Governor's Gambit - Star Wars SI into Imperial Governor

[Freefaller]

OFFICIAL SECTOR ADVISORY | MSD-R&D-DENIED-9914

DOCUMENT SUMMARY | Internal Review of Unfunded Research Proposals | Month #19
DISTRIBUTION | Office of the Moff, Myto Sector Economic Council
AUTHORIZATION | Ministry of Internal Development | Research and Development Division
AUTHOR | Director Yop Calio, Chief of Extraordinary Initiatives Research and Development
CLASSIFICATION | Restricted Technical Data

Project 1 Open-Cycle Hypermatter Scorcher

• Concept
  • This proposal outlines a high-speed atmospheric drone that runs on an open-cycle hypermatter reactor. By intentionally omitting the standard thermal containment shielding, the drone would vent raw, unchanneled solar-ionization plasma directly out of its sublight thrusters to instantly incinerate ground targets while flying at supersonic speeds.
• Reason for Denial
  • The proposal ignores basic strategic logic. Without total containment of the hypermatter reactor, the heat would melt the drone within seconds of activation.

Project 2 Sub-Crustal Tectonic Borer

Concept

• This initiative introduces a heavy boring vehicle utilizing high-output industrial repulsor-coils to project hyper-gravity downward, effectively crushing planetary rock into dust to tunnel underneath defensive energy shields. Once beneath an enemy command bunker, the vehicle would detonate a massive proton-torpedo payload.
• Reason for Denial
  • The design fails due to fundamental material constraints. The immense thermal energy generated by compressing planetary crust at tactical speeds would melt the internal repulsor-coils within minutes, welding the machine and its crew into a static block of slag kilometers beneath the surface.

Project 3 Orbital Hyperlane Interdiction Net

• Concept
  • This project involves deploying a dense orbital matrix consisting of thousands of high-tensile, automated tractor-beam minelets. The linked beams would form an invisible net across low orbit to snare and physically rip apart incoming enemy starfighters attempting to drop from hyperspace.
• Reason for Denial
  • The engineering division overlooked a glaring common-sense flaw. The inevitable tractor-beam resonance cascade would cause the net to snap outward, dragging local communication satellites and our own Imperial supply convoys into the meat grinder.

Project 4 Tectonic Rail-Cannon

• Concept
  • This concept details a massive planetary artillery installation that uses a sequence of decommissioned capital-ship hyperdrive rings to accelerate durasteel-jacketed kinetic slugs through a micro-hyperspace window. This weapon would allow the Minda system to strike stationary targets on worlds in neighboring systems.
• Reason for Denial
  • The proposal was rejected due to structural engineering realities. The immense kinetic recoil generated by forcing a multi-ton physical object through a localized hyperspace field inside a gravity well would instantly fracture the host planet's tectonic plate and cause a localized cataclysm.
• Directors Note The researchers who proposed this seemed to specify the weapons capabilities for striking other Imperial worlds from Minda. They have been flagged for psychological review.

Project 5 Unshielded Coaxium Boosters

• Concept
  • This design involves mounting volatile, unshielded raw coaxium liquid booster pods directly onto the exterior wing-joints of standard TIE interceptors. This modification would theoretically double their sublight acceleration and allow tactical wings to intercept enemy bombers before they can deploy payloads.
• Reason for Denial
  • Safety parameters make this concept entirely unviable. Liquid coaxium is notoriously sensitive to kinetic shock, meaning a single stray blaster bolt hitting a hangar bay or a landing rack would trigger a chain reaction capable of vaporizing an entire orbital station.
• Directors Note Honestly don't know what they were thinking, given coaxium is primarily used for hyperdrives.

Project 6 V-19 Void-Stalker Deep-Atmosphere Penetrator

• Concept
  • This high-altitude stealth bomber design is engineered to drop heavy proton payloads from the extreme upper layers of a planet's atmosphere. It utilizes a radical thermal-diffusing hull skin designed to compress atmospheric friction heat and convert it directly into forward deflector shield power during high-speed insertion maneuvers.
• Reason for Denial
  • The concept fails under basic aerodynamic and material constraints. The thermal-conversion matrix relies on a perfectly smooth, uninterrupted laminar airflow. The moment the bomber encounters standard atmospheric turbulence or alters its banking angle, the compressed heat vents inward instead of outward, instantly vaporizing the internal payload bay and the crew cabin.
• Directors Note The ship design has promise outside of its special hull, and is being reviewed for possible redesign and deployment pending Naval approval.

Project 7 AT V1 Specter Low Observability Walker

• Concept
  • This heavy armored walker utilizes experimental under-chassis repulsor dampeners to mask the seismic footprint of its footsteps. The hull features specialized cold-plasma plating designed to absorb all outward thermal signatures, allowing a heavy assault vehicle to sneak past enemy scout networks entirely undetected.
• Reason for Denial
  • The cold-plasma plating completely traps all internal heat generated by the walker's massive power core. Without active cooling vents, the internal cockpit temperature spikes to lethal levels within three minutes of activation, effectively cooking the pilot crew alive.
• Directors Note Some of the walker design team got their hands on one of the new AT-SW's and went a little wild.

Project 8 Spinal Fracture Siege Corvette

• Concept
  • This light capital ship is built entirely around a single massive forward-facing plasma lance cannon running the entire length of the vessel. The design strips away all traditional shield generators and point-defense turrets to funnel the entire output of the main hypermatter reactor into a single armor-penetrating blast.
• Reason for Denial
  • The ship's internal structural framework cannot handle the immense kinetic and thermal feedback of the primary weapon. Firing the cannon generates a violent energy cascade that would instantly collapse the hull forward onto itself, turning the entire corvette into a mass of crushed scrap metal.

Project 9 XR-9 Shatterpoint Sonic Siege Tank

• Concept
  • This tracked heavy armor vehicle mounts a localized seismic resonance emitter designed to neutralize fortified planetary energy shields. The tank would park directly outside an enemy outpost and tune its acoustic frequency to match the shield's thermal modulation, shattering the projector array from a safe distance without a prolonged orbital bombardment.
• Reason for Denial
  • The proposal defies common sense engineering realities. To project a sound wave dense enough to fracture a military-grade deflector shield through open air, the acoustic amplifier requires a power load that completely liquefies the ground directly beneath its own heavy treads, causing the tank to sink and swallow itself in solid rock before completing a single broadcast cycle.
• Directors Note Someone got their hands on some vintage Geonosian sonic weapons and someone else saw them and went into a fugue state for a week.

Project 10 Leech-Pattern Vector Boarding Pod

• Concept
  • This specialized armored boarding vessel is designed to bypass enemy point-defense grids by hitching a ride on our own capital ship salvos. The pod attaches to the exterior hull of an Imperial cruiser and crawls directly into a heavy turbolaser barrel, utilizing the weapon's native magnetic containment fields to launch itself forward at extreme velocity alongside the plasma blast.
• Reason for Denial
  • Severe structural and safety constraints make this concept completely unviable. The raw thermal energy of a heavy turbolaser discharge completely overwhelms the pod's heat shielding. Computer modeling shows the vessel instantly melts into a solid lump of slag inside the barrel, permanently welding the Star Destroyer's primary turret shut and destroying the boarding team before they can clear the ship's framework.
• Directors Note I don't know what to say, it's a miracle of stupidity that this escaped the confines of someone's mind.

Report Summary

While the preceding log highlights an undeniable pattern of structural overreach and logistical absurdity, it remains an essential diagnostic of our sector's primary design apparatus. The engineering divisions stationed across the Minda system represent the absolute pinnacle of Imperial technical innovation. However, this level of creative genius inherently carries a unique administrative burden.

The very traits that allow these minds to solve seemingly insurmountable structural challenges also render them highly prone to dramatic flights of fancy and erratic conceptual designs. They are an exceptionally brilliant group of innovators who require constant oversight to prevent them from accidentally fracturing a planetary crust or vaporizing a hangar bay in the pursuit of a breakthrough. It is the official stance of this office that vetting these highly eccentric proposals is a small price to pay for maintaining our regional technological superiority. We will continue to filter out the impossible and the dangerous while harvesting the genuine breakthroughs that keep the Myto Sector at the absolute forefront of military development.

Directors Note This is the shortest of the 19 reports of this kind I've had to write. I also suspect the next few will be quite short as well, given major projects have been recently greenlit. However, it is in my professional opinion that this office requires more advanced facilities. While a great deal has been accomplished using outdated and subpar equipment, it won't be enough going forward.

 

[Freefaller]

OFFICIAL SECTOR ADVISORY | MSD-R&D-ACTIVE-0412

DOCUMENT SUMMARY | Active R&D Project Status and Priority Briefing
DISTRIBUTION | Office of the Moff | Myto Sector Economic Council
AUTHORIZATION | Ministry of Internal Development | Research and Development Division
AUTHOR | Director Yop Calio, Chief of Extraordinary Initiatives
CLASSIFICATION | Restricted Strategic Technical Data

SECTION I REPORT OVERVIEW

The following dossier outlines the primary active engineering initiatives currently under development by the Minda system research division. In contrast to our conceptual exploratory logs, the projects detailed below have received full administrative authorization and funding. These initiatives are ranked strictly by their projected completion timeline, moving from immediate manufacturing readiness to long term structural design phases.

SECTION II ACTIVE PROJECT PIPELINE


Project IRONCLAD

• Current Status High Priority Production Transition
• Estimated Completion One to two months
• Project Overview
  • This initiative delivers the newest generation of the LECA combat platform by synthesizing extensive operational data gathered in the field over the last few years. The development team integrated fresh engineering personnel alongside technical innovations originally discovered by independent contractors working on civilian iterations of the core technology.
  • While the core design philosophy remains strictly unchanged, focusing on an efficient, modular, and cost effective asset, this update comprehensively addresses original engineering flaws. It successfully expands operational tolerances and rectifies numerous chassis stability problems that occurred as a direct consequence of the rushed nature of the platform's initial development cycle.
  • Alongside the optimization of the baseline chassis, the engineering team is concurrently working to create entirely new LECA variants. These specialized configurations are being developed directly alongside the main project to serve as the very first operational models of this new generation, significantly expanding the platform's tactical roles.

Project SWARMLORD

• Current Status Secondary Development Phase
• Estimated Completion Two to four months
• Project Overview
  • This project focuses on adapting the versatile ID10 seeker droid framework originally manufactured by Arakyd Industries and utilized by Imperial special forces units. Development initiated immediately following prolonged delays regarding the acquisition of corporate licensing rights from the parent manufacturer.
  • The objective centers on using the ID10 chassis as a standard baseline for a diverse suite of specialized companion droids tailored for soldiers, pilots, and field specialists. A preliminary variant is already fully operational as a dedicated spotter unit attached to the LECA A5 model. Upcoming variants currently in development aim to provide specialized flight assistance for ace pilots and real time tactical information integration for infantry squads.

Project GHOSTSHIP

• Current Status Mid Stage Optimization
• Estimated Completion Four to five months
• Project Overview
  • This long standing engineering initiative focuses on a comprehensive redesign and internal refit program for existing Star Destroyer class vessels. The primary objective is to drastically reduce the baseline crew complement required for standard deployment cycles.
  • Although the core goal is conceptually straightforward, execution has proven highly demanding due to the sheer scale and systemic complexity of a capital ship. The team is currently finalizing automated network subsystems to safely bridge legacy mechanical control interfaces without compromising ship security.

Project THUNDER

• Current Status Early Developmental Phase
• Estimated Completion Six to eight months to prototyping, one year to final production
• Project Overview
  • Inspired by recent advanced walker designs introduced by MynockArms, this project involves an entirely new and currently unnamed four legged mobile artillery asset. The weapon system is engineered to provide sustained indirect fire support across the theater of operations.
  • This unit aims to fill a critical tactical gap by avoiding the massive logistical footprint of an SPHA walker while bypassing the direct line of sight requirements that limit the AT AP platform. Because the project is in its infancy, current engineering efforts are focused on auditing preexisting Imperial supply lines to maximize components compatibility, which remains a core requirement for the success of all Mytoan military assets.

Project IMPERIAL REBIRTH

• Current Status Conceptual Architecture Phase
• Estimated Completion Minimum of one year to first prototype, final deployment timeline undetermined
• Project Overview
  • Following several years of persistent advocacy from the primary ship design team, the Ministry has officially greenlit this foundational naval architecture project. Unlike the parallel Star Destroyer refit initiative which focuses strictly on modifying existing hulls for manpower efficiency, Project Imperial Rebirth represents the ground up creation of an entirely new unnamed capital ship within the Star Destroyer size classification.
  • The design group is currently drafting core structural layouts and hypermatter reactor integration schematics to establish a completely modernized framework for next generation sector power projection.

Directors Note I'm not sure how they got permission for this one, but from what I can tell it was 'authorized' by the Moff in that he was busy muttering something about Akahista and said 'sure do whatever' when asked.

 

[Freefaller]

Chp-119

Admiral Gerel Dionhar
Akahista Orbit
3.1 ABY

Admiral Dionhar stared at the vessel through the shuttle viewport. The Vigil of Starless Night hung before him, the second ever Arbiter-Class vessel.

A cowards ship, meant only to stay behind the vessels of true warriors. Fitting that the Moff had chosen it as their meeting place.

Oh, he was aware that calling a Moff a coward would be career suicide. At least, for most Admirals. Dionhar wasn't under the command of the local Moff, after all, and reported instead to the Grand Moff directly.

A prestigious position, if only it didn't also leave him in the ass end of nowhere without a chance at glory or prestige in combat.

Upon the shuttles docking, he disembarked into the hangar. It was vast, holding countless TIE's of various types, many of those being the newfangled Mytoan variants he'd seen in the Akahistan's governors forces.

Above him claws held individual fighters along a rail system, while on the ground sat larger vessels.

Before him stood an aide who nervously guided him towards the meeting room.

The halls of the vessel were lively with personnel rushing to and fro. At the same time, those hallways disgusted him.

On one wall, there was a poster for a Walker-Ball match in the hanger! If this had been his ship, he would've personally executed anyone who dared to suggest such a blatant waste of time and effort!

It was clear to him how the Moff liked to run things, and it felt distinctly anti-imperial. Still, Dionhar held his tongue. This would all be in a report to the Grand Moff anyways, and if Kaine had any sense Mola would be demoted.

Soon he found himself inside the meeting room, a utilitarian place with not a decoration in sight, simply two chairs and a table, sitting across from the Moff himself. A large, lizard-like creature wound itself around his shoulders, eyes seeming to bore into his soul.

"Glad to meet you, Admiral Dionhar." Said the Moff, reaching a hand out to shake. He accepted, if only to keep up the veneer of politeness.

"The pleasure is mine, Moff Mola. Now, what brings you to my post? Its rare for my position to get visitors."

The Moff before him straightened in his chair, eyes tightening. He removed from his pocket a small disk, a holo projector, placing it on the table.

Upon activation, it showcased a map of the galaxy. Markings showcased fleet movements, policing actions, and more.

"Can you see the pattern, Admiral Dionhar?"

He stared at the map for a little while longer, trying as he might to find it. "No, I'm afraid not, Moff Mola. What is the meaning of this?"

"The pattern, Admiral, is the Crimson Dawn. In every known sighting in the past months, the Dawn has gotten away. In fact, overall sightings of Dawn ships have dropped dramatically. Almost as if they knew where Imperial ships were going to be."

In a flash, Dionhar was at his feet, hands slamming into the table. "Are you accusing me of treason!? How dare you! I was personally chosen by the Grand Moff himself!"

Mola stayed infuriatingly calm, his posture unchanging even as his eyes scanned the Admiral. The lizard let out a low, almost threatening rumble. Dionhar avoided looking at it.

"Calm yourself. I'm not making any accusations here. If I suspected you to be a traitor, we wouldn't be having a conversation in the first place."

Dionhar huffed, dropping back down into his chair. "So, what? Am I to believe that somehow spies have infiltrated the Hub? It's one of the most tightly secured facilities in the galaxy, of that I've made sure."

"And yet, like all facilities, it's connected to the holonet."

The Admiral frowned. "At best a slicer could listen in on encrypted comms, and we change the encryption every other week, as well as the techs making the codes, and the five teams of people adding more complexity to the encryption. Safe to say, the Dawn would need to compromise nearly a hundred people."

"Thats not what I mean, though it is something that should be checked. No, what I mean is, last year, someone took down the holonet relays. In the panic, ships were pulled from Akahista."

Dionhar leaned forward. "You mean to tell me that somehow, Crimson Dawn caused the relay blackout to infiltrate the Hub?"

"It seems the only explanation" was Mola's response, gesturing towards the projector. "The data lines up. And the Dawn is specialized in infiltration. If anyone could do it, it would be them."

Dionhar felt a thin bead of sweat start to form despite the room's chill. This was…bad. Very bad. He didn't quite believe it, but that didn't matter. What mattered is that it was believable enough, and as such if this information was revealed to his superiors…

Well, Naval HIGHCOM had a habit of scapegoating whenever possible. He'd be lucky to be demoted.

Before he could continue to deny the accusations, the Moff spoke.

"I come to you with this so that we may coordinate. By investigating this issue with the help of the Governor-General and ISB, we may yet find the spies."

"You want to bring the ISB in on this?" Dionhar was in shock. To purposefully bring in the ISB, or any of their superiors, was a death sentence!

"Of course. They will eventually, inevitably, discover the same information I have. Better we report it ourselves and work with them to fix this."

"It'll see us both demoted at best!"

Here the Moff seemed to grow angry, his voice rising just a tad. "Admiral. We are servants of the Emperor. If demotion is the punishment for our failure, then so be it. I will be sending the message in 24 hours. Full cooperation will be expected."

Dionhar studied the Moffs face. A patriot? A real Imperial patriot? Damnation, why did he have to get stuck in a room with the rarest species in the galaxy!?

"...I understand. For the Empire, Moff Mola."

"For the Empire."

They saluted one another, and Dionhar left the room at a quicker pace than he'd entered with. He had no time to waste, after all. And that lizard scared him.

It was imperative he get to the Hub, and change the outgoing logs! His master override should work, and so if he could just change the logs, erase evidence he changed them, he could buy himself time.

After all, the ISB would arrive, see completely normal looking logs, and then leave to focus on the Moff wasting their time! It would give him the time he needed to track down these spies, if they existed.

And if they didn't, the logs would be perfectly fine, and he'd be perfectly fine. But the sweat upon his brown betrayed the truth.

If there was even the slightest chance the Moff was right, he had to check!

–

Akahista, Pyramid One
3.1 ABY

Three shadows crept down the side of the building, silent limbs using magnets to avoid the treacherous fall.

They had inserted themselves in the dead of the planet's night cycle, and now poised themselves before the gaps between the pyramids layers. A small maintenance shaft stood there, and quickly they entered, sleek black ID-10 making quick work of the electronic lock.

No noise was made as they swiftly passed through the hall, their armor covered head to toe in noise and signal dampening material.

Through the maintenance section they went, arriving swiftly into the main cooling bay of the pyramid. Here liquid was pumped in and out of the supercomputer above, then moved to sites further away in the city to cool off before being cycled back in.

From their hidden location, the shadows once again dispatched their droids, the red glow of their eyes removed to maintain their stealth. The metal creatures found their way to the cameras in the room, setting them to loop footage one by one until the room was blind to the security forces.

Then, they made their way to the engineering consoles. The shadows above fired small darts into some farther off machinery, small electrical discharges causing a commotion and bringing the engineers away from their consoles.

With unrestricted access, the droids hacked their way in, one droid accessing the panel and the other two plugging into the first droid in order to combine their processing power.

In seconds, pumps started to stutter. Liquid was sent out in short bursts rather than a continuous stream. A common enough glitch in coolant systems galaxy wide that the only eyebrows raised would be those of engineers wondering how such an advanced location would allow such failures.

Of course, such concerns would never be raised. After all, failures were things to be hidden in the Empire.

The shadows left their hiding space in short order, slipping into an open hatch in the coolant pipes. The stuttering pumps meant they weren't swimming in coolant, yet the pipes were far below a survivable temperature regardless.

Each of them activated simple heating packs stitched into their armor and checked their environmental seals before moving onwards. They held onto their droids, using the machine's propulsion to speed up through the waist high coolant.

Within a single harrowing minute, they were able to exit the cooling pipe and enter the colossal supercomputer, the Hub itself. Machinery lay all around them, piling high up above with crisscrossing wires and perilous gantries abound.

Not a single guardrail either, though workplace safety wasn't an Imperial concern.

Again, their droids went first, finding each and every camera along their path. The shadows climbed silently, grappling hooks pulling them upwards with ease.

Finally, they found themselves at the central access computer. The heart and soul of the compound.

Expert hands installed the device easily enough, hidden eyes scanning for threats where there were none. The second team across the facility had done well in drawing attention away from the computers center.

Soon, the second illegal modification to the computer was installed. They could've removed the first, it was right there. But its discovery was key. So, for now, they did as ordered.

Their path out was much the same, and within the hour three shadows slunk back into the darkness of the surrounding city.

–

Yo. For some reason writing just hasn't been coming to me as easily. Maybe i'm just not as excited to write this story, maybe i just don't like writing as much as I used to, who knows. I'll finish this story, as I promised, but it'll take more time. Its gotten almost out of control, this one, growing far beyond my intended premise. Did you know that in the beginning, I had intended the story to stop at Endor, with Las as a Governor? He was never supposed to become Moff, but I liked the idea so much I had to throw it in. Same with so many other aspects. And now I have a dozen characters I can barely remember and a rough draft of a plan for post-endor so rough it could be used as sandpaper.\

But, I said I'd finish the story, so I will. Planning will be refined and the chapters will be continuing. I expect that once this more stressful chapter of my life has passed this will come easier to me.

As for the cooking update, I actually did a few new things. Tried a new chocolate cake recipe, it was aight, honestly very moist even after a couple days but kinda bland. Great with ice cream tho. Also made some cucumber and zucchini bread, the former because I bought cucumbers by accident. Didn't like it, zucchini bread is better for sure.

Gonna go for braided danishes next, because normal danishes i buy from Costco piss me off. Too much of the cheese is left in the center in an island and you either toss it and waste food or eat it and get too much cheese taste which is gross.

-Freefaller

 

[Freefaller]

Chp-120

Admiral Gerel Dionhar
Akahista Orbit
3.1 ABY

Two days after meeting the Moff, Dionhar found himself back aboard the Vigil, and once again within a meeting room.

The smaller room he'd been in previously had been replaced with a near-standard Imperial meeting room. Near standard because instead of being a stark grey box, it was circular, holding warm lighting and comfortable seats.

He might've brushed it off as the Moffs personal meeting room but given how he passed three other rooms of the same kind on the way in it was clear these were standard on Arbiters. Another flagrantly anti-imperial modification that would encourage laziness among sailors.

Still, he put those thoughts in his mind. After all, he was supposed to be feeling great! After all, he successfully covered his tracks. Once things blew over he could quietly find and deal with the Crimson Dawn spies and be rid of this debacle. Or perhaps extract a concession or two from the Dawn, if possible.

All he had to do was wait for the Grand Moffs representative to arrive. The report he sent to his superior clearly indicated the Moff in the whole debacle, so he should be fine.

Of course, the reality was that he wasn't feeling great, mostly because of the "fool I see before me who dares to question the integrity of my character!?"

The ISB agent before him, one Lieutenant Bree, scoffed. "It is hardly an insult to speak facts. You failed to ensure the security of the facility you were assigned to guard."

Before he could respond, Bree turned to the Moff. "And I am quite surprised that you also allowed this failure to occur, Moff Mola. You've been nothing but an exemplary servant of the Emperor until now."

"My sincerest apologies, Lieutenant. The blackout was a sudden event that created an immediate and massive crisis. The Governor-General has been focused heavily on mid-rim trade route protection, rightfully so, however this means the sector's forces were simply not in large enough supply to both deal with the piracy spike and keep a stricter eye on the relay network."

Bree's eyes narrowed, then flickered over to the man sitting next to him, a representative of the Governor-General who was also attending the meeting on account of the report the Moff sent both offices.

"Don't look at me! The Governor-General has been acting in his official capacity to protect the sectors under his command."

"Which has put other sectors under his command at risk. This is unacceptable."

"Oh please!" exclaimed the representative. "You're just a Lieutenant, ISB or not. Speaking poorly of your betters reflects badly upon you. Not to mention, this whole debacle would never have happened if the ISB did their jobs properly!"

Now Bree looked angry. "The ISB is infinitely more competent than you and yours. The fact is, if the Admiral here had any skill, and if the Governor-General had any real ability-!"

His PDA rang, a report. He paused his rant, glaring at the representative before going to check it.

"Ah, it seems the Hubs logs have been acquired. Now lets see here…"

Before further action could be taken, the doors slid open to reveal a new figure. An Admiral, uniform fit and clean. Face mired in anger.

"I am here on behalf of the Grand Moff himself, and I DEMAND an explanation!"

From there, things devolved. Dionhar would've liked to say that he was above it all, and sat back to watch the show, but to his shame he got viscerally involved. By the end, his face was red from shouting and everyone was standing up.

Everyone, save for the Moff, who had remained seated, calm, and collected. Even his pet lizard, seemingly glued to his shoulders, was perfectly calm. He only spoke when asked a question. Each time, deflecting blame subtly to a different faction.

Dionhar's eyes widened. He was playing them against one another! But just as he went to speak–!

Khhohhhhhh… Pwhhhhhrrr…

The hair on the back of his neck rose as the temperature seemed to plummet. Dionhars heart began to beat quicker, sweat breaking out on his brow.

Behind him, he heard it once more.

Khhohhhhhh… Pwhhhhhrrr…

That sound. He'd heard it only once, years ago on Coruscant. Yet, despite how much time had passed, the fear was no less real.

Khhohhhhhh… Pwhhhhhrrr…

Not a single one of them spoke, all of them standing frozen as the pressure subtly shifted higher, air suddenly a little thinner.

Then, a voice. The Moffs.

"Lord Vader, it is a pleasure to meet you. Would you like a seat?"

Dionhar's eyes darted to the side. The Moff was now standing, his face noticeably more brittle. A part of him wanted to laugh at the man and how his perfect facade was now on the verge of breaking, but he couldn't help but understand.

A behemoth stood before them, staring at the Moff and his lizard-thing. The stare lasted a little longer than was polite.

"...No."

The titan of gleaming metal looking slowly across the room, a predator gazing at the prey before it.

"I am here on the Emperor's orders to correct a disturbance in a critical part of our security."

Vader loomed now, bearing a pressure upon all their shoulders as though the vast ocean weighed down on them.

Explain. Now."

Dionhar wanted to speak. To grovel at the monster's feet and explain everything, if only to shirk the blame and escape this horrid beast alive. But his throat was closed with fear.

"L-lord Vader! I have the Hubs internal logs here! With them, we should be able to ascertain the culprit!" Bree was trying, and failing, to show any fear.

A single nod was the only response, and Bree quickly dove into his PDA, reading through the report.

"It…it seems that many of the logs from the period of the blackout, when the suspected Crimson Dawn infiltrators entered the Hub, have been tampered with extensively! But, the access logs are intact, and indicate that…"

Bree looked up from his PDA, staring directly at Dionhar. "...that the bases Master Access Key was used. Of which, only the Admiral here would've had nearby."

There were no words to describe Dionhar's emotional state. Fear, one supposes, could be the closest thing, but it was deeper than that.

Dread.

He was certain he'd covered all his tracks, erased all evidence of his wrongdoings! He'd triple checked the access logs alone!

His eyes darted across the room, throat still too dry and speak, when he glimpsed the Moff, off to the side of Vader.

For a fraction of a second, the tiniest hint of a smile graced the Moffs features. Dionhar's eyes widened.

"You–!"

–

Las
3.1 ABY
Akahista Orbit
Vigil of Starless Night
Meeting Room #3

Admiral Dionhar's corpse crumpled to the ground. Eyes still open, if facing opposite of where his head should've been pointing.

A part of me wanted to giggle at the corpse, if only because the outrage on his face combined with the way he crumpled was kind of silly.

Of course, I didn't giggle. Partially because I'm not a monster, partially because its just plain rude, but mostly because–

DARTH FUCKING VADER

–was in my ship, in front of me, breathing heavily.


"I trust you can clean up the rest?"

"Of course, Lord Vader! My agents are scouring the Hub as we speak for Crimson Dawn infiltrators. We already extracted their listening device."

As much as I didn't like interacting with the family of the old Las, Zyx certainly came in clutch. Infiltrating the Hub, planting the device, getting out, then doing it all over again just to get rid of our own device and leaving the Dawns there.

"Good."

Vader then abruptly turned and made to leave. He was blunt like that, but then again I imagine he was annoyed at being here and not trying to enslave the galaxy.

Sure, he has some more nuance than that, but I wasn't feeling particularly generous given the circumstances.

Before he left, he stopped. I swear I could hear everyone's hearts stop beating. His head turned towards me.

"This ship. I have never seen its like. I would have its type added to Death Squadron."

For a second I blinked in confusion. Darth Vader wanted and Arbiter? I thought the Imperial motif was 'make it REAL BIG then hope it works'.

Ah! I'd forgotten! He's a mechanic, right? Must like that sort of thing, but can't ask like a normal person because of Sith stuff. Makes sense, of course.

"Of course, Lord Vader. The Arbiter-class is a local invention based off of the Victory-Class hull, but focused on carrier operations. We can most certainly reserve the next hulls coming out of the yards for you."

"No. I will take your most experienced ships immediately."

Fuck. "Understood, Lord Vader. I'll have the Sector Admiral pick the ships with the most experienced crews for you." Goddamnit.

Ife was going to be so pissed. We just got our best crews to a decent level of experience and now this asthmatic was going to grab them?

"How many other 'local variants' have you produced?"

Of fuck off! He wants more!? At this point I was more angry than scared, but still more than scared enough to answer instead of telling him to go fuck himself, given he can't fuck his wife.

"Well, the Myto sector produces a variety of vessels and units locally. I can have a document sent to you if you so wish."

He just stared at me, again. I knew Mugwuffin was protecting me, or at least making my emotions a tad muffled, as though I had great internal control.

I don't. This guy is just kinda annoying. Terrifying, given he can kill me, but annoying.

"...Do so. I will requisition what I require."

"Of course, Lord Vader."

Khhohhhhhh… Pwhhhhhrrr…

The breathing was cool at first, but now he just kinda sounded like some sort of chud breathing heavily onto some porn or something. Get some cardio old man.

And with that, he actually left. Some might have described him as a wall of shadow streaking from the room. I'd call him a socially awkward widower waddling away after getting all the toys he wanted.

But with that, it was, miraculously, over.

Sure, there was some complications. Vader wanted to take one of the Whirlwinds in the hangar for a spin, and beat everyone's records.

Specifically, he flew at 191 of the maximum maneuver rating. Meaning Seventh Brother was no longer the reigning champ, and Vader now had the power to drift a starfighter in space.

A part of me feared for the future of the rebellion, for I was relying on their victory at Endor to escape.

A part of me just though the idea of Darth Vader drifting a TIE fighter in space to be really fucking cool.

–

Yo. Was gonna have Las be way more scared, then remembered this is a comedy not a drama so I changed it up.

Also watched that Vader: Episode II that came out and got all hyped. While the video itself is mostly just an alright popcorn watch, hype moments and aura are a good time in general. I think the creator is controversial? But I don't really know or care, it was as 7/10, hope they make more.

I did channel the vibe they gave Vader there a bit here, a menace, a presence, a wall. I leaned more on the shadows and stuff and the idea that in a confined space he would loom over others, this almost animalistic yet controlled thing, not quite a man anymore. Which made it all the more fun to have Las call him a chud.

Tired. The more political/economic stuff will be in the next chapter.

-Freefaller

 

[Freefaller]

Las
3.1 ABY
3 Days Later
Minda System

I watched out the window of the MARD as the last Acclamator-Class ship jumped to hyperspace.

It wasn't a standard Acclamator. Its internal bays had been reconfigured to house administrative staff and facilities. Extensive crew facilities, server bays, communication systems and more.

It was in effect a mobile space station. A mobile hub of coordination.

Not for me, no. I'm perfectly fine where I am now. No, this was for a project I'd been working on for a while.

See, running a sector was hard work. There were already a million things I had to manage at all times. And with my time increasingly taken by larger scale projects and out-of-sector diplomacy, I couldn't keep splitting my attention.

So, subsector hubs. Each ship would host hundreds of administrators, tax experts, and more. Their job would be to settle disputes between Governors, collect taxes, administer the tax code, and coordinate infrastructure projects.

That last part was especially important. Just creating a sector wide project wasn't enough. One had to properly implement it across all subsectors. Having these sub-capitals would help immensely.

"The fleet is already stretched thin. Are you sure of this?"

Ife was at my side for the event.

"No, but I'm running out of options. The sector is growing too quickly. If pressure isn't relieved, it'll create a myriad of problems."

And wasn't that the truth. Sure, the sector growing quickly was incredibly news. More immigrants streamed in from across the galaxy by the day. As the Empire got harsher and the civil war got hotter, people sought refuge.

If they couldn't afford the Core or safer parts of the Mid-Rim, then the Myto Sector was one of the few places in the outer rim considered nice to live in.

This came with problems.

Colonies were expanding far ahead of schedule. Cities were filling as soon as we could build them. I've started approving the purchase of pre-built space stations because there just aren't enough homes or infrastructure in many of the newly built, quickly growing colonies.'

And this was all without mentioning the larger projects. There were multiple concurrent programs in place to increase things like quality of life, medical production, industrial capacity, transit capacity, and more.

None of this was easy to manage, and while I could continue to expand my own capital administrative staff, that created far too much of a centralized location of power. It created bloat. If everything has to run through one single place all the time, that place gets slow.

And if things got slow, things started to go wrong. And that sort of stagnation compounded until it was impossible to fix.

As for why they were mobile? Well, the Governors were on average a lot cleaner now. But I still didn't trust most of them. After all, most of them were just cleaning up their acts, instead of being people I trusted from the start. If I made one system the capital of each subsector, that system would undoubtedly gain unparalleled power and prestige they could use as political weight.

"They won't be as well protected as planned. If they get targetted…" Ife's concern was real. The Acclamator-class was no slouch in combat, but it wasn't built to brawl either. Its primary escorts were mostly frigates and light cruisers, such as the Raider or Nebulon-B. Solid ships, but for such important vessels it wasn't enough.

"I know. But as things are, I can't avoid having them. For now, they'll stick near better defended systems, and only move when extra forces can be spared by system defense fleets to escort them. However, I can't delay this project. Already as the sector expands and projects become larger, we're seeing failures, delays, and compounding errors. If this continues to get worse, we could start seeing major problems."

Like smuggling, which was already finding a new niche to fill. Immigration was booming, yes, but it was easier get in if one had prior work experience in a field we were looking to expand. Medicine, for example, was at the top of our list.

But not everyone has such experience, and doesn't want to, or can't wait. So, they pay smugglers, and get smuggled in.

Sure, I could tamp down on immigration to slow things down. But that would only create a larger smuggling market. Right now, I had a fair grip on the underworld, reigning in the reasonable and eradicating those who wouldn't play ball. But if enough people got desperate to get in, smuggling would explode and a hundred new rings would pop up.

And that would create a million new problems.

"Coaxium profits have left up solidly in the green. I can release more into the naval budget for mercenary contracts and ship purchases." I replied. The Mando's weren't great at escort work, but there were countless more in the sector who did great at it.

Ife scoffed. "Trying to buy a warship right now would be near impossible. HIGHCOM is throwing everything they have at the Rebels, even if they don't want to say it." Her eyes slid from the window to my own. "Speaking of HIGHCOM, have they sent word about the Hubs replacement Admiral?
I sighed, rubbing at my temples in frustration. "All the people they'd trust with the assignment are out on other duties. And given Dionhar's treachery, that list is quite small and not budging any time soon. In the meanwhile, I've been given commanding authority over it."

"I see…" Her reply was quiet, and as I looked over at her, she seemed almost…anxious? What the hell? This wasn't the career climbing Admiral I knew?

"...Sir, I just wanted to ask–I know it's inappropriate given the chain of command and everything–"

No shot. No fucking shot. Did Ife Veers have a crush on me? This couldn't be happening. I meant that literally, this could not be happening! She was too good at her job, too vital to the sector! But still, I can't say yes, that would make things worse. Fuck, I've got to somehow reject her and get her to stick around!

"–but I just wantedtoaskifitsalrighttodateyoursister!?"

"Absolutely n–" I pause for a second. "Wait, waitwaitwait, what do you mean date my sister? Which one?"

She couldn't seem to meet my eyes, which was extraordinarily strange for her of all people. Her cheeks were a shade of red I wasn't sure was possible, much less healthy.

"S-Shal, Sir. I know she's a subordinate but she isn't under my command, and there's just this spark of sorts and it's not anything yet but I just wanted to check–"

I raise my hand, and her mouth clacks shut at an impressive speed to stop the flood of words. I sigh. "Look. You're not in the same chain of command. So long as you keep it private, stay effective, and avoid any scandals, I don't care."

Maybe it'll get Shal to stop pestering me to go out on a family rendezvous or whatever.

–

Clifcor Gabrsta
3.1 ABY
Kuat System

Clifcor sighed in relief as he sat down on the bench, the heavy zero-G suit hissing as the seals opened and he tasted the Rings air.

Still recycled, like the suits, but less so. To him, it might've well been a fresh summer day breeze.

From a storage compartment below the bench he retrieved his lunch. A nutri-pack and energy drink. He could afford more, sure, but his break was shorter now than it used to be. He didn't have the time to eat anything more.

The Ring had been working overtime for a while now. Ships were being built on tighter schedules, workers pushed harder for the same or even lesser pay.

"Hey there. How done are ya?" To his side, he saw another worker, Sernat he remembered, sitting down.

His eyes found their way to the window, beyond which sat the hulking form of a half-built star destroyer.

"About halfway. Parts shipment got delayed again."

Sernat sighed in frustration. "Same. Just got started on this Bellator when we had to stop because they only sent us half the wiring! What a mess…"

Clifcor nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's bad out there. I hear the rebels are hitting supply convoys all the time. It's why all these ships are being rushed out. For patrol duty."

"See, that's what doesn't make sense" exclaimed Sernat, waving his nutribar like a lecture stick. "If they wanted patrol ships, they'd build patrol ships. We could've pumped out three whole Raiders in the time it took us to put the Bellators frame together!"

"Well, you know how the military is," Clifcor shrugged. "They want big ships with lots of guns. Hell, just last week the future captain of the ISD we're building came by to demand we add extra guns!"

"Yeah, a total kriffing disaster. Didya hear their even pulling ships from the system defense fleet? Apparently some rebels hit Mardona and Najan-Rovi, and there aren't enough ships anywhere else."

Clifcor scoffed. "And we end up paying for it. Bet they'll toss another hundred orders of ships, tell us to make em by tomorrow, and be mad when they take months."

"Like they always do."

He nodded. "Like they always do."

–

Yo.Tired. Take this and enjoy. I will defend my literary choices when I am of sound mind once more.

–Freefaller

 

[Freefaller]

Maximillian Veers
Hoth
3.4 ABY
The snowy planet stretched before him as the General held firmly to the handrail above him, his AT-AT stomping through the howling blizzard. As it did, he considered his situation.

The assault had started off poorly already. He wasn't privy to every detail, but suffice it to say the Admiral who had made the sort of mistake Lord Vader wasn't keen on forgiving. Death Squadron had suffered for it. The rebels knew they were coming ahead of time. Multiple cruisers had been shot down as the rebels' surprisingly heavy anti-orbital weapons caught them off guard, forcing an expedited combat landing.

Which was a simply kind way of saying they would have to drop all their ground troops while under fire from heavy orbital weaponry.

He didn't complain. No one ever did. You don't complain to Darth Vader. You nod, and then you figure out how to fulfill his orders without dying miserably. It was something Veers considered himself to have become adapted to, because when you did something to survive for years on end, it became second nature. Or you became a corpse.

"General." A voice crackled through the comm unit. It was one of the scouts. "Rebel fighters inbound. The blizzard makes them unidentifiable, but there's at least a squadron."

"Understood." He replied, staring back out the viewport. "All units, prepare for contact. Maneuver for covering fire."

He had fought fighters using his AT-ATs before. It wasn't easy. The AT-AT was a weapon of ground warfare, a towering behemoth meant to crush the enemy beneath its metal feet and impressive armament. It was not meant to fire at starfighters. Their best bet was to stay grouped together to create overlapping fields of fire, and scare off the enemy fighters until friendly fighters could pick them off.

Through the sensor net, he saw just that. Those new TIE fighters Lord Vader had taken from his daughter's naval stocks ripped through the air, shooting forward into the fray.

He couldn't see what was happening, and his sensors told him only that things were happening. Veers didn't know if the TIEs would win, however, and so he maintained his order to be prepared.

The Navy had a habit of failing the Army whenever it was convenient for them, and while Vader wasn't keen on such dysfunctionality within Death Squadron, he also couldn't squash every little thing.

Yet, at the same time, a part of him wanted to trust in his daughter. She'd been the one to use these TIE's constantly, and to great effect if what the reports said were true. But that was a small part of him, the one proud of her achievements and rank, the one kept locked up.

The rest of him was disappointed she didn't join the army, angry she'd run from their family, and more complex things he wasn't in a position to properly process. He knew that he never quite was in that position. Maybe he never wanted to be.

"General!" The scout again, panic clear in his voice. "Rebel fighters split from the fight! They're inbound, signatures say they're bigger than X-Wings!"

Veers cursed under his breath even as his AT-AT's maneuvered closer together. If only he'd been allowed AA platforms on this mission. Unfortunately, rebel orbital coverage meant only a select number of transports could make it onto the planet, and Lord Vader had demanded heavy armor over all else.

He couldn't even curse the man in his mind, as much as he wanted to. Vader had an uncanny ability to know when one was thinking poorly of him, and calling him a myriad of names for interfering in Veers's operation was a bad idea, even within his own mind.

Once the fighter's signatures blipped onto the display, he gave the order.

"Fire! Spread your shots, lower energy, higher rate of fire! Fill the sky!"

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't even good. Calling it a serviceable tactic would be generous. But it was all he had at the moment.

As expected, it barely worked. A few fighters split off, scared from the massed fire. But one didn't, dodging and weaving as it pierced the snowy veil and made itself clearly seen.

As he got a proper look at it, Veers's mind vaguely recalled seeing it somewhere. A half-remembered report about some blockade in the Jubilar sector. How could a blockade runner be used here?

Then, the wings unfolded, uneven shape taking form, and Veers remembered what the thing was called. A B-Wing.

Maximilian Veers saw green, and thought of his family.

Maximilian Veers saw nothing, and thought of nothing.

–

Las
3.4 ABY
The past few months had been hectic.

Suffice it to say, the Empire didn't like talking about it. But for the first time in a long time, they weren't as certain.

Publicly, the Battle of Hoth had been a resounding success. Rebel forces routed, their base destroyed, thousands dead. It seemed a perfect victory.

But the numbers told a different story. An empire that had just won such a grand victory does not immediately triple down on war material demands. An empire that has just eradicated a major base of its enemy does not demand triple the production from its sectors in such short timeframes.

Sure, the Empire has made unreasonable demands before. But this was beyond the pale.

I didn't know exactly what happened at Hoth. All I knew was that the Empire wanted me to extract three times the amount of resources, ships, labor, and more from my sector.

I distinctly didn't want to do that.

"Sir, while I understand that the Empire requires more fuel, and I am happy to provide it, as it stands, our coaxium facilities simply aren't advanced enough yet. It will be at least another few months before we reach even half of what is being asked. And that's if we cut every safety regulation in the book, which would undoubtedly lead to workplace accidents that would drain the facilities of experienced personnel and cause further delays and costs."

"I sympathize with your problems. I really do." The Governor-General's holographic visage twisted in that way that told me he was playing a part. I don't think I'd ever met the man when he wasn't playing a part, so I'd come to understand his false moods. "But the quota must be met. Perhaps you could put prisoners to work. It's quite popular amongst other Moffs within the Oversector. I know you have your own system of doing things, and it's clearly worked out quite well for you. But if it can't adapt to this…well, my friend, I'm not sure what else I can tell you."

You could shut up and stop being such a prick, is what I wanted to say. But I didn't, because he was my superior and could order me killed.

"I understand. But I've run the numbers. Even if I were to begin using prisoner labor immediately, it would still take nearly six months to build facilities up to what you want. It would be cheaper, in fact, to augment other facilities. More ship-building capacity is available in my sector now more than ever."

The Governor-General gave an almost theatrical sigh. If this was the quality of acting he'd been using with all his fancy friends in the Mid-Rim, then they must either be very foolish to fall for it, or they humored him. I imagined it was a mixture of both, given what I knew about rich people.

"And yet it is not ships the Empire is asking for. At least not from you–I mean us."

Nice save there, dipshit.

"The Empire has more ships being built across the galaxy than ever before. Our Oversector has been producing more than ever. From you it demands only fuel and weapons. And you, my friend, have one of the only coaxium deposits in the Oversector. However you do it, know that it is expected of you to find ways of improving your output. If you yourself cannot find a method of doing so, I will find someone who can."

The call ended not long after, and I sat in the silence of my office.

Not even Mugwuffin was there, as she normally was. She was off hunting mouse droids again, or trying to coerce stormtroopers around the facility into giving her snacks.

I was stuck with this conundrum. As it stood, there simply wasn't enough crime in the sector to allow for the increase in prisoners that would be required to increase production. Not to mention, I hadn't lied when I said I wouldn't trust prisoners with such a valuable resource. A particularly savvy pirate group might strategically plant moles within the workforce to organize convoy robberies.

There was also the morale problem. I didn't want rebels. Rebels had proven time and again that they were very capable at killing people, and I didn't particularly want to be killed. I wanted to live a long, peaceful life, which was not possible if I became the kind of target worth striking. So I had to keep people happy, because a sector full of happy people is a sector in which the rebels have a very hard time gaining recruits, access, and support.

If I knew one thing about the rebels, it was that no matter their recent victories, they were an inherently logical organization. They would not attempt to foment rebellion in a sector where they were not confident of gaining popular support. So long as I kept people happy and treated them well, I got to live.

And now my direct superior was telling me to imprison as many people as possible in order to expand production.

I couldn't tell him no. Not outright, not truly, because that wasn't very Imperial of me. And while I was certain he wouldn't move against me immediately, if I proved unfriendly to his wishes, I had no doubt he would eventually use his position to get rid of me and install someone more agreeable. Which would very likely end with me in either prison or dead.

I quite liked being alive.

So I had to toe the line, which meant I had to find a way to increase production without increasing the amount of forced labor. A difficult prospect, all things considered. Not impossible, but expensive.

The only question was what I would be willing or able to give up in order to succeed.

I couldn't pull money from the military. Lord Vader had taken nearly a dozen Arbiters and twice that in the new Dreadnought-class, not to mention two whole wings of starfighters. Thankfully, the only thing he hadn't grabbed was land-based attack craft, which would've made things significantly worse. But as it stood, it would take time and money to bring the sector's naval forces back up to strength. With trade being the absolute lifeblood of the sector's economy, I couldn't afford to let up on trade security.

So I'd have to find the money elsewhere. And money took time to move. I couldn't will it out of thin air. Not to mention it took time for factories, mining settlements, and refineries to be built. And clearly the Empire wasn't in the mood to entertain ideas of logistical reality.

Somehow, I had to find the money and magic up the resources to more than triple current production. As fast as possible.

–

Yo. Wanted to do a Jir section but shit man its getting hard to write her, gonna have to give it more time in the oven.

Other than that, I'm fairly proud of this section even if it isn't my best work. I didn't go into too much detail regarding Hoth since given its entire thing is to showcase how much better prepared the Rebels are, it only needs to showcase the set up and Veers's death. I could've gone into more detail for a variety of things, but didn't want to bloat the chapter.

As for Las's section, its that classic exposition. I figured I'd end it without him having a solution, because I feel like a lot of these problems end up having a solution within the same chapter and then the next few are just about how that solution is implemented, and I don't really want that for this. Gonna make Las sweat for something, the lazy bastard.

Didn't bake anything super recently, haven't had the time, transferring colleges is really stressful on account of my chronic procrastination. But I did make some chicken and waffles.

Admittedly the waffles were eggos frozen waffles and the chicken was some thighs I tossed in some premade spice combos and tossed in a pan until they were alright. But shit, now I get it. Chicken and waffles fucking slaps.

-Freefaller

 

[Freefaller]

Chp-123

Ril Baagoss
Hoth
3.4 ABY

The thrum of his X-Wings engines did little to calm Ril's nerves. Even as he was surrounded by his squadron, even as the sound of the anit-orbital cannons rang through the tundra, even as he knew that the evacuation was proceeding on time, his hands still shook.

Not much. Just a little. Certainly a noticeable improvement from when he'd started some 5 odd years ago.

Out in the white of the blizzard, he saw little. Only his sensors and the pre-mission briefing told him what was near.

Behind him, B-Wings. A new model of ship, some of the first to be made apparently. He'd heard the techs complaining about maintenance all month, so clearly they weren't exactly fit for mass production.

Not that the Alliance could mass-produce much of anything.

Ahead of him was the enemy force. AT-AT's were the main target, hulking war machines with more armor and firepower than any land-based vehicles they had on hand. That's what the B-Wings were for.

His job was to keep the TIE's off the B-Wings. Easy. He'd blown up dozens of TIE's. They were practically made of flimsy.

The thought didn't stop his hands from shaking.

"Enemy TIE fighters inbound. Shell-Squadron, keep them off our bombers!"

But just the same, shaking hands or not, he had a job to do. Pushing the throttle forward, he advanced towards the enemy.

Soon, the first TIE was within visual range, ripping out of the blizzard with its characteristic speed directly ahead of him. Within a second, he fired a burst and pivoted out of the way.

Yet, he heard no explosion. His targeting computer confirmed a hit, but was still tracking the fighter.

A second later, someone else answered his question.

"They've got shields!" The message was quickly followed by the telltale explosion of a fighter. Ril barely paid attention to the following confirmation of a downed friendly as he turned hard.

His turn landed him on the tail of a different TIE. The previous one was still on him, but he had at least a second and a half. So, he held down the trigger this time, letting a veritable stream of red streak forward.

Instantly he recognized the blue shimmer that appeared around the impact points, crackling as the shield tried its best to hold out. But after the sixth landed shot it gave out, and the seventh and eighth ripped the TIE to shreds.

But he'd taken too long. Just as he started his own evasive turn, the other TIE caught him, green death splashing his rearward shields. Still, he managed his turn, dumping more power to engines in order to lose the TIE in the storm.

Across the battlefield, the same dance played out. His squadmates were surprised at first. Shields on a TIE fighter? Since when has the Empire ever spent more than a half-credit on TIE's?

Some paid for this surprise. Two down already. Ril didn't remember their names, but Shell-squadron was new. Pulled together from a dozen near-dead squadrons from across the region.

It was a consequence of their cockiness, to be honest. Resources had started to become less scarce. Success after success had emboldened a not-insignificant number of cell leaders. Now, they were down a half dozen major cells because of foolish mistakes.

Had the Mid-Rim not taught them anything?

Ril supposed it didn't matter to him. At least, not at the moment. He could ruminate on politics later. Right now, he had a job to do.

It took nearly twenty minutes to clean up the enemy TIE's. Twenty minutes was a long time for an engagement of this scale.

Shell wasn't the only squadron there, of course. Across the valley multiple squadrons clashed with TIE's while B-Wings and other bombers made their way towards their targets. But twenty minutes?

Sure, Shell wasn't Rogue Squadron, but that was absurd.

However, even with their victories in the skies, the situation on the ground only worsened.

Their anti-orbital weaponry could only slow the Imperial advance, not stop it. In the distance, through the rare gaps in the blizzard's wall of ice, he spotted Imperial dropships disgorging more and more forces. Not just AT-AT's, but more. Tanks, repulsor-craft, infantry carriers.

All protected by a thick black swarm of TIE fighters. Even if they weren't shielded, it would be a bloody fight. One Ril knew the Alliance couldn't afford at that point.

Over the comms, he was informed of the next phase of their plan.

"The base is nearly evacuated! All squadrons, reposition and escort our evacuation ships off-world!"

From there, Shell squadron ripped around, pivoting back towards the base. A cursory look at the base revealed the extent of their situation.

Every hangar wide open, empty of anything of importance. Even now as the final freighters left, people were dragging any technology and weapons they could carry with them. Someone even grabbed what looked to be the caf machine.

Ril wasn't sure why'd they do that. The caf it made was awful.

Upon reaching the base, they were directed upwards, towards the evacuating ships already in movement.

The familiar sight of GR-75's and other similar freighters appeared before him, racing away on modified engines.

"Enemy TIE's incoming! Shell squadron, defend transports 5 and 8!"

Again Shell squadron pivoted, forming up on an intercept towards the incoming TIE fighters. The fighters up ahead looked strange, and it put him on edge. First shielded TIE's and now a new type all together?

Instinctively, he redirected some power towards shields.

As they engaged, he lined up a shot with the first fighters. But as he pulled the trigger and watched the shots streak out into the void, the TIE did something new. It twisted.

Its engines quite literally twisted, sending it into a downwards spin. He turned to follow, lining up a second shot as he flew in behind it.

That was when it twisted again. But not the engines this time. No, this time, it was the cannons.

Suddenly, his ship was rocked with laser fire, shields falling, and he pulled up, pushing his engines to the max to avoid the enemy fire.

That was when the warning came over comms.

"All units! We've identified the enemy TIE's as Whirlwinds! Intel labels them threat level BLACK! GET OUT OF THERE!"

Shit. That was bad. Ril wanted to run. He knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but by the Force he wanted to run.

Duros such as himself had, under their ribs, two small sacs. When stressed, they filled with acid. And right now, Ril's gut was near bursting. He wanted nothing more than to activate his hyperdrive and get out.

Instead, as he heard his fellow rebels die over comms, he knew he couldn't. Whipping back around, redirecting what little shield power remained to thrusters, he flew back into the frey.

Ahead of him was another Whirlwind, tailing a friendly. Its side was to him, gun turrets blocked by its wings.

He held down the trigger, watching with glee as the shots connected, enemy shield rippling blue.

Then the wings folded down, and the turret aimed at him.

Ril Baagoss saw green, and thought of retirement.

Ril Baagoss saw green, and thought of nothing.

–

Las
3.5 ABY

A gentle turn of the controls smoothly tilted the ship to the left, deftly avoiding the asteroid.

"This is an insulting speed. I demand we race forward."

"No."

I ignored Myr'thos's continued rants about how it was 'uncouth to move so slowly' and focused on navigating the asteroid field.

I was once again back in my executive shuttle, my personal ship. I loved it dearly, and had learned the basics of flight back in my days as Governor.

Recently, I'd picked it back up again. This time, however, it wasn't for leisure.

See, I'd been plotting, planning, scheming. On how to fake my death.

Well, the deaths of myself, Mugwuffin and Myr'thos.

The plan itself was fairly smart, if I do say so myself.

I decided to start flying my ship through the field, with escorts nearby of course, under the excuse of 'leisure' rides. I would continue to do this with decent amounts of regularity, in order for it to become routine.

In the meantime, using Myr'thos as a proxy, I would purchase and have hidden a ship, a highly modified light freighter, within the asteroid field.

It was unfortunate that my previous one was to be left forgotten down on Minda, but it was simply the way of things.

One day, not long after the destruction of the death star, maybe a month or two to really let the chaos ramp up, I'd take a ride in the asteroid field.

And then my ship would explode. Myr'thos, Mugwuffin and I would eject beforehand, of course, but the ship would explode quite violently. Then, using our spacesuits and boost-packs, we'd make our way over to the ship and quietly leave before anyone could get there.

Of course, this hinged on me ditching my escorts so they weren't around to see my freighter running away. That's where Myr'thos would come in.

"You have no tact! I am an esteemed individual of high standing. The least your craven self could do to accommodate me is increase the speed of this blasted vessel."

"If you want to go so fast, why don't you get your own ship? I prefer the slow and steady pace."

They scoffed. "If 'slow and steady' is your preferred pace, it is no wonder you remain alone. The sector's line of succession is in dire straits it seems."

Now it was my turn to scoff. "First of all, my position is not hereditary. Second of all, my romantic life is perfectly healthy and I will tolerate no accusations towards the opposite."

"I spend much of my waking life at your side, and so I know full well that not a single consort, concubine, or whore of any species or gender has graced your bed."

"Well–"

"Your hand doesn't count."

"...my imagination is a potent thing."

A laugh broke out over the comms before quickly being smothered, and I felt a bloom of satisfaction.

See, I'd kept my escorts on open comms 'just in case' something happened. By making jokes and having Myr'thos complain about the speed on the regular, I could ensure an alibi of sorts.

On the day of my plan, I would 'give in' to their demands and speed up significantly. My shuttle was decked out to hell and back, and could easily outspeed my escorts.

This would allow me to get to my freighter. And when questioned as to why I would suddenly do this, my escorts would remark on the fact that Myr'thos and I had this same argument every time.

It was a perfect plan. Honestly, it was my only plan right now. Everything else I was planning for was far more complex.

That damned quota was going to be the death of me. I was trying everything I could, but it wasn't enough.

All my usual plans weren't enough. I was used to moving around existing things. I was used to having time. I was used to not being the center of attention.

Now I was the only coaxium producer this side of the Oversector, and the pressure was on. The industry couldn't scale fast enough without accepting unneeded deaths. Which would reflect poorly on myself.

I was considering less legal methods. Moving empty shipments, having outbound shipments 'raided', etc… but none of that could work on a large enough scale without far too much risk. At best it would help me stall things out.

Not to mention the blowback that was inevitable no matter what I did. Production was being pumped across the sector for just about any and all things military or military-related. People were going to be working harder hours for longer, and I couldn't spare the money needed to pay them a proper extra compensation. Only enough to keep people in the black.

Automation was too expensive as an alternative, and people would resent losing their jobs. Not to mention anti-CIS sentiment was high in the region. Especially after the Hand prominently used droids in their terror attacks.

So I needed to pump production sector wide, alongside meeting an impossible coaxium quota, and keep the people from jumping me.

I had no idea what to do, and to avoid thinking about it for a little bit, I decided to switch to a different problem. The Navy.

So, I called Ife.

The first thing I noticed as her holo sprang up was that she looked haggard. The holo on my ship was of high quality, none of that awful glitching or pixelated fuzziness. Meaning I could see the bags under her eyes, the tenseness in her shoulders.

Was the job getting to her?

"Good evening, Admiral. I'm calling for a rundown of your naval situation. Have the mercenaries acquitted themselves well?"

The Guild couldn't solve my coaxium problem, but it could help patch the gaping hole left by Darth Vader's little spree of greed. Mercenaries and Guild vessels were now helping take hold of some of the Navies duties, interspersed among regular patrols to stretch our forces farther.

"They've managed. While not quite as professional as I'd hoped, the mercenaries have proven competent and capable in lower roles. However, they aren't enough to return back to our previous state." Responded Ife.

"I see. That's as good as it's going to get for now. Our production capacity is being diverted towards exports, so I can only get you an Arbiter a month right now."

She sighed, and it was a deep thing. Her shoulders seemed to almost fall slack before they launched back up into position as though they had almost fallen asleep and were now trying to stay awake.

Clearly, something was getting to her. What could it–oh shit.

I'd forgotten about Hoth.

"Admiral. I want you back on Minda for an evaluation."

Her eyes widened in shock, fear clear within. "Sir, I'm not–"

"You're not getting demoted. You are getting a break, however. It's clear to me you aren't in the best mental space at the moment."

"Respectfully, sir, I'm–"

"--going to come to Minda, speak with a mental health counselor, and take a week off with your girlfriend. I will not have my top naval officer buried under the current workload in such a state."

She had some fight left in her, that much was clear, but it fled the moment I mentioned time off with her girlfriend.

HAVEN kept tabs on her and Shal, given their respective positions and Ife's importance to the sector, and by all accounts they didn't get much time together. I was practically dangling a juicy steak in front of her.

"...understood, sir."

"Oh stop moping Ife, you'll be fine. Just remember to speak honestly about your feelings, and use protection!"

Her cheeks darkened, and her mouth opened in shock, and I cut the call on the spot. Funnier that way.

Though…speaking honestly. Now that could work…

–

Hallo. Been binging Vintage Story after the absolute peak that is Torched by RubixRaptor ended. Shits addicting man. Love getting gored by 10,000 Drifters.

As promised, here is the Rebel POV of the battle. Not my best but I figure it gets the point across. The Rebels got more stuff out of Hoth, the Empire still kicked their shit in, and some poor fucker got slimed by a Whirlwind doing its shenanigans.

-Freefaller