Author - hello my little gremlins, life is tuff but i am tuffer on god.
Anywho job market is a fucking joke 1 job couldnt schedule me on my 1st shift instantly fucking up (was supposed to go on 12-20 shift but they said i was scheduled for 5-12 lmao) and when i showed them proof that said otherwise they were like nuh uh and fired me on basis I was late on my 1st day (I disputed it and got severance which was the paycheck for that 1 day I didnt work for lmao). The other jobs are not better who the fuck asks for bachelors degree when applying for an entry level job as a fucking cashier in a small corner shop. Like be fr.
I have to take care of my sick family members so fuck it I am going to uni, not like we are dying or anything but its been tough. I am trying to set up patreon I have no idea if I did it right -
patreon (dot) com / Deluxee
I do not have anything special planned at the moment, no discord or advanced chapter really. I just made it in case someone wants to support me, 2 people buy it and I can buy a monster. Better yet, if you are a millionaire hit me up and wire me a million lmao (I wish). But you dont have to worry I wont turn this into CHECK OUT THE REST OF MY STORY ON MY PATREON so its all purely to support me if you have some spare change or something, you dont have to feel obliged.
BTW its 8BBY so still around 3 years till shit hits the fan, I will speed up some things but you wont be seeing 1 year timeskips dont worry.
***
The Diplomatic Spire was quieter when we returned.
The last of the Empire Day crowds had already begun thinning out across the upper levels, leaving behind only the low hum of traffic and the distant glow of celebration lights still burning across the skyline, plus maybe one or two drunken shouts.
Our shuttles settled onto the secure landing platform with the usual controlled precision.
Torv was first off, scanning the area before giving a short nod, I love my paranoid man. The rest of us followed in a tight group Atii a step to my left, Jaster close behind, Rusty moving with silent mechanical grace at the rear.
Thankfully Rusty did not tempt murphy and did not get into trouble, how would I explain to old palps or inquisitor how I got a unique droid like that as a country bumpkin.
As we walked down the ramp I kept my expression calm and controlled, at least I think it is. It is the same steady face I had worn all day on the terrace my face is kind of crampped not going to lie.
But, Inside, everything felt tighter.
The sheer scale of what I had just witnessed still pressed against the back of my skull. The endless ranks of stormtroopers. The absolute behemoths and the mind boggling number of star destroyers hanging in orbit like dark mountains.
The Emperor's voice rolling across not millions but trillions of people across the galaxy as if the entire galaxy belonged to him by natural right. Standing there among high officers and Moffs, I had felt how small Elyria truly was.
Four systems, Twenty-seven million people with a few dozen capital ships and a hidden droid that would get stomped down the drain with only a miniscule amount of effort on their part.
We moved through the secure corridors of the Spire in relative silence. Palace guards and stormtroopers from our contingent fell into place around us without needing orders once we reached our assigned quarters, Torv immediately began a full sweep of the rooms while Rusty checked the local jammers and encrypted channels.
I removed my formal cape and draped it over a chair, then stood by the wide window overlooking the glowing cityscape.
No aura farming boys on the skylight this time I guess, instead I swear I can see something glinting in the distance, I just hope its some piece of metal and not a scope.
I look up and down, left to right and marvel at the sight.
From up here Coruscant still looked beautiful an endless machine of light and power inhabited by trillions with thousands of different species. All in the palm of one decrepit looking old man with a hardon for large space balls that piss green death lasers.
"Everything went as expected, no incidents o direct challenges. We were treated well enough."
Torv grunted from the other side of the room. "Too many eyes on us."
"I know," I said. "That's why we leave as soon as the final arrangements are done."
Rusty stepped forward. "Secure channels remain clean., no attempted breaches detected. However, passive observation of our group has been consistent, even till now."
I nodded once, still staring out at the endless lights.
God damn its bright and loud.
Outwardly I looked unfazed just a young governor processing a long day. Inside, the quiet panic sat heavy in my chest. Being this close to the center of the Empire made every secret I carried feel sharper.
Someone out there had already sent bounty hunters after my convoys. Now I had stood on a terrace with Pellaeon and Thrawn, accepted gifts, and drawn attention that I had no way of avoiding. Even if I did that in itself would bring more attention.
I turned away from the window and faced the group. "Get some rest. We start preparing for departure tomorrow. I want us gone as soon as the last of the cargo we brought is sold and supplies we buy loaded."
They acknowledged the order without argument. One by one they began moving to their own rooms.
I stayed by the window for a while after the others had gone, listening to the constant low roar of the city below.
Empire Day was over.
Now came the harder part getting out of Coruscant without giving anyone a reason to keep me shackled here.
***
Three days after Empire Day, I sat in the secure office attached to our quarters, going through the accumulated reports and transaction logs.
The days had been busy in the way Coruscant always forced them to be meetings, polite conversations, and carefully worded negotiations that never quite said what they meant.
I scrolled through the final trade summary on my datapad. We had done well.
The refined duranium, Elyrian crystals, and specialty textiles had sold at strong Core prices. After covering docking fees, bribes disguised as "expedited processing," and the cost of a few high-end components we had purchased, the net profit came to just over 2.4 million credits.
Not a fortune by Core standards, but for a backwater governor it was a solid haul. Most of it had already been quietly routed back toward Elyria. A portion had gone into acquiring better medical equipment, advanced processor cores, and a modest stock of refined materials that were hard to source in the Outer Rim as well as some other necessary supplies.
There had also been the quieter purchases. A few crates of high-quality personal items and luxury goods nothing excessive, just enough that I could pretend for a moment that I was allowed to enjoy something.
Like the new bed, pillows and others. I am going to be sleeping like a fucking king, if theres a fire I am dragging that bed with me or I'll die with it.
Theres also some luxurious items of the... liquid variety. I swear on the almighty Morgan Freeman if Torv gets into my stash I will geld him with a plastic fork.
Anyways.
The conversations had been more complicated than the numbers. Most of the people I had spoken with over the last three days had been polite. Some had known my parents and offered genuine, if distant, warmth. Others had been all business trade representatives, minor officials, and a few mid-level officers interested in "future cooperation" with the Outer Rim.
Those talks had been straightforward enough, then there were the others.
Three separate individuals had asked almost the same questions in slightly different ways. One was a trade liaison from the Corellian sector, another claimed to represent a shipping consortium based on Kuat. The third was an aide to a Moff whose name I only half-recognized somewhere in the north east in mid rim.
All of them had circled around the same topics: how quickly Elyria had stabilized, how I had managed to suppress pirate activity so effectively, and whether I might be open to "closer coordination" with certain parties in the Core.
None of them had been overtly hostile.
Which honestly almost made it worse.
Their interest felt measured and calculated. Like they were testing how much I would reveal if given the right amount of polite pressure. I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my eyes.
Not to mention some of the people we did business here with 'politely' keep asking me to delay my departure and stay a few weeks more since more of their premium goods are coming and that we could come to an understanding and such. Honestly it all feels... weird.
Rusty stood near the wall, silent as always, purple photoreceptors dimmed to a low glow while he monitored the local channels.
"Any new attempts to access our systems?" I asked.
"None successful," he replied. "However, passive observation of our group remains elevated. Several individuals have inquired about our departure schedule through secondary channels, some have even escalated to asking our crew and associates directly."
As the funny anime gold horse once said. Umazing.
I nodded slowly.
Three days of smiling, negotiating, and answering careful questions had left me with the clear impression that we had overstayed our welcome. Or rather, that some people preferred we stay longer so they could keep watching.
I closed the datapad and stood up. The more time we spent on Coruscant, the more eyes seemed to settle on us, and its not just the imperials, I swear I seen somewhat of a female ninja type gal in distincitve Hypan clothing and look, not to mention a bothan and others.
The longer I am in this lit up cesspit the more I felt the need to get back to the one place where I still controlled the variables.
Tomorrow, I decided, we would begin final preparations to leave.
Whether certain people liked it or not.
***
3 days later on Coruscant I had already given the order to begin final loading.
The decision to leave early did not go unnoticed.
Several officials who had been polite and measured only days before suddenly became insistent. One mid-level trade representative from a sub dockyard of Corellia arrived unannounced at our quarters with a carefully prepared schedule of additional meetings he claimed would be "mutually beneficial."
To be fair, rejecting hurt me, if I stayed I could easily save around 3.3 million on buying a couple freighters full of materials that would normally cost me like 7 million.
Another, an arrogant aide to a Moff suggested it would be "unfortunate" if I left before certain introductions could be arranged. He was a stuck up bastard that one.
A third simply smiled too widely and said the capital had so much more to offer a rising Outer Rim governor if he only stayed a little longer, his sales pitch was the best out of all of them.
I have to admit the 2 blue skinned Pandoran woman he offered as 'houshold help' while wearing what constituted as fetish bellydancer x maid outfit almost convinced me, especially that busty older dommy mommy type who I swear licked her lips as she saw me.
But Atii said that an urgent matter came for the governor and practically kicked the man out by the scruff of the neck and literally pushed the 2 women out. I got a gauntlet punch into my stomach immediately afterward for no fucking reason either.
Woman, I am perfecting the art of the deal here whats wrong with you.
There were others, they were all just a little too eager and a little too persistent. The pressure never crossed into open threat, but it carried the same heavy-handed quality the kind of insistence that made the back of my neck tighten.
Most of them accepted the refusal with thin smiles and carefully neutral expressions. A few looked openly disappointed. What unsettled me more were the ones who did not try to stop me.
Pellaeon's people the officers and aides who had known my parents or who answered directly to the Grand Admiral simply nodded when I informed them of the early departure. They offered formal farewells, wished me safe travels, and made no attempt to delay the schedule.
Their calm acceptance should have been reassuring. Instead it only sharpened the quiet suspicion already sitting in my chest. If the people I trusted most were willing to let me leave without resistance, it meant either they understood the necessity… or they knew something or suspected something I did not.
I did not like either possibility.
While the final meetings dragged on, the real work continued down at the landing platforms.
Our ships were being loaded under Torv's and Reza's supervision. The cargo bays of the Iron Reaver and the two Acclamators filled steadily with everything we had acquired. Crates of advanced medical equipment. Refined processor cores. Better-grade weapons and armour components. Several sealed containers of high-end droid parts and specialized tools that would be useful once they reached Grok's facilities. There were also the more ordinary supplies rations, spare parts, fuel cells, and construction materials that were difficult to source this far from the Core.
And then MY purchases.
A few sealed crates of luxury goods of the liquid variety along with exotic foodstuffs and spices had been quietly acquired through secondary channels. High-quality personal items like my bed and what constituted as silk bedding and sheets but star warsified, a small stock of refined foods and drinks of the peasant variety so just junk food, not as good as McDonalds but it would do. God I want a McDonalds sprite a thought for later.
There was also a handful of things that would make the long nights on Elyria slightly less gray like the nice painting of Naboo and some small trinkets.
I told myself it was practical for better morale, a small reward for myself, I also bought some other luxuries for the people who had followed a teenage governor into the middle of nowhere.
Internally I could almost hear the sarcasm in my own thoughts.
Luxury goods for the little backwater governor. How ambitious.
I went from looking for a good lightbulb to replace a dead one in my office to buying intergalactic top quality booze and bed.
Fucking glorious.
Rusty coordinated the more sensitive transfers, ensuring nothing that could raise questions was left exposed.
The deactivated battle droids and Vulture droids remained carefully hidden in the lower holds, still officially listed as inert cargo.
By late afternoon the last of the containers had been secured. The Mandalorians moved with quiet efficiency, checking every ramp and seal. Stormtroopers and palace guards formed protective perimeters around the landing pads.
Atii stood near one of the shuttles with Jaster, both of them scanning the surrounding platforms with the same wary focus.
I stood on the upper walkway of the Iron Reaver, looking out over the endless cityscape one last time.
Coruscant glittered under the artificial sunlight, beautiful and oppressive in equal measure.
Honestly, whenever a setting has these huge fuck off cities, in this case a planet. That are used as capital they are portrayed as filthy or dangerous I was surprised. My people went to lower levels and yes crime exists but its not as bad as I thought it would be and its not as filthy. I feared it would be like kingslanding 2.0 but on a planetary scale.
I turned away from the view and gave the final order. "We leave within the hour."
No one argued.
The preparations were complete and messages already sent to the orbital defences about our imminent departure.
It was time to go home.
***
Boarding began in controlled stages, my inner circle moved first, we have all already boarded with Reza being on the ship for hours already.
Around us the rest of the contingent boarded with quiet efficiency. Palace guards took their assigned stations. The additional stormtroopers formed into their sections. Support personnel and the last of the cargo handlers finished securing the remaining containers and checking for any bugs or spyware.
One by one all vessels confirmed readiness.
I stood on the bridge of the Iron Reaver as the final all-clear came through."All ships report ready," Reza said. "Orbital control has cleared us for departure along the designated VIP corridor."
I gave a short nod. "Take us up."
The Iron Reaver lifted first. The massive Gladiator-class cruiser rose from the landing platform with a deep, controlled thrum of engines.
Through the viewport the Diplomatic Spire and the endless tiers of the city fell away beneath us. The two Acclamators followed in tight formation, flanked by the four Kom'rk-class fighters and the protective screen of Z-95 Headhunters and TIEs.
Coruscant's upper atmosphere was a controlled chaos of traffic. Hundreds of thousands of vessels moved along invisible lanes freighters, passenger liners, military craft, private yachts all flowing in carefully regulated streams.
Our small fleet cut through the designated priority corridor, the path cleared ahead of us by traffic control. Even so, the sheer density of the planet-city remained overwhelming.
Towers stretched endlessly in every direction. Skyways and floating platforms formed layered networks of light and movement. The scale never stopped feeling unnatural.
As we climbed higher, the orbital defense grid came into view.
The wall of Imperial warships and orbital stations was even more imposing from this angle. Rows of Star Destroyers hung in precise formation, their dark hulls blotting out sections of the stars. Support vessels and patrol craft moved between them like insects around larger predators.
And then there were the two Executor-class Star Destroyers. One of them passed relatively close as we followed the outbound vector. Even at this distance its size was oppressive.
The ship seemed less like a vessel and more like a floating continent of armour and weapons. Reza kept our course steady. "Defense grid is tracking us, but no challenges so far. We remain on the cleared path."
I watched the massive warships slide past the viewport, feeling the quiet tension settle deeper into my chest. Every sensor in that grid was likely recording our departure. Every officer on those bridges had the authority to stop us if they decided something looked wrong.
Nothing happened thankfully, no cliché last minute "stop in the name of the emperor" type bullshit.
We cleared the outer defence perimeter without incident. The traffic thinned.
The glittering surface of Coruscant began to move away from us, the planet-city slowly becoming a vast and distant glowing sphere instead of an endless wall of light. "Hyperspace coordinates locked," Reza reported. "All ships report ready for jump."
I took one last look at the planet behind us."Execute."
The stars stretched into blue-white lines.
Coruscant vanished.
The familiar tunnel of hyperspace surrounded the fleet, and the long journey home began.
I sigh weeks of travel for like a week to stay on a planet and then going back. At least its better than travelling months on a horse or something.
I remained standing on the bridge for a while longer, hands clasped behind my back, watching the swirling light outside the viewport, I wonder how the story will unfold with me in it in the coming years.
***
The return journey settled into a familiar pattern far too quickly.
Most of my time disappeared into the small ready room attached to the bridge of the Iron Reaver. Reports from the four systems, logistics updates, trade projections, and security assessments stacked up faster than I could clear them.
I worked through them in long, unbroken stretches, barely leaving the room except to sleep a few hours at a time. The constant blue-white tunnel of hyperspace outside the viewport became background noise.I had half-expected someone to drag me out of it.
Atii, maybe. Or Jaster with some dry remark about governors who forgot how to walk. Even Torv might have pulled me into a sparring session just to keep me from growing soft.
Instead, the days passed with only the occasional quiet check-in. It almost felt like they had collectively decided to let me bury myself in the work.
Fine, I thought more than once.
Suffer in silence it is.
Few days after the journey began an encrypted priority channel opened without warning.
Grok's tall figure appeared above the holotable, crimson photoreceptors steady as always."Governor," he began without preamble. "There has been an incident."
Oh for fuck sake.
I set the datapad down and gave him my full attention. "A medium-sized pirate fleet was encountered during an exploratory probe into the Unknown Regions," Grok continued.
"Engagement was brief but intense. Our forces inflicted significant damage and forced the remaining vessels to withdraw, we have since then tracked them down and eliminated all of them to mitigate the risk of exposure of our operations. Losses on our side were minor primarily damaged scout units and one specialized recovery craft along with vultures and hyana bombers and a slew of B1 and couple B2 droids lost during boarding actions."
He paused for a fraction of a second."However, one enemy light cruiser suffered catastrophic structural failure during the engagement and collided with the bridge of a Munificent-class star frigate under our control. The Munificent has been rendered non-operational. Preliminary assessment indicates the vessel will require extensive repairs or full decommissioning."
I leaned back in the chair and let out a slow breath. Of course.
A perfectly serviceable capital ship taken out by a dying pirate cruiser falling on top of it. The universe had a sense of humour. "Loses?" I asked.
"Minimal. Most personnel were evacuated in time. The ship itself and its military equipment is the primary loss."
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Focus production on scout droids and long-range scout ships. I want them pushed out as far as five systems beyond every known vector into the Unknown Regions. Priority on early detection. If there are more of those pirate groups operating out there, I want to know before they know about us."
"Understood. Orders will be implemented immediately."Grok's image remained for a moment longer, then the holo faded.
I sat in the quiet of the ready room, staring at the empty space where the projection had been. One Munificent down. Minor losses overall.
I picked up the next datapad and went back to work, there was still a long way to go before we reached Elyria and I had the growing sense that the quiet we had left behind might not still be waiting for us when we returned.
I hope my paranoia is wrong.
Sigh.
It probably fucking isint.
I pulled up the latest encrypted reports from home.
Harlan's summaries came first logistics, supply chains, the usual administrative noise. Elara's updates followed, focused on native relations and local security. Then the three governors' reports from Veyra, Korrin Reach, and the Nimura Drift.
On the surface everything looked stable, factories were running. Patrols were maintaining their schedules and migrant intake continued at the controlled rate we had set.
But the deeper I read, the more the silence stood out.
No trade ships had entered the four systems in over a week, not a single independent freighter. Not even the usual small-time operators who normally drifted through looking for quick profits. More concerning was the complete absence of the other kind of traffic. No pirate scouts. No slaver ships testing the borders. Not so much as a whisper of the usual opportunistic trash that always lingered around the edges of our territory.
The borders they knew about, at least.
I leaned back in the chair and stared at the compiled sensor logs. The patrol nets were clear. Too clear.
After months of steady, if low-level, activity, the sudden emptiness felt wrong.
Pirates and slavers did not simply vanish out of respect. Something had pushed them back or something had made the area too dangerous for even them to risk or even something else entirely.
The memory of Coruscant settled heavier in my chest. The polite insistence that I stay longer. The carefully worded meetings that never quite said what they meant. The sense that too many people had been watching how I reacted.
I opened a secure channel to Jaster and Torv.
Both of their holos appeared a moment later. "I need you to start looking for reliable mercenary contacts," I said without preamble. "Not the usual gutter trash. Reputation comes first, people who actually stay bought and know how to keep their mouths shut. I want options ready by the time we reach Elyria."
Jaster's expression didn't change, but I saw the slight shift in his posture. "Understood. I'll reach out through the quieter channels."
Torv gave a short nod. "I'll start checking the black-market information networks. Anything on Elyria, the wider subsector, us specifically, or the surrounding systems."
"Do it carefully," I said. "No unnecessary noise. If someone is already probing us, I don't want them knowing we're looking back."
Both acknowledged the order and the channel closed. I sat alone in the ready room for a long moment afterward, the soft blue light of the holotable casting long shadows across the walls.
The silence from home was louder than any attack would have been and the more I thought about the people who had tried to keep me on Coruscant, the less I liked the shape of what might be waiting when we returned.
I closed the reports and stood up.
There was still work to do before we reached Elyria and I had the growing feeling that we were already running behind.
***
I finished the last of the priority reports sometime after the ship's night cycle had fully settled in.
The ready room was quiet except for the low hum of the Iron Reaver's systems and the soft blue glow of the holotable. I leaned back in the chair, staring at the empty projection space, and let out a long breath.
The silence from the borders, the pressure on Coruscant, the damaged Munificent. The feeling that something was already moving against us while I was still days away from home.
I needed options. Real ones, for now and future.
My mind started turning over everything I could remember every half-forgotten detail from stories, games, books, and holovids that might actually be useful in this galaxy instead of just entertaining.
Old clone networks that never fully disbanded. There had to be aging veterans still out there who remembered how to fight and might prefer working for someone who didn't treat them like expired equipment.
Remaining Separatist holdouts or hidden factories that the Empire had never properly cleaned up.
Mandalorian clans that had gone to ground after the Purge and might still be willing to deal if approached carefully.
Black Sun and the smaller syndicates dangerous, but sometimes useful if you paid well and kept your distance.
Thrawn's future knowledge of the Unknown Regions and the threats waiting out there.
Ancient ruins or forgotten caches that predated both the Republic and the Empire like the Katana fleet or even the technology from the Eternal Empire on Zakuul and other long forgotten empires and peoples.
Superior ship designs that the Empire had ignored or abandoned in favor of their own inefficient doctrine. Deep-space shipyards or supply caches left over from the Clone Wars and beyond.
Force-sensitive individuals who had never been Jedi or Sith and might prefer staying far away from both but that plan is risky, and I am not really willing to shelter the enemies of the state, even finding them and giving them up would bring attention I do not need nor want.
Corporate Sector resources and the kind of quiet industrial capacity that could be leveraged if you knew the right pressure points. Hutt Space and the complicated web of debts and favors that always surrounded it.
Interdictor technology and the way it could lock down an entire system if used correctly, cloaking devices and genuine stealth systems that the Empire still treated as rare and unreliable.
I kept going, turning each idea over, discarding the ones that were too risky or too far in the future or outright impossible like going to center point station, marking others as worth investigating later like the star forge.
After a while I opened a private recording file and began speaking the list aloud — not in Galactic Basic, but in English. The old language from before. Even if someone managed to slice the file, the words would mean nothing to them and without it being written down theres less chance of it being translated I hope.
I spoke until my voice started to feel rough, laying out every half-formed plan and long-shot possibility I could remember. When I finally stopped, the recording sat there in the system like a quiet contingency.
I shut the file, locked it under a personal encryption key not even Rusty or Grok having access to it, and leaned back again.
None of it was a complete solution. Most of it was still just theory and memory. But it was better than sitting in the dark waiting for the next problem to arrive.
I stared at the swirling blue of hyperspace beyond the viewport for a long moment, then stood up and stretched the stiffness out of my shoulders. Its not long till we arrive in Elyria.
***
The final day of the journey settled over the Iron Reaver with the usual quiet tension of approaching realspace.
I stood alone in the ready room, reviewing the last set of reports while the blue tunnel of hyperspace continued its endless swirl beyond the viewport. Outwardly nothing had changed. I kept the same steady posture, the same measured expression I always wore when there was work to be done.
Inside, the dread sat heavier with every passing hour with anxiety and fear spiking up.
Something was wrong back home I can feel it.
And now, as if the universe wanted to make sure I didn't forget the smaller problems, a fresh report had just come in from Elyria. The old generator we had bought from less-than-reputable sources almost a year ago had finally given out. Completely.
According to the technicians it had suffered a catastrophic failure and taken a significant portion of the surrounding infrastructure with it. Even with the brand-new generator we had purchased on Coruscant, it would still take the better part of half a day just to clear the wreckage and get the replacement installed once we landed.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled slowly.
Of course.
A few more hours and we would drop out of hyperspace. Then the real work would begin cleaning up the generator mess, sorting through whatever had caused the unnatural quiet across the four systems, and dealing with whatever had been waiting for us while we were gone.
I was still staring at the latest damage assessment when a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
"Kael."
I looked up.
Atii stood in the doorway, still in her training gear. A towel hung loosely over her shoulders, and her brown hair was tied back, a few strands sticking to her neck from the recent sparring session. She looked like she had just finished drilling with the other Mandalorians.
She raised an eyebrow. "You coming for a spar or are you planning to glue yourself to that chair until we land?"
I felt a small smirk tug at the corner of my mouth despite everything.
"I'm coming," I said, setting the datapad down. "Might as well occupy my mind for the few hours we have left."
Atii gave a short nod, already turning to lead the way toward the training bay.
I followed her out of the ready room, the quiet dread still sitting in my chest, but for the moment at least there was something immediate to focus on.
Home was only a few hours away.
And whatever was waiting for us there, we would face it soon enough.