"Alright, team," said Maro Quenn, the kind of middle manager whose spine had been replaced years ago with quarterly reports. "Corporate says we need a public engagement event to reintroduce Czerka to the galaxy. Something bold, innovative, synergistic—"
"Violent?" offered Tressa, the marketing analyst who'd been drinking stimcaf since before dawn and looked like she regretted both that and her degree.
"Preferably not violent," Maro said, flipping through his holopad. "Legal's still jumpy after the—uh—incident with the exploding hover chairs."
"People love violence," said Dorn, the accountant. "They just don't like paying for it directly. You gotta wrap it in 'research.' Like, uh—testing new products under stress! Data-driven mayhem!"
Tressa perked up. "Wait. That's not terrible. What if we sponsor people to beat each other up using Czerka weapons? We record the telemetry, get free advertising, and maybe sell the footage as entertainment!"
"That sounds… illegal," Maro muttered, already imagining the compliance paperwork.
"It's only illegal if we call it a fight," Tressa said. "We call it a Dueling Initiative. A pilot program for R&D weapons testing. With, like, waivers. And disclaimers. Lots of disclaimers."
Dorn leaned forward. "And betting!"
"Betting?"
"Yeah! We open live wagering to the public. Instant revenue stream. People love gambling on things they don't understand. Look at the stock market."
Maro rubbed his temples. "So, let me get this straight. You want to—officially—pay random mercenaries, Sith, and bounty hunters to slice each other up on camera, call it 'innovation,' and then take bets on who dies first?"
Tressa nodded. "Exactly. But make it aspirational. A chance to 'join Czerka's proud legacy of advancement and public safety.' We throw in fireworks, banners, a blood-resistant logo, and call it a comeback."
There was a long silence.
Then Dorn said, "We could even make them sign over their corpses for parts testing."
"That's—well, that's just good logistics," Maro admitted.
By lunch, they had the bones of a proposal:
THE CZERKA DUELING INITIATIVE: WHERE INNOVATION MEETS ELIMINATION.
Tressa wrote the tagline herself, which made her briefly consider self-termination.
When the pitch went up to corporate, it was met with stunned silence. Then the executive board, still recovering from decades of public relations disasters, asked only one question:
"Can we charge admission?"
