Governor's Gambit - Star Wars SI into Imperial Governor

Omake: Awakening Instincts of a Self Sustaining System

POV: Mayor Klabaago, Segi Orchards, Ugea, Minda System

Tidying the last of the day's paperwork into neat piles was always a nice way to end the workday. A meditative practice Klabaago took up from his days as an accountant. One the carried him through his term as Segi Orchards' mayor.

The small town had grown on him during his five year term. He had moved here to get away from his family's squabbling over wealth and status despite what any proper Squalris was expected to do. Unfortunately to the vocal disappointment of his mother-in-law, Klabaago was as far from proper example of his species as he could be.

He didn't want status or to wear fancy clothes. Preferring to instead spend his time on background, but important work for keeping things running. Klabaago was happy enough when things would run smoothly without anyone raising a bother or praise. A work philosophy he continued during his term as mayor.

"Mayor, are you still in today? We have someone requesting to meet you directly. They even used your name."

Well that is unusual. Not Klabaago's secretary asking if he was still in. She was good enough at her job, but she tended to lose track of his whereabouts after an hour or two of him doing paperwork. No the real strange part was someone requesting him by name.

People often told Klabaago that he "has the stage presence of a mouse droid". There have been times when he has had to reintroduce himself as the mayor to kids, and also the adults of his small town. One time he gave a speech only to have to convince an attending reporter for a school holonews site that he was the mayor a few minutes afterwards. As such people tended to send messages to "the mayor's office" rather than to himself.

"I just finished today's paperwork. Why don't you send them up then pack it in for the evening. It is getting around closing time and I am sure I can handle this on my own."

Whatever it is must be pretty urgent to not have to wait until the next council meeting. Mediating those was always nice since his council members were so passionate about their work. They got so engaged sometimes they forgot he was even there. He only had to cast the tie breaking vote a couple of times in the past five years since they usually came to a majority agreement on their own.

Local councils truly made running things easier. Klabaago heard how on other worlds everything is run out of the Governor's office and enforced by stormtroopers. That just seemed like a silly way to do things. How do they meet everyone's needs to keep the interest groups with influence happy? Not even Governor Las can handle everything in one central office. Klabaago's ruminating was interrupted by the sharply dressed woman entering his office.

"Mayor Klabaago I presume. I am Official Tailo. It is nice to finally put a face to the name. The photo that was sent along with your reports to the Nexus City government was lost in the Holonet. We only had a generic image to put as an alternative."

The Nexus City? This must be bigger than Klabaago thought. Last time he had to interact directly with Roxatory was when he purchased of a used emergency firespeeder for the fire department. They had gotten a new model, but the old one worked just fine even with the tractor beam having reduced range due to age and wear. He fidgeted with his dull grey tie on his beige suit, his favorite color combination, to calm his nerves.

"Welcome, welcome! Can I put anything on the kettle for you? I have tea, cocoa, caf?"

Normally it would not be the mayor's job to do the brewing. However Klabaago enjoyed the smell of his favorite fermented milk tea permeating office as he worked. Plus it prevented any awkward conversations when someone forgot his order.

"Just cocoa will be fine. You have been doing well for yourself as mayor. Especially considering the "irregularities" around your election."

The Officer's words sent a chill down Klabaago's spine. He knew he did not do anything wrong during the election, but the impossibility that he would actually win never left his mind. Why shouldn't Official Tailo be suspicious?

Klabaago was the last candidate to announce his campaign when the Governor began Ugea's first Imperial local elections. He only began running after his wife came home in tears after being mocked because of him at their last family get together. Winning was never his intention, he had hoped the prestige having run a political campaign, even an unsuccessful one, would get his wife's sisters of her back. He had no expectation of winning.

"It truly was a bit of an upset, wasn't it? I still pray for my opponents on occasion, given what happened to them."

Imagine Klabaago's surprise when the other two candidates were taken off the ballot right before voting day, resulting in him winning by default. He thought it was a prank call when they informed him. During the debates the audience didn't even look up from their PADs when he espoused about all those statistics and demographics he spent late nights reviewing with his wife.

One candidate got involved in a speeder accident involving the largest amount of spilled Shaak milk in Ugean history. The injuries he sustained from the lactational torrent were too severe for him to continue his campaign. Made all the worse by his species being lactose intolerant.

What happened to the other candidate was positively banal compared to that. She took a well paying job in the private sector in another system and dropped out of the running. Last he had heard she was in a scandal when two of her Twilek paramours burst into a charity dinner she was attending with her family to complain about custody disputes.

"Yes it was sad to hear what occurred. Anyway, I have come to inform you that your candidacy for the position of Temporary Administrator of the world of Blamordt has been approved."

What? But he doesn't even remember applying for such a position! He doesn't even know such a position existed!

"I don't understand mis-Official Tailo. I don't remember filing for anything like that."

Did his wife apply for him without his knowledge? Sure his term as Mayor is coming to an end, but Klabaago wasn't intending to keep climbing the political ladder. He planned to go back to some accounting work for office supply companies now that he has some experience on the other end of the filing. Maybe finally get to reading that 2,000 page holobook on the history of holocommunication infrastructure in the Pallis Sector. The tabling system they used when he paged through it was so intriguing.

"I am afraid the matter was and is out of your hands sir. The previous Governor of Blamordt passed away last month choking on fried buckwheat. Unfortunately due to the ongoing Offensive, personnel transfers and reassignments from the Coreward direction have been deemed low priority.

As such, the Moff has made a request for any excess or outgoing administrative personnel to be automatically applied to fill in those temporary personnel gaps. Your name was eventually selected for this position."

Klabaago's mind reeled from the upheaval of his retirement plans the galaxy had decided to throw his way. Sure he swore the oaths when he assumed the mayoral office, but he didn't assume the "upholding the duty to the Empire" meant the Empire could send him off wherever they pleased. He was pushing his upper fifties, by the void!

"Surely there are others more qualified, Official Tailo. I am not sure my health could handle being blasted off to a whole other world for Emperor knows how long."

Tailo's features softened at his remarks. Perhaps he reminded her of her father or an uncle. Maybe he could get out of this after all. Sadly what came next dashed those hopes.

"Worry not Mayor. Blamordt is a minor agriworld. Barely larger than Seigi Orchards in population. A person of your caliber will be able to adjust just fine. We will even be sending you some highly educated staff along to assist you with the more complicated tasks outside your expertise.

Even then, we are not asking you to act like a Governor, that is for the bureaucracy back at the Core to approve and determine. We just need you to keep things running until this nasty business with the Rebels is dealt with and the permanent replacement can relieve you so you can come back home."

That…that is less arduous than Klabaago was expecting. The planet sounds small enough that he should be able to handle the politics and flimsiwork. Local councils rarely differ no matter the planet you are on, right? It make take putting in a few extra hours at the beginning, maybe hosting a barbecue or two to get to know the movers and shakers in the community.

As long as those assistants and locals can handle stuff like space and foreign relations, it should be fine. Klabaago isn't afraid to admit he was never the greatest diplomat. Not like he has much of a choice. He may have won an election, but this was still the Empire.

"Alright. As long as it isn't too long. I guess I can process the petitions, make some speeches, and make sure everything is filed in triplicate. Just hope my wife isn't too upset about the move."

Maybe he can swing it as an extended vacation. They hadn't taken one of those together in a while. A working vacation for him, but not for her at least. She can see some sights, take some holos, find something exotic to bring back home. Who knows, maybe she'll be the one brag at the next family gathering!

——

POV: Official Kala Tailo

"Report Official, has the recruitment been successful?"

Official Kala Tailo listened to the monotone of her handler with a bored expression. Her handler was monitoring several deliveries of "promotion notices" so that things could run smoothly. This was the last such report they needed to deliver.

"Mayor Klabaago was shocked, but reluctantly amenable to the transfer. We are ready to move on to phase three and begin preparing staff for assistance and "policy reviews" on Blamordt."

The true goal of the Mindan government in volunteering for these personnel transfers was to install pro-Mindan administrators into these temporary positions. The hope was that these administrators (and their accompanying staff) could lay the foundation for Mindan style reforms on these worlds and cultivate the lower branches of government so that they more palatable to their standards.

They may not be able to make much progress with the way the Offensive was turning. However a dozen sympathetic native bureaucrats along with some "gifted" staff left behind to assist with the transition should be sufficient to lay the groundwork, even if the new Governor should prove uncooperative. Should the new incoming Governor crack down too hard, well a report to the Guild over such discrimination against their own workers will at minimum be able to isolate the problem.

"Excellent. Klabaago was the ideal candidate for this program. Inoffensive enough not to attract attention from the wider Empire, and competent enough to handle the flimsiwork to give our staff room to operate."

Inoffensive certainly described Klabaago to an almost supernatural degree. Despite attending an average of 58 public events a year, every constituent they contacted could not say with certainty the Mayor's gender, species, or number of limbs. People who remembered often said the mayor's speeches have the qualities of "background noise", "elevator music", and "those sounds adults make in children's media in place of talking".

Despite Klabaago's inability to generate any recognition from the public, he was firmly one of the hardest working public officials in his region. The man had prefect attendance and stayed the whole work day every day (according to his sign in logs on the database). Never once taking a sick or vacation day without months notice in advance. Mainly works quietly in his office and only contacts others when their expertise is needed for as long as they are needed. It is to the point even his secretary struggles to tell if Klabaago is even in his office.

It shows in how successful his admistration has been. An 85% passage rate for millages. Opening a new school building and renovating other one up to the new standards. The installation of a sewer line through the town. The integration of the 962 new immigrants without a noticeable dip in services or housing, including several Fefze artist swarms and an emancipated Slith who has gone on to be a fairly successful Guild mercenary. The repaving and maintenance of roads has been to an acceptable degree with minimal complaints from drivers and only two brown outs during a period of rapid utility expansion.

"With this, we should be able to spread the Mindan form of government even further. For the good of the people under more inefficient systems, and for the survival of our way of life."

And that was the crux of matters. The realization most Mindan bureaucrats and officials came to after working long enough. The realization that Minda does things differently than the rest of the Empire. That they are an outlier.

Two systems under one Governor is an outlier, one that is easy to crush by those that disapprove of its methods. Leaving us all dead or destitute. However, a governmental system that has been spread across the whole sector is not so easily dismissed and expunged. The Empire will be encouraged to overlook "minor deviations of policy" in order to focus on more pressing issues like the Rebellion. Edin proved our governmental system could be supplanted into new worlds, albeit with overly forceful methods.

Now was the time for a more subtle approach. The Guild is already handling the private sector and making inroads into the public. With this assistance from the inside, the sector's bureaucracy can be taken further in the right direction. One free of the corruption and malaise that so often plagued it.

"May the wheels of bureaucracy run smoothly."

"May the wheels of bureaucracy run smoothly, Official."

——

Looking back at how Minda's government is set up made me realize something. Mayors are elected for 5 year terms to handle local issues. This system was introduced around 3-2BBY. It probably resulted in Ugea having the highest (effective) low level administrators per capita in the sector.

We are in the period where a lot of those initial elected officials are nearing the end of their terms. Given the chaos of the Galactic Civil War, I don't think the Empire is going to let competent administrators retire in these dire times. The bureaucracy of Minda's government are just "interpreting" those transfer requests from the top in a certain way based on their history and precedent.

Mayor Klabaago is the textbook example of quiet, but effective governance. If the people that made textbooks could remember him, that is. Fun fact: Squalris characters in the RPG get +2 to their charisma stat. Klabaago's charisma would be in the negative.

Crossposted on SB and SV

Chp-80: My'thos Interlude

"Your mother snorts bantha excrement, you vermin! Begone from my sight or I shall eviscerate your clan from this plain of existence!"

"Yeah that's right, tell em DarkLord!"

"Get your sweaty asses outta here noobs!"

Myr'thos sat back and smirked as their minions followed up on their initial roast. Watching them tear apart a rival clan was truly a sight to behold.

In game, of course. If this was real life, they would be having far more fun. Unfortunately, Myr'thos was now subject to Las's rules, which included a ban on starting cults for mayhem and other mischievous purposes.

Ending the session, Myr'thos stepped away from their gaming corner, walking out into their outer apartment.

It was fairly sized, especially for an apartment in the Imperial Tower. Sitting just a few floors from the top, where Las's apartment sat, the space was divided into a few different rooms.

There was the entrance, which led into the living room. That was connected to the kitchen and dining space, while the bathroom and bedroom split off to the sides down a separate hallway.

In the kitchen, Myr'thos opened the fridge and grabbed a nutri-bar. It was the standard fare for Imperial troops out on duty, and tasted vaguely of nothing, nada and zilch. Turning away from the otherwise empty kitchen, they returned to one of the only other rooms they used, the bedroom.

Inside, there were two splashes of color in an otherwise bland grey room. The gaming corner, consisting of a large desk, four monitors, a mic and headphones, alongside the latest in gaming technology. All of it decked out in red and black lighting, as was only fitting, no matter if Garp called it the 'edgelord' color scheme.

Opposite that was the closet, which was almost always open and brimming full of outfits. Everything from sharp capes and Imperial styled outfits to looser casual clothes, to their own set of vent-wear, the gas mask chic that had only gotten more popular.

Many people throughout the planet found the style actually quite functional in many cases. Those companies that leaned into the style often made their wear with tough materials and incorporated things like communicators in the masks and abundant pockets in the rest of the outfit, leading to more sales from practical minded people.

Myr'thos's vent-wear sat next to their new Verdari styled toga. Made in the style of some clan or another, it was also dyed a deep red and black. Not something they wore often, due to the lack of intimidation potential, but Myr'thos liked having nice things regardless.

Sitting on their bed, they considered their next moves, wondering about life. So far, it had been better than just about any other experience they'd had. Sure, they were tied to that rat and its master, but the amount of freedom afforded to them was unlike any seen before.

Before, they were not considered a person. They were a weapon. Myr'thos occasionally still had flashbacks to that time, during the Sith Empire, when they would come back from a mission and be put back in the tube, back under the scalpel, back on the ritual circle. Always for another upgrade, another memory wipe, another experiment.

Built from the mashed together souls of a hundred minor, failed Sith acolytes, Myr'thos had been a dagger in the night and a blade to be wielded by whomever held the chain. Without any unneeded organs. No gender or sexual ability. An internal biology so efficient it could subsist off of dirt for days straight. All for their master.

First, it was Darth Hygler, then Darth Portanus, then another and another. Myr'thos could remember them all with perfect mental clarity, but chose not to. Just like they now chose to wear clothes they liked, and chose to engage in clan activities in Legend of Triantri, and chose to banter with Garp.

They chose to be Sith, to take on that mantle and truly free themselves as the Sith Code dictated, unlike those fools who never truly understood.

Within them, the Dark Side raged. The anger kept rising, because of course it did. Because the Sith would never make a force sensitive weapon and not allow it to feel rage. Of course, Myr'thos could feel other things, their old masters had failed in suppressing that, Myr'thos simply forgot too more often than not.

And so, as they stewed in their rage, considering blowing off some steam by dueling the Commander again, a scent reached their nose.

It was a slight thing, different from the rest of the room. Quickly, they identified it as the box in their closet, the scent only reaching them as the air conditioning vent activated.

The fact that they hadn't noticed it among the smells of their clothing was a testament to how many different outfits were in there. Or that Myr'thos was getting rusty, but they'd never admit that.

Picking it up, they examined it. It had been delivered to their room by a scared intern some months ago, presumably from the Governor. Myr'thos hadn't bothered to look at it at the time, dismissing it as a bribe for their obedience.

Now, however, they decided to take a peek. There was little to do, and if it was something stupid they could get their revenge against Mola in other ways. He was quite attached to that drink of his, so it wouldn't be that hard to slip a laxative or ten in there.

Setting the box down on the bed, their hands meticulously open it, sharpened, painted nails cutting through tape as easily as they cut through flesh. In less than a second, the container was forced to expose its secrets.

Within was a machine of sorts. Myr'thos's mind automatically scanned it, searching for any potential signs of a weapon or explosive, but found none. The only thing off about it was the small piece of flimsi next to it.

Picking it up, they read through the message written there.

"Got this five in one drinks machine. It can make, like 5000 recipes or something. Happy birthday.

P.S: Don't actually know when your birthday is, so I just sent this.

P.P.S: It's not a weapon, please don't kill people with it.

-Las"

A…drinks machine? After a quick trip to the kitchen, they plugged it in and stared at the little screen on it, showcasing a wide variety of drinks recipes. Opening the fridge, staring at the piles of nutri-blocks, Myr'thos made a choice.

Downloading the recipe list to their military grade PDA in what Veers would call an inefficient waste of gear, they threw on their bodyguard outfit, slapped on their weapons, and stormed out of their apartment.

A mere minute later, they walked past Garp's desk without greeting and kicked the doors of Las's office open.

The fool had the audacity to shoot a tied glare from his ringed eyes as Mugwuffin perked up from her excessively lavish little tree-bed.

"No, you cannot execute a child for out-roasting you online. And no, you don't get your own custom LECA unit. We built two already and they were both really expensive for not a lot of gain."

"That child was worthy of death, and I most certainly deserve my own metal steed of death, but that is not the purpose of this meeting vermin."

He raises an eyebrow, eyes glinting with something more than exasperation and annoyance for the first time in many, many months.

"We are going shopping! I must fill my abode with the proper ingredients for greatness!"

"...huh?"

-

"...with the rebellion now in near full retreat from the mid-rim, it seems the Empire is bound for another righteous victory."

"That's right Colula, glad to see it. In local news, the Governor was recently seen in the Kailin marketplace alongside his personal bodyguard buying groceries."

"Really? Strange things indeed, but what's more strange was how the bodyguard seemed to be leading! When a brave citizen asked the Governor what was happening, he had this to say…"

"I got Myr'thos the new Omni-Drink 5000 for their birthday, and now they want me to help choose ingredients. No, I don't know why I have to be here, and no, I don't recommend asking them. They seem really invested in this, which is the healthiest thing I've seen from them ever. Best not to intervene."

"Classic Governor Mola, always looking out for his employee's. Love to see it!"

"Of course, just another great day in Accordia. In other news, the new expansion in the cities southeastern section is being dubbed the Dockyard District due to the overwhelming number of newly immigrated families living there while working in the shipyard."

"A vast majority are Sullustan, and let me tell you Roktu, their food is to die for!"

-
Myr'thos is a strange character for me. Made in a fugue state at 3am, initially they felt like a mistake, just like that whole cult arc. Too forced, too rushed, you get it. Not my finest work. But that doesn't mean I want to just leave them on the wayside. While I'm still not totally sure about how to go about their character, I've got some ideas which can be glimpsed here, and I hope to do it well this time around.

On another note, Escape from Duckov? While listening to Spandau Ballet's Gold and eating Biscoff cookies? Peak, makes life worth living. Also, if any fellow Duckov fans know what those purple crate things in the Warehouse area are, I'd be forever grateful.

-Freefaller