Chapter 56: Chapter 56

A Young Girl’s War Between the Stars

Corulag Military Academy, 38 BBY/962 GSC. One year since joining.

Sitting alone at a table in the chow hall, I quickly and quietly demolished my absurdly sized meal as I opened my datapad and checked the newest message. I barely tasted the food as my eyes swept back and forth across the text and images on it. It appeared to be the latest in a series of reports from now officially Captain Taris on their current mission.

Jaster had sent me some intel nearly eight months ago—apparently, Black Sun pirates had been pushing into Mandalorian space and hitting ships in the Concord Dawn, New Kleyman, and Phindar systems. And while Mandalore could plan some kind of ambush with the growing fleet they were building and destroy the pirate vessels, they wanted the problem to stop entirely and not come back six months to a year from the time it was ‘resolved.’

My little stealth ship and her crew had been instrumental in that operation.

I’d passed the request along to Capt. Taris along with my instructions and suggestions. My instructions were simple and had a lot of latitude for him to execute how he saw fit: capture a pirate ship, interrogate the crew, find out where they were coming from, then work their way up the chain from there. My suggestion was to set up in the same way as the original owners of the ship had—out near the hyperspace exit point, hiding in an asteroid field, then wait for the pirates to engage.

They had enlisted the help of several local traders who had been raided, set up an ambush, and led the enemy pirates right into it. From there, they had used the railgun to disable the pirate vessel’s engines and a team of marines had boarded. Interrogations followed. They had since gone on a hunting spree, repeating the tactic across Mandalorian space and moving on to a new AO when the pirates started realizing that their friends weren’t reporting back.

For the last several months, I had received at least one report a month on the situation, in addition to the usual expense reports, supply status updates, fuel and ammunition expenditure requests, and other minutiae that got forwarded to me after my people handled it. They all told a story of a ship that was very busy, zooming about Mandalorian space and putting in the work, and helped to flesh out Capt. Taris’s reports on the matter. Most of those were short and simple descriptions of engagements—a ship destroyed here, one captured and sent to be sold there. Very few had actionable intelligence, which was a big part of the reason it had taken so long.

Today however, it seemed the final report I had been waiting for had come in.

The crew had finally caught a break and tracked the pirate gang harassing Mandalore, a branch of the Black Suns, to the Bright Jewel system and Ord Mantell—located directly galactic north of Coruscant, in the Mid-Rim. Ord Mantell itself was a former industrial world. However, its location on a major hyperspace lane (the Celanon Spur), proximity to Coruscant, position between the Expansion Region and Outer Rim meant it was also important, strategically—both militarily and for trade.

Thus, for some time now, the planet and system had been undergoing a sort of… galactic gentrification as wealthy business interests moved in over the last half millennia. Now, Ord Mantell was home to casinos, gambling dens, illegal races, and more. To my understanding, it was effectively Space Vegas. And just as one would expect with Vegas, it had a lot of security who didn’t like people causing problems. Unfortunately, also like Vegas to my understanding, it was almost entirely corrupt and the Black Sun had been able to come to an agreement with the corporations cleaning up Ord Mantell over several lucrative deals and bribes.

The Black Sun had moved their operation off of the planet proper and left tourists coming and going from Ord Mantell alone. In exchange, they were allowed to buy rights to Quantxi, one of Ord Mantell’s moons—nicknamed the Junk Moon of Ord Mantell for the large portions of its surface that had been turned into junkyards and which were slowly being reclaimed by nature. It was the perfect hideout for the scum of the galaxy to use as a base for that sector. It had been a haven for mercenaries, smugglers, bounty hunters, con artists, drug dealers, and more for a couple hundred of years now.

Or at least, that’s what my research in my down time had turned up, as soon as Ord Mantell showed up in Capt. Taris’s reports. The Black Sun owning Quantxi was one of those open secrets everyone knows and people warn you about when you travel in the area. The kind of things government officials call ‘conspiracy theories’ and their police and military ignore because they’ve been paid good money to ignore them.

As with all the reports from Capt. Taris, this one was also entirely in Mando’a—so at least I was getting my practice in with using the language. That, and it made an excellent basic cipher against any curious passers by attempting to read over my shoulder.

[Final report re: Operation Shriek-hawk. 11-11-962.]

Following up from my last report regarding Operation Shriek-hawk. We’ve completed the operation and eliminated the local Black Sun cell. I’m happy to report that it was a massive success.

Dropped out of hyperspace in the Bright Jewel system just past the asteroid belt under camouflage.

Set course for Ord Mantell along intra-system trade route.

Encountered corporate system patrol.

Reviewed event and sensor logs.

Nothing of note to report.

Put marines on standby and ordered half-duty.

Entered Ord Mantell orbital path.

Adjusted course for Quantxi.

Entered Quantxi high orbit.

Confirmed location of pirate base from gathered intel.

Passive sensors detected no active sensors on the base.

Conducted orbital recon and deployed probe droids for close recon.

Passive sensors detected a landing strip with twenty-six ships: a mix of freighters, transports, light attack ships, and corvettes – sensor readings and photographs [enclosed].

1540. Follow current novᴇls on N0velFire.ɴet

Probe droids recalled.

Began analysis of data gathered and planning for mission.

Deployed Strill and Rawl ahead of ship with marine contingent.

Ordered general quarters, set REDCON Zeta.

Video of full operation attached [here]. Summary as follows:

Accelerated into Quantxi atmosphere trailing Strill and Rawl.

Descended to 2000 en route to target.

Entered holding position over target, began active sensor scans.

Detected over 100 hostiles on site, exact number uncertain due to sensor interference from partial shielding of facility and the state some bodies were left in.

Marines deployed, Strill and Rawl on station for CAS.

Marines breached main hangar entry and used explosives to breach rooftop.

Several pirates tried to flee for the ships, but CAS eliminated them before they could make it. No damage to ships.

One minor injury: a marine twisted his ankle jumping from the Rawl and not engaging his jetpack with enough force to properly slow his fall.

Some pirates were taken for interrogation.

Pirate leader committed suicide when our marines made it to him.

No hostile forces remaining.

Slaves recovered, sent to medical for examination and immediate treatment where needed.

They were then freed and dropped off by shuttle at the Ord Mantell spaceport with enough money to buy a ticket out of the system.

Sent a marine escort to make sure they weren’t disturbed.

Escort reported all former captives safely boarded transit off-world.

All enemy ships recovered.

Enemy base and ships looted.

Itemized list of acquisitions from our quartermaster [here].

Commandeered two GR-45 medium freighters and one YT-2000 light freighter on-site to store and move goods.

Will crew them with our people and droids temporarily, long enough to get them back to Mandalore and get them inspected, maintained, and refit. Will hire crew to fly them once we reach Mandalore.

Made contact with Mandalore, reported success, and requested pickup for ships.

Currently maintaining orbit over site while we wait for a ship to arrive to crew the other vessels.

When they arrive, we will return to Mandalore for maintenance and shore leave, with a stopover at Zeltros to sell contraband.

Analysis of data collected on-site suggests that this was only a small Black Sun cell. While this cell was responsible for harassing ships in Mandalorian space, there are more Black Sun out there. Hopefully they get the message and stay out of our space. I do have concerns that they may try to come after us, but I’m confident that no one managed to get a message through the jamming before or during any of our operations against them. Still, it’s possible that someone in-system may have taken notice of our ship and could report back to them. We’ll be on the lookout for trouble in the future, just in case.

Before you left, you instructed me to find ways to grow the business and increase our effectiveness. At this point, the best way I can see to do that is to form a small fleet and take on crew. A large cargo ship, droids for labor, and more crew means we can more effectively loot whatever we come across in our privateer operations. We can use one of those ships as a fuel hauler and mobile refueling station, allowing us to stay out longer and when we do have to go for fuel, we can send the tanker to pick it up and not either risk our stealth ship or have to travel back to Mandalore, Serenno, or a friendly port who knows to keep their mouth shut. The YT-2000 can fill several roles from inconspicuous recon, to allowing crew to take shore leave without deploying our shuttles and having people wondering what larger craft they belong to, to acting as bait.

I’ll see about getting a ship or two to act as escorts as well, maybe one of those Consulars we captured if there are any left. I’ll send you an update once I know something.

Reading between the lines of Capt. Taris’s very dry and to the point report, things had gone well. Very well, in fact.

The local Black Sun were entirely too confident in their numbers, the intentional avoidance of their location due to their reputation, and their deal with the powers on Ord Mantell given how lax their security was. My marine forces had deployed while the stealth ship descended into atmosphere behind our two drop ships, all three parking above the site just in range of the guns as the Mando marines swept and cleared the area. There was resistance and some of the pirates tried to flee, but they weren’t expecting Mandos to come for them, or ships firing on anyone who tried to make a run for it.

In the end, most of the pirates were simply wiped out, with only a few being captured for questioning—then summarily executed, since law on Ord Mantell was whatever you made for yourself, outside of the cities. The local leader had swallowed the barrel of his blaster rather than face capture and what his superiors in the greater Black Sun would do to him.

Capt. Taris’s assessment that the Black Sun could pose a threat in the future was valid. Groups like that tended to hold grudges. But we knew what we were potentially picking a fight with going in.

Black Sun was big and old. They had been around for over thirty-five hundred years now and were one of the Five Families of Crime—and alongside the Hutts, they had maintained that position for a very long time. They didn’t stay around that long by being entirely stupid. Hopefully, they realized that retaliation would just be picking a fight they wouldn’t walk away from—one they started by messing around in Mandalorian space, no less.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Then again, when have you ever known power hungry gangsters to be reasonable. Better tell him to make sure that no one takes shore leave alone.

Finishing up the last of my double serving of protein—doctor’s orders, after my physical and the medic doing a little research on my race and determining that I was going to need it as I went through this growth spurt unless I wanted to end up stunted and tiny again—I began typing out a reply, letting Capt. Taris know he’d done a good job and approving his decision to take on more ships and crew and form a fleet. A grin spread on my lips as I thought about all the things we could do with a small fleet of freighters and escorts as support ships—and I ignored the way the people at the neighboring tables pulled away and shifted from radiating the general discontent found in most military personnel to putting off fear, if for just a moment.

As he said, they could stay in the field longer and pick up more loot, but there are other benefits. Having a ship that can disguise itself as a freighter is nice, but actually slipping it into the middle of a group of other freighters? It’s the perfect camouflage for moving around in a system and not looking like a tempting lone target, as long as they stick to the shipping lanes and don’t do anything to draw too much attention. With preparation, a freighter the size of a GR-45 could be converted into a carrier and/or mobile base. I should tell him to see if they have a third…

Considering it for a moment, and the theoretical operating costs involved in it, I sighed and started backspacing over my text. No, never mind. Not yet. Eventually, though. On the other hand, those GR-45s are big enough to hide one of Cid’s railguns in. Having two more platforms capable of hitting a target at range would be very useful. As long as it doesn’t interfere with storing cargo or fuel, I should have him ask how long it would take to retrofit them. If it won’t take too long, then we should do it.

Hoersch-Kessel Drive, Inc. Headquarters, Nimban. 37 BBY/963 GSC.

Krovep Krovalis paced back and forth in his office, wringing his hands as he waited for the call to come in that would change his fortune, and that of his company. Glancing around his office, he once again silently cursed himself for making the mistake of accepting the promotion to CEO. What he had thought was a big opportunity to advance his career had turned out to instead be career suicide.

What was once a wildly successful starship manufacturer for thousands of yearshad come upon hard times, when the generational Duros owners and investors had made some bad decisions and other starship manufacturers had capitalized, either out-competing them, expanding to fill a niche HKD didn’t, or just outright buying up parts of HKD wholesale when the investors and owners started selling things off. Entire departments, shipyards, and the best engineers gone to keep those people in their seats a little longer. It was eventually sold off to a Nimbanese clan, the Nimbanel, who then further mismanaged it. Until roughly a half-century ago, when the Trade Federation had bought out HKD from the Krovalis clan.

At first, things had been looking up. The Trade Federation wanted to expand trade, and so ordered production of a large number of quite frankly excessively large ships. They wanted to revive the last hugely successful product HKD had built—an updated version of the LH-3010 capital freighter, a ship so successful and popular that some were still around today.

Enter the LH-3210 Lucrehulk-class capital freighter. The ship was essentially a broken circle in shape, a hollow saucer hull design with a spherical central core. Having nearly a mile radius, it was enormous—capable of carrying twenty-five million tons of cargo. At the Trade Federation’s request, as an upgrade from the LH-3010 it was modular. The control core—the LH-1740—was capable of acting as an independent vessel. The interior could be rearranged for a variety of purposes, from hauling bulk cargo, to fuel, people, or even other ships. There were twenty-eight weapon mounts built onto the ship for quad laser cannons, but with the modular interior, if one wanted they could theoretically load the entire thing full of torpedoes or missiles—not that anyone saw a reason to, but the fact that an owner could was a selling point.

The biggest selling point, however, came in the fact that the Trade Federation had requested its operation be made as simple as possible. So simple, even the dumbest of protocol droids could operate it if it came down to it. Of course, HKD saw the intent, and the value there—it would cut down on the number of crew needed and allow the Trade Federation to fill out their ranks with low cost droids, leaving the smarter sentients to do the jobs that required someone with the ability to think for themselves.

Then, of course, they wanted something to escort their very large freighters. They requested a ship that could act as an armed escort frigate, but also fill multiple other roles depending on loadout—from frigate, to small carrier, comms relay, and more. And like the Lucrehulk, they wanted it as simple as possible, for what would likely be a large number of droids manning all of the non-essential stations. That was how the Munificent-class came about.

Additionally, they received a design forwarded from Mon Calamari Shipyards for something called the Recusant-class light destroyer. It was to be a cruiser to act as either a support ship or a destroyer, for their escort forces. It was to be armed to the teeth and equipped with fighter bays, and came in two sizes—0.7 mile length and 1.5 mile length.

With as many ships as the Trade Federation were demanding, HKD had been very, very busy for the last several decades and had made a lot of money. Unfortunately, as these things sometimes go, a number of bad decisions and a bunch of blatant corruption had turned what should have been a massive windfall that would save the company around into a burden they were obligated to find a way to fulfill with most of the money already spent.

This had led to HKD cutting corners when the Trade Federation was already urging them to cut corners and save on costs as it was—with the intent being to push out a large volume of cheap, mass produced ships as quickly as possible to expand their business. Except now, what should have been the normal level of cost cutting and graft had turned into something entirely unsafe in terms of both working conditions and survivability of the product itself.

Which had then led to every new CEO coming in, taking a look at things, finding a way to somehow cut more spending by firing employees and selling off production facilities and other properties, before bailing out. Only to repeat the cycle with the next one, and the next, and so on in a chain that led to this place, and this moment. To an office not in what should have been their corporate headquarters on Nimban—that was sold, of course—but rather the office of what had once been a plant manager, in their largest remaining production facility on Nimban.

But that was all in the past! Things were looking up. With just one more holocall, everything would turn around.

Krovep was a Nimbanel with a dream. He was going to be the one to fix HKD and return it to the glory it had once held. He was going to be the leader who expanded the company, who increased profits without massive layoffs or selling their assets. He was going to invest in the company’s future and ensure it lasted for another thousand years.

For that, he was taking a bottom up approach, instead of the top down look previous CEOs had done. And that started with getting control of their supplies.

A lot went into the construction of a starship. Not just raw materials, but partially finished parts as well. Take, for instance, the simple sheathed copper cable.

It wasn’t a superconductor. It was cheap and easy to produce by the ton. It was ubiquitous and universal, used in every product they manufactured. Every year, they used thousands of tons of it by the man-sized spool, in a variety of gauges from as thick as someone’s wrist, all the way down to nearly as fine as a hair.

Copper itself was plentiful on most planets and the methods for mining and refining it were so simple they could be entirely automated by a droid workforce. The production of sheathed copper cable was a little more involved. Pulling and spinning the cable, coating it in your non-conductive insulating sheathing of choice, then spooling and packaging it. But again, it was something that had been automated by using droids for so long nearly no one used actual living labor for it anymore. The insulation was less easy to produce and required many more steps, but it could be bought in bulk for cheap.

So then, if it was so easy, so cheap to produce, why weren’t they doing it themselves? Why were they spending hundreds of millions of credits every single year to have some other planet produce it, then paying to import it to Nimban?

It was wasteful and shortsighted!

That’s where Krovep had come in. He had bought up a small, local mining company on Nimban and a copper mine, then set them to work. Likewise, he had bought a refinery to refine the mined copper, and another company to do all of the work necessary to spool it into cable. An investment of less than half a billion credits would, in only three years time, pay for itself. Every year after that was pure profit.

He had been doing that with as many other bits and bobs as he could. Buying or building locally where it was possible, or finding the cheapest source he could from another planet and having it shipped to Nimban temporarily, while planning in the future to entice companies to move to Nimban and produce it here to lower those costs.

Then there was the largest and most expensive parts on any ship: the frame and the hull. Those were typically made entirely of durasteel. All of the work to cast the durasteel into the requisite parts could be done locally, but the sheer volume of durasteel required was mind-boggling. Nimban simply didn’t have the production capacity to keep up, and it would take ten years to build the facilities required to do so. He had begun investing now, of course, but those payoffs would take a decade or more to start appearing on financial reports and in the meantime looked like losses.

So, Krovep had begun looking outside of Nimban for a source, or multiple sources, of durasteel in the volume they needed. Unfortunately, as he had learned, while there were many sources of durasteel, there were fewer providers—and, in fact, as it turned out most of those were owned either in full or in part, operated, partnered with, or used the Trade Federation in some manner. It wasn’t quite a monopoly, but it was close.

If he didn’t buy from the Trade Federation, that meant buying from Republic aligned worlds. That meant paying more than forty percent in ‘value added taxes’ to the Republic, in addition to a ‘non-Republic fee,’ on a vital resource and then hoping it would get to him and wouldn’t be secretly confiscated and lost because the Republic decided they needed it more than he did.

That was because with tensions on the rise, many worlds were now pumping out ships in alarming numbers. The Republic were churning them out as fast as they could from multiple planets and directing as much durasteel their direction as possible, and if a few shipments got lost, they expected people to just eat the cost. Many worlds in the Outer Rim were making what they could for the Trade Federation. Independent worlds were doing likewise. Even worlds that ostensibly were part of the Republic, or which had been in the recent past, were scaling up production—and decidedly not to aid the Republic in whatever was coming, if rumors were to be believed.

Demand was up and supply was down, which meant that the cost of durasteel was through the roof. In fact, it had more than tripled in the last few years since the original order for ships was placed by the Trade Federation and looked to be set to go as high as five times its normal cost within the next two years. Even if the previous CEOs hadn’t squandered most of the money for the project, the cost of durasteel would have soured the deal and meant they were barely breaking even on production.

One would think that since the Trade Federation wanted this contract finished, if they wanted their ships for what was looking very much like a war to anyone with two brain cells to rub together, then they would be willing to cut HKD a deal on getting durasteel. One would be wrong.

No, he had spoken with representatives from the Trade Federation on multiple occasions and all they had to offer was meaningless platitudes, or quoting basic economic theory at him with a condescending tone, like he didn’t understand how the market worked. He knew, he knew they were doing it on purpose, andit was infuriating.

But now, now he could do something about it. He had an opportunity to turn it all around.

When Krovep had been at his lowest, that was when he found his hope renewed. It was as though the gods, the Force, or the universe itself had opened unto him and provided him with the answer to his prayers. With salvation.

It came in the form of a message, one morning. A plea for help, from a world some distance to the galactic south.

Krovep had never heard of Tatooine before. Apparently, it was some lawless, backwater desert world in a system with two stars. They didn’t have much, but what they did have was a fairly lucrative mining and smelting operation—several of them, really.

The message he had received had come from a human who was set to inherit his father’s mining and metal refining company upon his father’s death—a company that specialized in durasteel, and which had apparently produced large volumes of the material before the father’s illness. The son didn’t want the company. He wanted to move to Coruscant and attend school there, then seek his fortunes elsewhere. So he was looking for potential buyers and had sent a message out to many of the major shipyards and drive manufacturers, looking for anyone willing to purchase the business.

The things some people throw away, not realizing what they have. He’s effectively a prince on that little backwater with his father’s company and money, but he wants to give it all up to be a nobody on Coruscant. I couldn’t do it.

So far, everything looked to be going smoothly. Krovep had gone over the contract himself and found it to be surprisingly direct and to the point, with no hidden clauses, fees, or other legal pitfalls. The contract listed out all of the company’s assets and offered them in whole or in part as a cash sale. Krovep had agreed and pulled the credits from the company’s finances, and moved them into a different account to prepare to transfer them. All he needed now was the final approval of the sale from the seller, proof of receipt of the credits, and to have the seller sign over the deeds to him.

“What’s taking so long—”

The holocom chose that moment to ring and the Nimbanel hurried to answer it. Seeing that it was the seller, he sighed in relief and picked up. “Good day, Mr. Eisley,” he smiled.

“And a good afternoon to you as well, sir.”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to call,” Krovep chuckled.

There was a moment of hesitation from the other end. “Ah, well. Yes. It’s just that I was just informed this morning that there is a potential… issue with the sale.”

Frowning, the Nimbanel asked, “What kind of problem are we talking about?”

“Not a problem, just a snag. A formality, really. I had forgotten, in processing my father’s passing and my hurry to get away from Tatooine so that I may grieve in peace, just how business is run here. Tell me, have you ever dealt with a Hutt?”

Krovep forced himself not to groan as he sat down in his desk chair, a feeling in his gut telling him he knew exactly where this was going. “I have. What did he demand?”

“Tribute, of course,” Mr. Eisley sighed. “A tithe.”

This time, Krovep did groan. “Who? And how much?”

“The ‘great’ Jabba Desilijic Tiure was quite literal when he specified a tithe. One tenth of the proceeds of the sale.”

Krovep’s jaw went slack for a moment, before rage filled him. Slamming a fist on the table, he roared, “That fat worm wants one tenth of a fifty billion credit deal?!”

“That was what he said, yes. I’m sorry. If you don’t want to deal with it, I understand. I’ll move on to the next buyer—”

Feeling sick to his stomach, Krovep shook his head. “No. Hang on, I’m thinking.” Rubbing his head, Krovep asked, “Are you sure it wouldn’t just be cheaper to hire someone to remove him?”

“It would, until the Hutts sent someone to replace him, who would just make the same demand. I suppose you could keep paying to have Hutts removed until they stopped sending them…”

“Tempting as that is, word might get back to them about who’s arranging it. No. I’ll, I’ll pay it. Damnit. Let’s arrange the transfer now. I want this over and done with. When can I send someone to inspect the facilities?”

“As soon as you’re ready. I’ll let the people on site know to expect you. Now, if you’ll just sign here…”

Jedi Temple, Coruscant. Jedi Archives, Archive of Forbidden Artifacts, server room.

An innocuous server in the back of the collection hummed and whirred away as the reprogrammed tactical droid brain inside it watched a large sum of money hit a bank account under its control. Immediately, it sent the credits out to other accounts it controlled, disguising the transactions as purchases of goods and services.

From there, the credits went through multiple other layers of transactions, before finally being deposited into one of the accounts it used for trading the galactic stock market. A full quarter of the funds were then sent out to an account in a bank controlled by Mandalore, along with a message detailing the transaction.

Fans spun up as the droid began buying shares in Republic companies. With barely an afterthought, the droid closed the original account used to receive the credits.

By the time anyone thought to attempt to reverse the charge and reclaim the credits, it would be too late.

Corulag Military Academy.

Returning from the shower, I raised an eyebrow as I saw I had a message on my datapad. Toweling at my damp hair, I opened it and skimmed through it, before blinking and rereading, slower.

“She’s got that weird look on her face again.”

“Let’s give her the room so she can rub one out.”

“That, or she’s about to kill someone.”

I rolled my eyes. “‘That weird look’ is called a smile. You should try it some time,” I shot back. “And it has nothing to do with anything remotely sexual. I just received some good news.”

There was a pause as her roommates shared a look.

“Did we declare war on someone?”

“Maybe they finally got her signed up for that personality transplant.”

I briefly considered petty revenge in the form of excessive PT in the morning, but decided against it. My mood was just too good to be spoiled by a little friendly sniping. Anyone would be, if they received a message telling them that they were not just obscenely wealthy, but they had likely just economically crippled an enemy’s production capability at the same time—at least temporarily.

Now, to reinvest in the company and dump most of that into making sure my people are paid and properly equipped. Spend money to make money.