Governor's Gambit - Star Wars SI into Imperial Governor

Omake: From Top of the Cup to the Bottom of the Barrel

POV: Tak Gwut
RIII: Guardian
Certifications: Negotiator III, Infiltrator II, Adviser II
Head of Administration of the Mynock Pailers, a RI: Conclave Mercenary Company,
Mynock Pailers HQ balcony, Dewback Diggers Mining Settlement, Minda-4, Minda system, 1ABY

Tak gazed out across the semi arid desert that surrounded the plateau. The rings of Minda-4 dominating the night sky. The planet might be "The Abafar of the Minda system", but at least the view was amazing. Really put into perspective how far the two of them had come. From a pair of strangers with good chemistry chasing down petty pickpockets, to leaders of their own proper mercenary company!

Well "proper" might be stretching things a bit. They were barely two months in from beginning to expand their ranks. All the individuals jobs they pulled off finally made a big enough pile of credits to make something bigger than her and Garik. With Garik having saved up more between the two of them.

"Hey. I thought I would find you here."

Tak turned and gave a nod to the newly minted Head of Personnel. When the two had founded the Mynock Pailers, they had agreed Garik would handle physical training and tactical matters, while she would handle blaster training and strategic issues. The chevron he got to put on his power armor and the plaque he put in front of his office left him beaming for weeks.

"Was I that obvious? Blaster training out in the desert took longer than I expected. We barely made it back before the bridge retracted for the night. Mab Tyedor, that Aleena we recruited in the first round, ran ahead of us and got them to hold the bridge."

Over a dozen blasters going off for hours on end wasn't welcome in a settlement as small as this. So the Pailers had their range time a bit out into the desert where they wouldn't bother anyone. Fortunately they and it in time. She didn't fancy their chances scaling the cliffs in the dead of night after her troops wore themselves out training. Much less trying to organize an impromptu rotating guard watch.

Minda-4 was pretty barren and unsettled. To the point you could go for hours and not see a single sign of civilization. However the outskirts of settlements were infested with plenty of pests that had stowed away on passing freighters. Critters that would love to take a nibble on a someone sleeping out in the open. Tak thought she saw a mean looking womp rat stalking their party on their way back.

The reason training took so long was because her people couldn't shoot straight. Her recruits were just so bad at aiming. Ok not bad, just really green. Was she ever that bad at shooting a blaster? Probably. It feels so long ago when she fired her first blaster.

"I saw the scores. Don't hold it against them. They didn't come to Minda-4 looking to be mercenaries. Mining may toughen you up, but it doesn't do anything for your aim."

Tak knew joining the Pailers wasn't any of her recruits' first choice. She didn't blame them for that. Even then it still hurt to hear it said out loud that they were the backup plan of the backup plan. Most people arrive on Minda-4 to work in small mining operations run by companies that were either too small or poor to afford the starships or higher end mining equipment needed to work in richer places like Ugea, Minda-1, or the asteroids.

Dewback Diggers Mining Company only had about 700 permanent residents in their mining settlement. That might not sound like much on most worlds, but for a planet as barren as Minda-4 that made it the biggest town in the region. The place was a product of the pension of some elderly and unremarkable Imperial Army veteran who never hooked up, but still wanted to leave a legacy. Even the local Guild office was just one sentient and some low end droids in a back room.

"Desperation does not equal competence, I get it. Still wish they could hit the broad side of an AT-AT. We can't have our company made up of entirely melee troops. No matter how happy that would make you."

As a result of being the "big town" in the region, this made it the place to go whenever yet another operation or company went bust. Recently unemployed miners and workers would inevitably congregate to this settlement. Either to look for work in another mine or book a passage off planet with one of the freighters or ore haulers coming to clear out the planet's built up stockpiles.

In other words, a perfect recruiting ground for a mercenary company with next to no reputation. The Old Vet that runs this place welcomed their recruitment efforts with open arms. Probably due to feeling safer with people standing around with blasters gainfully employed and guarding things rather than standing around with blasters unemployed and getting desperate.

This region hadn't even been settled long enough for proper bandit clans to find their feet and begin picking off or picking up folks yet. Still the occasional lunatic or outlaw in the outskirts. However, without a proper set up to keep fed and watered they died out too quick for someone to post a bounty. The most violence you would get paid for is hunting critters that developed a taste for sentients.

"Cheer up Tak. You got us a great deal on this HQ and secured our very first long term contract for the Mynock Pailers. You're doing great."

That at least brought up Tak's mood. The Old Vet had expanded too fast. He had neglected to form a robust security division, unconsciously assuming his miners were like his old soldiers and could take care of themselves. Ignoring the fact most civilians tended to panic when blasters get pulled out. That let Tak negotiate a great deal on this building, a fairly generous security contract for the rest of the year, and a good discount at the Diggers General Store.

"Now if only I could give them more than mining gear and sporting blasters. Shame Diggers was so stingy with the blaststicks."

The "standard uniform" for a Mynock Pailer these days was a CT Helmet and CV Vest, same as the miners got. Some of the recruits even brought their own from their old jobs as part of their "severance package". They had to paint it in the Pailers' colors so they wouldn't get mistaken for a worker.

At least the Old Vet thought enough ahead to get a relatively sizable stock of blasters to be issued to his mining crews in case of griblies or pirates. Unfortunately they were SKZs, which were decent for unarmored opponents, but failed at penetrating like a military model. As a silver lining they were easy to use, easy to maintain, and good for training.

"They'll get better, just you watch. Soon we'll be shooting off in the M.P. Hurt Wagon to parts unknown to blast things."

She really shouldn't have let Garik name their ship, but she couldn't say no to those pup eyes. It still felt nice to think that they had their own ship now. The BR-23 courier they had gotten for cheap could fit over a dozen people semi-comfortably, rather than the cramped 40 the standard was. Although the Wagon is still a bit under gunned, so they had to stick to well patrolled routes to avoid getting blasted.

"Currently all our company is good for is patrolling empty streets and breaking up bar fights. I'd settle for some hunting contracts for the beasts prowling about. Give the chance to blood the recruits on someone non-sentient."

We would be using the sporting blasters for their intended purpose so the equipment will be sufficient for the task. The recruits could be introduced to combat in a tamer form. She doesn't want to coddle them, but it is probably be better than having their first life and death battle be against other people.

Would need to cover a lot of ground area, which means dedicated land transport. Companies going bust also means equipment and vehicles should be available. Wasn't there a Skrilling with a FMR-385 cargo speeder for sale over on the east side?

"There's the Mynock Pailers' star administrator! Give it some time and you'll have those mining settlements eating out of the palm of your hands. Now come on down, the recruits are playing Sabacc and I want you to see you clean them out of their paychecks."

Garik always knew how to get Tak out of her funks. Getting her to focus on the progress they could make rather than the obstacles in front of them. She said the two of them would be climbing the Guild ladder, and by the void they are on their way.

"Alright let's thrash these rookies so hard it gets me banned from game night!"

Look out galaxy, the Head of Administration of the Mynock Pailers is coming! First Minda-4, then the whole Minda system!

——
A potential look at the rarely talked about fourth planet in the Minda system. Only really noted for its mining operations and being a barren desert, but at least it has rings. Not really that fitting for the large er… medium scale Las is working with these days.

Figured the planet was as good a setting as any to continue the Garik and Tak storyline. The more things change, the more things stay the same. At least Tak and Garik have a posse instead of a duo to patrol this here frontier town.

Crossposted on SB and SV

Omake: The Guild 650 Starflier

Production Information

Manufacturer: Guild of Commerce, Production and Protection

Model: Guild 650 Starflier Civilian Shuttle

Type:
Official: Shuttle
Unofficial: "Shuttle"

Cost:
85,000 Credits new
120,000 Credits with "Fighting Star" modification package

——

Technical Specifications

Maximum Atmospheric Speed:
New: 750 km/h
"Fighting Star": 900 km/h

Engine unit(s):
New: one off the shelf ion drive
"Fighting Star": one R303 Ion Jet Engine and additional maneuver thrusters

Hyperdrive:
New: None
"Fighting Star": yes, often a Avatar-10 Class 2 Hyperdrive

Shielding:
New: None
"Fighting Star": mediocre deflector shield generator

Power: fusion reactor

Hull: titanium hull

Sensors: short range sensors

Armament: 3 front facing weapon mounts
New: 2 light laser cannons
"Fighting Star": 2 medium laser cannons and 1 medium ion cannon

Crew: 1 (pilot)

Cargo Capacity: 25 tons. 24.7 tons OCCL rated. 24.5 tons used in the standard "Fighting Star" modification package.

Life Support: Equipped

Consumables: 3 days standard

Other Systems:

"Fighting Star" modifications:

Chaff Dispenser
Reinforced Cockpit

Other common modifications:

Space Mine Layer
Dumb Fire Bomb Bay
Wing Mounted Missile Racks
Rear Manned Turret
Tug Rated Tractor Beam

——

Usage

Availability:

• Civilian issue

Role:

• Short distance cargo shuttle
• Easy to legally own small starship that just so happens to be passable at fighting in the stars.

Affiliation:

• The Guild
• Mercenaries
• Private Citizens
• Independent Groups
• Merchant Companies

——

Description

"What's that one?"
"That's a 650 Starflier. The Guild came out with it last year."
"Really, because it feels like I have seen it before decades ago." - a pair of shipwatchers seeing a Starflier for the first time.

If there were two words that could be used to describe the 650 Starflier it would be "generic" and "workable". Developed by the Guild after the Battle of Yavin, this shuttle quietly slipped past Imperial regulators with minimal fanfare or inspection. A decision the initial review board might be kicking themselves for to this very day.

The 650 Starflier enjoys a robust aftermarket of modifications catered to by owners, part companies, and the Guild itself. The wide array of customization appeals to citizens and Guild members alike who enjoy tailoring their personal vehicles to their own preferences.

Design

"So you took an ATT, stripped off the skirt, then slapped a pair of wings and an ion drive on the back. Congratulations I hate it." - Imperial Procurement Officer upon receiving the design from the Guild marketing department.

The design philosophy for the 650 Starflier followed the maxims of simplicity and ease of manufacture. The main body was given a diagonal teardrop shape with two wings on the jutting out from the top back along with the Starflier's single ion drive.

For armaments the Starflier has three front facing weapon mounts. Two on the sides and one near the chin on the bottom. This is despite the production model only coming the two light laser cannons.

What the 650 Starflier lacks in outward charm, it more than makes up for in "useful" storage space. The ship's Open Concept Component Layout allows for ease of installation of new systems and upgrading old ones into a ship capable of jumping to hyperspace and defending itself against other small ships.

The process is so easy that some theorize that the 650 Starflier is initially manufactured with components like a hyperdrive, shield generator, and other combat oriented components already installed. The components were then removed in order to meet the legal requirements for the shuttle designation. The Guild strenuously denies these claims, although never strenuously enough to sue and be forced to offer proof in court.

Manufactured primarily from generic, off brand, and off the shelf parts, the Starflier enjoyed very little maintenance and repair difficulties. One could easily fix most of the issues and damages in the unmodified Starflier ended up with at a Limited Services Level Spaceport at minimum. With anything more serious being able to be done at a Standard Class starport or better. A Starflier could theoretically operate away from urbanized planets for extended periods of time as long as supplies and maintenance remained plentiful and frequent.

Performance

"Listen buddy, you don't buy Starfliers because they are the best thing on the market. You buy Starfliers because you can purchase them legally and quickly without getting an Imperial Inspector breathing down your neck." - Head of Procurement for a Guild Merchant Company when asked why he just put in an order for two dozen Starfliers.

The 650 Starflier is publicized as a cheap and reliable shuttle for the general consumer. In this respect it checked all the boxes. However, the Starflier had to compete with hundreds of other designs that promise the exact same thing. Some having far larger ship building corporations backing them. So it was never going to become a well known name for its marketed purpose.

It was seen as inevitable that the 650 Starflier would become known for its modified variants over the production model. Performance wise, the Starflier "Fighting Star" and other combat oriented variants were rated as a lesser midpoint between the TIE and the X-wing. The ship failed to equal or sometimes even compete with either in their respective strengths. This was especially the case when it came to speed, arguably the Starflier's poorest performing quality, due to limited space for engines. Choosing to focus on not using military grade components and modularity led to a ship that was overall mediocre to below average in combat for its size when compared with most modern military models.

Efforts were made by users and modifiers to give the 650 Starflier an edge. The "Fighting Star" came with what some would consider an excessive amount of maneuvering thrusters as well as extra padding and safety features in the cockpit. This allowed the Starflier to be surprisingly agile and maneuverable despite what its relatively bulky appearance would suggest. However few could deny that instead of sinking money into making the Starflier the best in the battlefield, it was cheaper and easier to just buy a dedicated combat starship.

This report suited the makers of the 650 Starflier just fine. The ship was never intended to be the best ship in a battlefield. Any well-maintained military grade ship with a competent pilot was expected to beat the 650 Starflier one on one. Rather the designers were aiming to be the ship that was the comparatively easiest to acquire and maintain at a high condition.

The favored mission the 650 Starflier combat variants were designed to go up against was fighting Uglies and other poorly maintained or jury rigged pirate ships attempting to raid convoys or fixed installations. The hope was the Starflier's ability to almost always operate at its best would be its main advantage against raiders who lacked the ability to keep their ships in good shape and thus suffer performance issues. The ship may run into problems with the "elite" forces of larger and more powerful criminal syndicates with their own supply lines, but for the more common pirate the design theory was deemed sound enough for production.

Reception

"Sir I assure you we only sell system shuttles at this location. Now on an unrelated note if you scroll to the next page of our catalog you will find a very nice deal on some Hyperdrives that just came in last month." - Guild starship salesperson when asked about the 650 Starflier's capabilities.

When the 650 Starflier came on the market it was met with mild interest from the Myto Sector. The Imperial Military was completely turned off by the design. Large companies already had procurement contracts with large starship companies. The OCCL was seen as novel, but nothing to change direction over.

Where the 650 Starflier found its niche was in the smaller players in the sector. Low ranking Guild mercenaries found the Starflier to be an affordable and low maintenance starter option for taking their operations into offworld. The cost, ease of installing upgrades, and proximity to the main production facilities meant there was always a demand floor for Starfliers by the more combat focused groups in Guild space.

Merchant companies appreciated the 650 Starflier for the versatility it gave their shipping convoys. On more peaceful routes they could assist with the transferring of cargo. While on more dangerous routes they could be easily militarized to provide security. Plenty of convoys could be seen sporting small swarms of "shuttle wings" around the Myto sector. For smaller budget minded companies, one ship that could perform two different jobs well enough was seen as preferable to investing in separate specialized ships.

Imperial Inspectors came to hate the 650 Starflier. The shuttle designation and straddling the line between transport and combat ship aggravated many an Inspector. They would arrive at a hanger expecting to find a plethora of combat ships, only for a tip off to result in them getting chewed by the superior after wasting time harassing "some harmless lightly armed shuttles".

Imperial Governors and the Imperial military generally ignored the 650 Starflier. The design was unappealing and its performance was seen as an ineffectual compromise when compared to their TIEs. Faith in the current laws and regulations against owning heavy starship armaments and military sublight engines assuaged most worries of the Starflier becoming a threat to their forces.

Conclusion

The 650 Starflier is not a ship with flare. It is not trying to impress anyone in any sense or metric. No one with more than a dozen hours behind a cockpit is going to be excited to fly a Starflier. However, they will be able to work with the Starflier in almost any reasonable circumstance or mission profile.

Because the Starflier is designed to be a workhorse of any spacefaring organization. It is a draft animal that occasionally has a saddle thrown on its back and ridden into battle. It will try its best at what people are trying to get it to do whether that is being a transport shuttle, a courier, a tug, a convoy escort, or even a bomber. The Starflier is a ship designed for potential that gives people a chance to attempt almost anything with it and have the possibility of succeeding.

——

This time on Guild Legal Definition Dodging: the 650 Starflier. Aftermarket Upgrade Incarnate while still keeping it to legally acquirable parts for civilians. Something that is definitely a shuttle, and not that other "s-word" that would lead to a lot more legal trouble for the manufacturers and paperwork and costs for the owners. Just a regular ship with no legally questionable collective incentives to lie about or obfuscate its capabilities.

The design was basically ripped wholesale from the CTE 750 AE Civilian Starflier, the beginner ship from the 2003 Sci-fi game Freelancer. Found an old playthrough on YouTube and loved the minimalist design. Figured the design would work as a grunt ship for the Guild given its quasi-civilian nature and decentralized command structure. A few dozen systems under a faction's influence is enough to warrant a signature ship in my opinion.

Crossposted on SB and SV

Chp-76

It turned out to be that Garps fashion show was on Dubrillion just a day before the next Guild meeting. It was even in the same city!

Honestly, the fact that he got into a show in Dubrillion's capital city, and so close to the Imperial Center as well is quite impressive

It was also convenient, considering the meeting. Which I wasn't looking forward to at all.

The original plan was to have a meeting 3 times a year, every 4 months. With extra meetings being called in case of some sort of dispute, major problem, or other potential considerations.

Of course, the Rebels Mid-Rim Offensive was one such problem. It hadn't spread out here, and likely wouldn't. However, many of the Myto sectors out of sector business connections were in the Mid-Rim, or used Mid-Rim trade routes, so the Guild was convening to discuss policy and the like.

Regardless, I pushed those thoughts from my mind. That was tomorrow's business. Tonight, I had a show to watch.

The venue was surprisingly packed. Not only were there news crews, but many members of the sector's high society were there. I recognized a great many, from Governors to business magnates alike.

Seems Garp had gotten quite the chance. I'd known about his fashion gigs for a while, as he seemed to be at a show just about every weekend.

Still, to manage a spot out here? It was impressive.

I took a sip of my drink, a sweet, fizzy thing the server had ensured me was non-alcoholic. I didn't really like getting drunk. I lacked control over my mind and body.

And, to be frank, back on Earth the one time I got drunk I drove my car into the mayor's pool, then puked on his shoes.

Suffice to say, booze wasn't for me.

And neither were fizzy drinks, but I had to drink something, else I'd look weird. It also let me look like I was doing something without actually doing something. So, I took another sip of this strange concoction that I just knew I would be drowning out with some coco, and took a hard look around.

Garp said he'd meet me during the opening party, before the show started, but I'd yet to see him. And he was nothing if not punctual.

Taking a look around, I spotted what I thought was him, but was simply another Muun. In fact, there were several Muuns.

Interesting. Garp was for all intents and purposes one of the only Muuns in the sector. Aside from the larger group I hired to work in the financial analysis team on Clok, that is.

Taking a closer look, I see Garp among the group, chatting with the other Muuns. Making my way over to them, their conversation grows louder.

"...fail to see the economic opportunity in this endeavor." I catch the tail end of a particularly tall Muuns sentence as I enter auditory range. Catching Garps gaze, I see what I can only guess is relief flash across his eyes.

"Ah, Governor. So glad to see you here, please, meet my family." He says, confirming that it was indeed relief that he was feeling.

I'm getting better at this 'reading people' thing. Quite proud of myself.

Shaking his hand, I turn towards the group, taking a quick scan. There are four of them, all at least a head taller than me, with pale skin and a surprisingly simple dress. Their outfits consisted mostly of whites, blacks and greys, with simple designs and patterns.

It's quite the contrast to Garps own outfit, which is his own take on Mindan Industrial Formal wear, the gas mask stuff. He's wearing slim black trousers covered in patches of thin protective armor sheets. Tall engineering boots polished to a shine come up to his ankles, and a thin metallic high collar coat is clasped around his shoulders. A ceramic mask hangs around his neck like a necklace, while thinly armored fingerless gloves adorn his hands.

Suffice to say, he looks damn good.

Still, I identify the supposed leader of the group of Muun in an instant. The tallest among them is already stepping forward, attempting to take charge of the situation. So, I preempt him by holding out my hand for a greeting.

"Hello there, I'm Governor Las Mola. Pleased to meet you."

"I am Doksleathus Hath, father of Garpastealap Hath." The tall Muun said as I mentally slot him in as 'Dok'. "You are the Governor of the Minda system, yes? From which the Myto sectors Guild emerged?"

"That's correct. The Guild started in the Minda and Edin systems, and spread from there."

He hummed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "It is quite similar to the initial rise of the Corporate sector, is it not?"

I'll be the first to admit, I squealed a little on the inside. Do you know how many people talk to me about economics? No one!

"Oh in some respects certainly. However, the Guild has been built with specific protections in place to ensure that mega corporations don't gain as much power. Giants like the Trade Federation are examples of how such entities can wreak havoc on local economies. After all, I don't want to end up like the Ferros Sector did under the Federation."

His eyes widened back up again. "The Ferros Disaster. I've lectured on that topic. A prime example of monopolistic failure."

My grin widens. "Exactly! That's why the Guild focuses on smaller companies and diversifying opportunities. Sure, there can be efficiency problems, but it's worth it for the stability."

This conversation continued for some time, of which we had plenty. I had arrived early with Garp, after all.

It was some of the most fun I've had since finding myself in this universe. Which seems somewhat concerning now that I think about it.

"Ah, but shipping is getting quite expensive, now isn't it. Security companies are charging premiums far above the norm. It's been hurting my company." Said Lisadratacal Hath, or Lisa, Garps sister.

She was apparently CEO of a fairly successful logistics company in the Obtrexta sector, which was a nice surprise. I was thinking about contracting her to streamline logistics for some computer parts needed by the shipyards. However, it seemed she'd run into trouble.

Her mother, Yaranampali Hath, hummed in agreement. "Yes, I've noticed as well. Its getting harder and harder to affordably ship medicine outside the sector." Ah, yes, the mother. CEO of a major Pharma company.

"It's the rebels causing all this grief. Security companies insist they are under more danger from rebel forces, even out here." Grumbled Dok, who himself is also a CEO, this time of a conglomerate that encompasses many things.

Suffice to say, Garps family is full of fucking monsters. And I'm having the time of my life.

"I'm actually planning to run some risk-guaranteed contracts with some security companies soon. They charge their regular rates, and in 10 months if the average premium rates haven't dropped for other companies due to the risk dropping, I pay them the difference."

"And if it does drop, you get away with 10 months of cheaper security. Quite the gamble, isn't it." Replies Dok, sipping at his glass.

I smile. "True, subsidizing these contracts for merchants and sec-companies does have a risk, but I tell you what. This conflict won't last 10 months. I bet it won't last 5."

And it wouldn't. While the Alliance started their Mid-Rim Offensive stronger than I thought, they were making the same mistakes. They were trying to fight the Empire on even ground when they were nowhere near even. In canon the Offensive started in 1ABY, and ended in 3ABY. However, by the end of 1ABY it was no longer called an Offensive.

It was called a retreat.

Which meant that in around 5-6 months, the Alliance would be on the backfoot, more likely to lose territory than gain it. The threat would diminish, and security companies would start reducing premiums.

It was a guaranteed win.

At this, Lisa started to say something, but was interrupted by the lights going dim. The stage and walkway started to glow with embedded lights as the announcer came on stage to speak his piece.

After a little bit of talking and some bad jokes that people laughed at out of courtesy, the show properly began.

The first few pieces were, suffice to say, boring. They were clearly made to cater to the Imperial sense of taste and aesthetics, featuring mostly whites, greys and blacks. Many in fact looked like modified versions of various Imperial uniforms.

It took a while for the outfits to start getting interesting, with more color being introduced, alongside actually unique designs.

Like a trench coat hand woven with very thick threads, near as thick as my finger. Not particularly interesting, but a nice break from the monotony.

Then came Garps piece. Now, they weren't announcing whose piece was whose. But when a human woman stepped out onto the walkway wearing a dress made of interlinked, chainmail style equilateral triangles, I knew it was Garps.

Partially because it was the best one yet, and partially because it was very reminiscent of the Tula style of battle dress. The main difference being that these triangles didn't stay one color. Slowly but surely, they shifted colors. Like a chameleon but in such a way that, if one wasn't looking for it, they wouldn't notice until an hour had passed and they were wearing a very different looking dress.

After this came only the bangers. Like Garps business suits, which featured metal linings that shimmered in the air. Or a full suit of power armor that was incredibly lithe, looking more fit for a ballroom than a battlefield.

Suffice to say, the crowd seemed to love it. Every time one of Garps pieces came on stage, people seemed enamored. Well, enamored in that way rich people are, where instead of cheering they just whisper loudly to each other.

By the end of the show, it was clear whose pieces had taken the cake. And it seemed everyone and their grandma wanted to meet the designer.

The looks on their faces when they realized the designer wasn't human was an incredible feeling, honestly. It was as if they'd sucked on a lemon then got punched in the gut. Watching some of these nobles practically grind their teeth into dust complimenting his work was hilarious.

Regardless, I leave the show with Garp in tow, making way towards our hotel by shuttle. While flying, we talk about the night.

"You sure enjoyed speaking with my family, Governor." He remarked.

I grin. "Of course! They speak my language, how couldn't I?"

"Better you than me, sir."

"Family troubles?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Same."

We both let out simultaneous sighs of familial exhaustion. Locking eyes, neither one of us can stop ourselves from letting out some pretty damn childish giggles.

And honestly? I didn't want to stop. It was likely the last bit of happiness I'd be getting all week. After all, I had the most dreaded thing the next day.

A meeting.

-

Did not write this eating peach cobbler, unfortunately. I did write this instead of my school essay, so there's that. Take solace that I'm sacrificing my education for the entertainment of strangers on the internet.

Truly, we live in the strangest timeline.

P.s: I made up the whole Ferros thing. Sectors real, economic disaster isn't.

-Freefaller

Omake! Crossposting this from SB; a contribution to the Minda-2 uplift program, in two parts. Seemed to me that the Guild was already set up to take newbie workers and help them turn themselves into professional economic contributors, so why would Las or Darna go reinventing the wheel?

------

Omake: The Working Vern's Road to Space

Kor
Erylon, capital city of the Fulcrum Dynasty
Minda System, Minda-2

"Emm-pie-yerr…"

Kor wanted to go into space.

It had always been a dream of his. Ever since he'd been a boy, there had been nights where he looked up at the stars and dreamed of flying among them, free as the proverbial bird. For most people, the dream was about the flying, and they aimed towards becoming lufsk riders, or at least getting a lufsk rider to give them a lift so they could experience it once, but for Kor it had always been about the stars. Wondering about what marvels might be out there.

But of course, it had never been anything more than a daydream. Everyone knew that there was the ground down here, and the heavens up there, and the twixt would never become twain, and a man had to be practical if he wanted to eat. And so Kor had knuckled down, worked hard, and earned a decent wage for a decent day's work. He'd been saving up money, looking to find a girl worth marrying, and preparing to follow a solid and steady course into the future.

"Fuh-leet… kraz. Fff-leet. Fleet."

And then the Imperials had come. And, holy zoon, aliens! Real aliens! And real spaceships! And, you know, space! People could go to space! People could come back from space! Alive, even! You could go to space!

He could go to space! Him! Little ol' Kor could go to SPACE!!!

And sure, it was definitely kind of weird to think that their rulers weren't, you know, at the very tippy-top anymore, but meh. Kor hadn't been high nobility or anything, just lucky enough to live in the capital and earn a decent wage for a decent day's work, and from where he was sitting? Nothing much had changed on a day-to-day basis. The Imperials had built a few schools to teach the children their numbers, that alien "Basic" language and how to use their foreign tools, but the markets still had the same produce and tools and gewgaws at mostly the same prices, and the soldiers on the streets were still wearing Dynasty colors and not that Imperial black-and-white. The vern at the top might be chafing, but down here in the streets life went on.

"Guh-verr-norr."

Kor could have kept doing what he'd been doing. Kept living in the capital, kept earning a decent wage for a decent day's work.

But Kor wanted to go into space.

Kor wanted to go into space so bad.

Which was where the Guild came in.

"Hyy-perr-speiss."

See, there were basically three ways to get a ride on a spaceship right now: be rich and/or connected, sign up at one of those Imperial recruiting stations, or join up with some different outfit that had access to a spaceship. That sort of money was beyond Kor at the moment, and he was… leery about signing on for who knows how long with their new lords and masters. Especially since you'd have to go through a whole lot of training anyway, and who knew how much it'd pay.

But the Guild…

There'd been these flyers, see. Not that he'd been able to read them, him not being all lettered and such, but he'd taken one of them to Jevvo who he knew could read it, and Jevvo had read it to him, and then they'd both ran over to the Guild building and signed up, because that offer? It sounded pretty good.

"Imm-pee-ree-yull."

Do the studies. Five classes - that alien Basic language (including reading and writing! How about that), numbers and sums, how the Empire works, the basics of your chosen field (mining, trading or merc'ing), and one of those specializations in your field. And if you pass all your courses, you're in. You get a card, a bank account (him! Kor! With a bank account! How hoity-toity was that!), and a selection of starter gear depending on your track and specializations, and off you go to make your fortune.

And sure, you run up a debt in that bank account, which you gotta pay back or else. So what? Even if Kor hadn't really really wanted to go to space, it was pretty obvious that the aliens were here to stay. You don't throw up big fancy buildings like the Guild's city headquarters if you weren't settling in for the long haul. The literacy classes alone were worth going into debt for; a vern who could deal straight with aliens would have plenty of opportunities. Sometimes you had to take a risk.

The trick is to take smart risks, not dumb ones. He'd heard a couple of numbnuts muttering about selling their gear for the local gold after they graduated, and ducking out to some other town far away from the Guild where they'd live like princes.

"Juss-tiss."

More fools they. The Guild was training mercenaries. There'd be plenty of their classmates who'd be perfectly happy to take on a few debt collection jobs, especially if it cleared their own debts in the process. And if someone was fool enough to let their gear get stolen out from under them? This wasn't just gear, it wasn't even a ticket to a better life, it was the future of their world writ small, and Kor knew that they'd have to pry that kit from his cold dead hands. Because Kor had a plan.

Well, it wasn't just his plan. It was also Jevvo's, and Nark's, and Davyr's and… yeah, you get the idea, and the teachers had been very helpful when they'd gone and asked about it. 'Cause, one miner couldn't do a whole lot, even with the alien gear. Two miners couldn't do a whole lot. But ten? Twenty? So yeah, they were teaming up. Companying up? Whatever. A Cooperative. With some guys from each of the specialization tracks, so that they knew what's what and didn't find out at the dig site that there was something they needed and didn't have. And Jevvo was forming a starter Collective, to handle all the transporting and selling of the ore the Cooperative dug up, and Vemik over in the merc track was getting people together into a Conclave to run protection on the dig site and the caravan and everything. What do you call it when you've got all three of those "Co" words grouping together? Kor made a mental note to ask the Basic teacher later.

"K- Kh- Kraz it, that's enough for now."

They'd have to figure out how to handle profits and such, obviously; who gets paid what? How much risk for how much reward? Yadda yadda yadda. Because nobody knew. Sure, the trader track guys were probably getting trained special for that stuff, but who didn't know how to haggle and dicker? And those numbers courses were clearing up a lot of stuff that Kor had always sorta felt but not known known. But everyone agreed (or had been made to agree) that even with the Guild's records and precedents to work off of, trying to accurately settle up rates and splits when they were all know-nothing rookies was a recipe for a bad time.

Nah, the rule they'd worked out for the time being was simple: everyone eats well, and nobody gets paid in cash until all of the debt is settled. After that? Well, they'd have to work it out, but they'd be working it out with a whole lot more experience and training time and a proven record of having completed however many jobs. But you know what that wasn't? His problem! Not to say that he wouldn't fight to get the best deal he could, because his momma didn't raise no fool, but Kor's part in the plan didn't include sticking around forever, because those offworld Companies?

They were hiring.

"Okay, sums next! Now what's this one… 31 x 47 is…"

Kor had checked with the desk jockeys at the Guild, and there were a lot, a lot of companies looking to fill a hole or two in their ranks, but they all needed a minimum level of training and experience that no vern had yet. But they would. And when they did, the Companies would split a bit, some people staying here on Verndar to earn money and recruit from the next round of students, and some of them signing on with those alien groups to go out into the black and get experience! Obviously the end goal was to start buying spaceships and start working the big jobs, and Kor was all for that - he wanted his own ship so much he could taste it - but in the meantime, little ol' Kor would be travelling through space!

SPACE!

Spa~aaaaace~

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A/N: At this lowest level, I think the triple-Co word we're looking for here is Combine.

Second entry is from the perspective of the top looking down, rather than the bottom looking up.