Setting up Shop

[Salmakk]

Armorer-class Support Corvette Matthew Lucerne, somewhere in the Inner Rim

The trio of alien engineers huddled around a table in the Matthew Lucerne’s lounge. Salmakk adjusted a nearby humidifier while Azira, a creamy furred bothan, and Gai, a somewhat eccentric duros, chowed down on dinner. The mon calamari engineer brought over his tray and set it down on the flimplast table, only to have Azira immediately stare him down.

“We can’t go on like this Salmakk.”

The Mon Calamari’s mouth fell open, “A minor miracle has just occurred. The two of you agree on something…though I must concede that rationally, I knew this time would have to end soon.”

Azira’s fur rippled, “You’ve already been looking for places to set up a permanent shop then.”

“I have,” admitted Salmakk, “I do not think that I could convince her to ever join me here…”

The duros and the bothan exchanged glances. The “her” they knew of well, despite having never seen her even in holo, nor talk to her even through electronic messaging. But Salmakk had always been keen to keep his finance away from work; perhaps worried that one day, she might end up like their founder’s daughter. Gai leaned forward.

“When do we get to meet her?” questioned the duros.

“Not soon,” bluntly observed the mon calamari, “one of our subcontractors produced some of the gunships which caught the eye of their local planetary governor. He was impressed enough to invite us to set up shop on his world. I said we would consider it.”

“We gotta take it,” said the duros, “how many other worlds are going to let us break and blow up things in their back yard?”

“Oh, I can think of some that would,” noted Azira, “and they’re not places I would want to live. Is it a bad world, Salmakk?”

“Not exactly.”

“That doesn’t sound reassuring…”

He sighed, “Gyndine. Gyndine is that world.”

 

[Salmakk]

“What’s the problem with it?” questioned Azira.

“Mid-rim world,” mused the duros, “got some decent shipyards there, not too far off a major trade route either…”

“But,” interrupted the mon calamari, “it was also the site of a somewhat recent battle between some Jedi and the Sith. It’s already been struck at
once-”

“Lightning never strikes the same place twice,” quipped Gai.

“-except that this isn’t some natural calamity,” sighed Salmakk, “they might be thinking of softening it up for an eventual invasion.”

“What’s the offer?”

“A lease on some of their shipyards,” said Salmakk, “some nice tax credits, maybe even the possibility to eventually own some of the yards in the future.”

“Rent to own…”

“More like invest to own,” muttered the bothan, “it’s a hook. We set up shop there and provide more jobs to their people. It’s in their own interest for us to stay place if we can make money. They want our product line, because they know it can sell.”

Salmakk nodded, “My thoughts as well. I feel that perhaps we are being set up so that Gyndine eventually might rivals some other shipyard worlds, perhaps Rendili or Kuat.”

“Not any time soon,” mused Gai, “when I passed through there a year ago, the shipyards were noticeable, but not extraordinary spectacular. Nothing like Kuat, Corellia, or half a dozen shipyard centers...”

“But neither are,” said Salmakk, “we’re just moving from that startup culture that Doctor Lucerne cultivated to something more. An actual company. We could use this too. I doubt we’ll find more attractive rates or a better location any time soon…”

“But the specter of war still haunts you.”

“It does,” admitted the mon calamari, “I don’t want to see it hit us, both for own lives, and for the good of our company. It doesn’t make sense to invest in a glass house in the middle of a Sith neighborhood.”

“Hm…” mused Gai, “perhaps they will allow me to destroy a few more-”

“Oh, shut up Gai,” retorted Azira, “though some demonstrations and work on our part might help. Perhaps make a deal to start supplying the local defense forces with our products at at cost rates…Just think of a wing of our gunships flying around a headquarters on a world like our own, gunning down any intruders, or our interceptors taking out the invasion force before they could even fully land.”

“I think that we need to heed the lesson of Matthew Lucerne,” stated Salmakk slowly, “the one that he did not heed himself.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Several days later…

Armorer-class Support Corvette Matthew Lucerne, in orbit via Gyndine

“Salmakk, you have to find me a better ride.”

“It was a very secure ride,” suggested the Mon Calamari, “and a new ship too.”

Gir gestured at the gunship behind them, “It’s a gunship. And I’ll grant you that since it was just me in the back compartment, it was somewhat spacious, but I really would have liked to use a real refresher a little bit more often than we did.”

“Well Gir, you’re the one controlling the funds right now.”

“You mean, the accountant droid that I bought for my stocks is.”

“That too. But I’m sure that somewhere in the funds is enough money for a ship. You’re notoriously thrifty Gir, which is why I left the money with you. And your droid isn’t bound to go on some random shopping spree onboard your ship either.”

“Maybe I will,” said Captain Quee, shaking his head, “But I suppose this will all stop soon once we get established here.”

“I doubt it Gir. You’re officially the CEO on our charter papers right now. Unless you have the ability to suddenly retire...”

“Very well, everything but me and the droid will be here.”

“Sure you don’t want to leave the droid with us?”

“I might,” considered Gir, “but let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Azira talked to me about this…”

“Oh did she now.”

“Yes.”

“Well…then I guess I don’t have much to tell you brother,” said the mon calamari, “she’s pretty thorough in her briefings. Why did she?”

“Long answer or short answer?”

“Both.”

Gir sighed, “Short answer, because you weren’t picking up. Long answer, because I really needed to know right there and then so I could get my leave packet put together for a good reason, and know that I wasn’t wasting it for nothing. Gir, I can’t keep doing this; I only get so many vacation days a year. Things are going to have to settle down soon. Holo communication will probably have to become the norm.”

“And that’s why we’re here,” said Salmakk, “are you just going to wear your uniform, or did you take my advice and get a suit?”

 

[Gir Quee]

Esgarden, Gyndine

“Welcome to Gyndine, Captain Quee.”

Gir grasped the hand of Governor William Wenook, an unusually hairy man with a habit of squeezing his hands together whenever other people talked. The man always seemed ready to jump out of himself, though Gir found that enthusiasm admirable, in a way. The politician exuded a vibe that he genuinely felt that he was offering the incentives that he could to both Salmakk and Gir. And judging by their reception at the Governor’s palace itself, Gir was inclined to believe that they somehow were held in unusually high esteem. Wenook herded the group of Lucerne Lab employees into the palace itself, a regal white stone manor with a grey-green patina covered roof. Yet despite its traditional appearance, Gir could immediately spot a host of modern technology that seemed to crawl out of the walls and tastefully fuse with its surroundings; a somewhat retroactive-looking adaptation of new technology, such as holo-projector emitters with bronzium relief work.

Wenook eyed Gir intently, “How should I address you, Captain Quee? Do you prefer Captain, or President?”

Gir froze. Captain had always seemed more correct up until now. He had never been addressed as a president, nor had ever really thought about himself as a president, despite the title on the corporate documents. He was only thankful that he had listened to Salmakk’s advice and had worn a conservative cut business suit. If he had been in uniform, he might have had to go by “captain”, which was a military station not associated at all with Lucerne Labs. Still, “President” seemed ostentious to the man, and the title felt sickly-sweet, like a sugar-laden dessert that he was being forced to gobble down at some feast with foreign dignitaries. Gir blinked.

“I prefer Mister Quee,” decided Gir, “or even just Gir.”

“Gir,” repeated the man slowly, “I believe I had a droid with that name once, dressed him up in a canine suit too to entertain guests…but never mind that. What do you think of Gyndine’s offer.”

Gir turnd to face the real core of the company, its engineers. But they were as unreadable as Gir’s silver-plated accounting droid. He turned his eyes to bore into the Governor’s.

“I am intrigued,” said Gir, “though I do not believe I know enough about your world or its people to blindly accept the offer.”

The governor frowned, “Gyndine has a long history of shipbuilding.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Gir.

“And we have been staunch allies of the Republic.”

“I agree.”

The governor shook his head, “Then I do not understand your concerns, Mister Quee. I could hardly be more generous without arousing the fury and ire of companies that have already invested here.”

“Our hesitation is not in your terms,” stated Gir quietly, “they are very acceptable to us. Perhaps I should phrase it better. We would like to see where we would fit in Gyndine itself. Our company does not just want to be another employer, though there is certainly nothing wrong in employing your people and investing back in an entity so willing to work with us. Governor, our people will become part of your culture. That is what we wish to know, before we give that part of ourselves to your people’s way of life, if that makes sense. We don’t expect to be royalty, but we want to know the milieu of Gyndine’s culture itself and see our part in that, and the possibilities that entails. Does that make sense?”

“Did you major in philosophy, Mister Quee?”

“Not quite…”

 

[Salmakk]

Salmakk eyed Gir curiously. Despite having grown up with the human for half his life, the mon calamari sometimes did not fully appreciate just how different he was from the man, and not in any sort of specisist way. Yet it was clear to him that Gir was probably more skilled as a sort of diplomat, simultaneously obfuscating and clarifying the company’s concerns in equal measure that would be hard to find a fault with. He is an excellent figurehead. The governor shook his head.

“So what you’re saying, is that you want to know where Lucerne Labs would be in the pecking order?”

“Not the company itself,” said Gir, “but rather, the employees coming here from other worlds. My brother here, for example, wants to be sure that this will be a suitable place for him to raise a family. He wants to know that he and his family will be safe, not because I doubt the quality of your security forces, and I see that the crime rate is nothing to be overly concerned about, but because there have been some incursions as of late. Gai here, on the other hand, is more concerned about furthering his education and studies. Will he have the same opportunities as a native of your land? And so forth, so rather, I guess I am talking about inclusion. Will people moving here be granted citizenship?”

Wenook cocked his head to the side, “Certainly, assuming that they are willing to go through the same process as anyone else…”

“That alleviates, in form or another, many of our concerns,” stated Quee, “our next question pertains to your offer to subsidize a headquarters here on the surface of your world itself. We do not wish to rent out a space, we would prefer to buy; it just makes more sense fiscally if the company is to be headquartered here for a long time.”

“Well…Yes, I think we can do that, provided that Lucerne Labs signs an agreement to stay headquartered here for a certain length of time…”

“Certainly agreeable,” nodded Gir.

“Good.”

“Then I have one personal request, though some of the others here may have some concerns of their own,” stated Gir quietly, “I would like to meet the leader of your security forces to discuss security, because of the nature of our products.”

“That,” said the governor with a flourish of his blue cape, “will be very easy.”

Wenook snatched up a silver comlink from his belt, “Admiral Ospro, Captain, I mean Mister Quee would like to speak with you now, if you’re available.”

Less than a minute passed before the governor lowered his comlink and when a set of nearby wooden doors swung open to reveal a surprising large man wearing some sort of military uniform. Guessing by the awards festooned over his breast pocket, Gir guessed that this was the admiral who the governor had been addressing mere seconds ago. Eying Gir cautiously, the admiral slowly meandered towards the Republic officer. Gir almost half-saluted out of habit before abruptly catching himself.

“Admiral,” offered Gir.

“Captain,” nodded the other man.

Gir kept himself from narrowing his eyes, “I see that you already know a little bit about me. Perhaps we can talk in a more private setting?”

 

[Gir Quee]

“I don’t particularly like it,” admitted the admiral, “at least some of it.”

The two of them strolled down a promenade not too far from the governor’s palace. The stone walkway took the pair into a botanical garden, where the overarching branches of the native Usal trees provided ample shade from the system’s blue sun, and more importantly from observation. Gir guessed that by the many songbirds present, loudly proclaiming their tunes, that the man did not want to be easily overheard; a sign that it was to be a private conversation, though Gir was unsure of the man’s reasons for that. Gir eyed the fellow officer carefully.

“Care to be more specific?”

Admiral Kerton sighed, “Gyndine is not unspoiled world, and I doubt that it ever will be. The Vong once sacked our world, in what was an eternity ago, but judging by some of your comments, I think you know about the battle that took place not too long ago; one that saw Sith and Jedi, even some fringer characters, fight on our world. I’m worried that you’ll bring more of that to Gyndine. Your products could attract them here.”

“If we’re talking about strictly being in orbit, I might understand that part, but what about the world below?”

“Call it a hunch. Captain, I know that you’re a military man. If Lucerne Labs does truly become what Governor Wenook seems to think it be, you’ll be making Gyndine a target for a more galactic-scale power. One that I am even hesitant to mention.”

“The One Sith,” offered Gir dryly.

“I wasn’t going to mention it…”

“They say that they feed off of other’s fear.”

“I think it’s a justified fear,” combatted the admiral, “that you can’t simply ignore.”

“I don’t disagree,” mused Gir, “that it is a fear of my own, but fear occurs for a reason. It’s useful to instinctively know when there’s a threat, but if it you let it dominate you…”

“Don’t give me that crap,” blustered the admiral, “I know that. But what I think we both want to know is what the other is going to do about it. You will want to know what I can do to protect your facilities. I will want to know what you’re going to do to make sure that Gyndine stays relatively safe. What your own security arrangements are going to be.”

“Straight to the point,” commented Gir, “I can respect that. But I can’t be honest with you like that, Admiral, because I simply don’t know. I would like to see Lucerne Labs set up its own security teams or force or some sort. But it’s hard to know what exactly that will be once we move here. But you have my promise that I will try and figure that part out once we’re settled down here.”

“It’s a foregone conclusion that you are moving here, then.”

“Yes,” admitted Gir, “the governor’s offer came at a good time, that it will be hard for us to refuse it. I know that Salmakk and your governor have already discussed Lucerne Labs supplying your forces with our products on an at-cost basis; a benefit to us both. I’m afraid that that’s all I can offer you for certain, right now.”

“I don’t have much choice in the matter,” noted the admiral, “but we will talk about this again, or at least, I will be talking about it again with someone in your company.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Gyndine Shipyards, in orbit via Gyndine

“This looks well enough.”

“Looks,” repeated Salmakk slowly, eying the control room of the shipyard, “we won’t know how well it works until we try to use it.”

Gir raised an eyebrow, “But everything looks good, right?”

Salmakk nodded as he eyed the various controls and data screens, “It’s not top of the line, but good enough. You did well Gir.”

“Thanks brother,” mused the human, “hopefully everything else will go well too.”

“You do not think it will?”

Gir tilted his head from side to side, “I don’t know. There’s a lot of unknowns. I think I took the Governor off guard with that semi-philosophical speech, which certainly helped our initial negotiations, but Admiral Kerton…I’m not so sure about. He could be a useful political ally, and I had kind of counted on that. Except that he’s not.”

Salmakk’s mouth made an exaggerated frown, which Gir knew to be for his own benefit in understanding the mon calamari’s mood. Gir shrugged.

“I just don’t know Salmakk,” said Gir, “he seems like a man of solid convictions, which is great, and even of solid intellect and character. It’s just that it’s set against us.”

“Hard to win him over then? Is that what you’re saying?”

Gir nodded, “And I can’t really blame him. He has legitimate concerns. Salmakk, I think that if the world is willing to invest this much in us, we’re going to have to invest back in the world to start and gain this man’s trust. And I think we’ll need it.”

“So what’s the first step in that, brother?”

Gir contemplated the question for a few moments, “I think we have to show that we’re not going to be a drag on them. That we can take care of ourselves for some degree. Since we have actual property and facilities now, we should have something to defend them with. A security force that help protect our property and aid the planetary defense forces as needed.”

Salmakk eyed his brother carefully, “That sounds like it will require some liaison work with Admiral Kerton.”

Gir sighed, “I have my work cut for me, don’t I?”

 

[Gir Quee]

The two men strolled through the corridors of the yards, finally stopping over at a viewport on a walkway that oversaw the frame of a partially built Stormfire-class Assault Frigate, the Patriot Fist. A motley array of men in vacuum suits and zero-G capable droids clambered over the hull of the craft, welding on armor plates to the warship. Admiral Kerton leaned up against the railing to inspect the construction of the frigate closer. But Gir’s attention was elsewhere, looking to see if anyone else was present. Finally, Gir believed that the two of them were alone. The man from Hast cleared his throat.

“Why did you change your name?”

Kerton scowled and turned to face the blonde man head on, “Who told you about that?”

“The Governor referred to your old name before he sent me to you,” replied Gir, “I suppose it was an accidental slip.”

“Not likely,” said the man, turning back to watch the warship's construction, “but don’t repeat it around me, captain.”

Gir raised an eyebrow, “You know, I found it curious that I could only find a few references to your previous name-”

“It was edited for a reason, captain. Drop it.”

Gir raised an eyebrow at the man’s opposition, and turned his gaze back to the Patriot Fist, “Well, the Patriot Fist’s construction is going ahead as scheduled.”

Admiral Kerton nodded and turned back to Quee, “I have to admit, your company does appear to be more orderly run than I would have thought. Moving from a startup to full-fledged company isn’t the easiest thing. But I should be on my way back to headquarters. I’m looking forward to seeing the Patriot Fist being commissioned in my fleet, Mister Quee. I will see you then.”

“Yes sir.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Several hours had passed since Admiral Kerton had left the shipyards, leaving Gir waiting for Salmakk to finish a session with his design team. But it was not time he idly spent. Instead, the man dug deeper into what files that he could find, trying to get more of picture of what had happened over a decade ago. A sore spot for Admiral Kerton that Gir took a half hour to explain to the Mon Calamari engineer when his adopted brother appeared in the executive suite.

Salmakk frowned, “You mean to tell me that Ospro’s father did all that?”

“Allegedly. It’s hard to say for sure, given all of the circumstantial evidence” mused Gir, “but that’s why he goes by his mother’s last name now. I think that…legacy is an ongoing issue for him. There seems to be a certain tension between him and Governor Wenook.”

“As if Wenook is trying to force him out?”

“Perhaps,” admitted Gir, “or at least outmaneuver him so that someone else can replace him. I’m not even sure if it’s a legitimate reason, or if Wenook’s just using it as an excuse.”

“The Ospro’s, a family of traitors,” sighed Salmakk, “certainly an effective mudsling. But is it really warranted?”

“Well, there’s been no reappearance of that pirate gang with Kerton,” said Gir, “and there’s nothing in Admiral Kerton’s records to suggest that he has betrayed Gyndine, or done anything poorly. It all says the opposite, which may be why he’s been able to achieve the rank that he has despite his father’s background.”

“Or his mother’s,” said Salmakk, “one of the recent hires I talked to let on that the Kertons are fairly influential in the commerce sector of Gyndine. Something about controlling a lot of the talent and agriculture resources during the Gulag plague.”

“A continuation of that legacy, combined with his father’s spacegoing legacy,” said Gir, “in a way, Kerton’s moves makes sense as a sort of fusion of both legacies.”

“You really buy that crap?” questioned Salmakk, “that it’s all about family?”

“I don’t,” said Gir, “but that doesn’t mean that other people do. From what I’ve seen of Gyndine society, a lot of emphasis seems to be placed on who everyone is related to. Perhaps it’s a holdover from the plague days. So family legacy seems to continue to have some sort of residual power and influence on people, even it isn’t deserved.”

“Cliques,” offered Salmakk.

“Something like that,” said Gir, “and that seems to be something that we will probably want to break.”

“So we are on Kerton’s side.”

“Yes,” said Gir, “I think we are, at least for the long-term. None of us has any family connections on Gyndine, which means we’d solely be resources for someone else’s influence on Gyndine, given the social model we’ve been able to find on Gyndine.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Some days later…

“May I come in?”

Commodore Quee glanced up from his desk and quickly sprung, “I didn’t expect to see you here sir...”

Admiral Kerton eyed the other man carefully and slowly walked into the office, “No, I suppose not. But now it would appear that we know a little bit more of each other on a deeper level.”

Gir cocked his head to the side, “Do we?”

“We do. I know you put some credits into the GRS,” said the lanky man, “it’s one of the perks of being on its board; you get just enough information to figure out who your anonymous sponsors are. Let me ask you a question: do you rehearse your comlink calls ahead of time, or do you make it up as you go?”

“What kind of question is that?” said Gir.

“A good one.”

Commodore Quee’s eyes darted around as he thought about the odd question, “I generally have something of an outline that I go off of…”

“Because you have a purpose for the call,” said Kerton, “but you need to keep it flexible enough for an actual conversation, right? You don’t strike me as the type to blatantly give lectures or diatribes to other people…”

A brief frown flickered across Gir’s face, “What’s this all about?”

“Figuring out what sort of man you really are,” said Kerton, eying the contents of the rest of the man’s office, “money talks, but not as much as seeing how a man thinks to the unexpected situations. I’m assuming that you weren’t expecting me to show up right now in your office…”

“You did pull a bit of a surprise attack on me there, sir,” admitted Gir.

“I’m looking for a partner, and so are you,” said the admiral, “and it would appear that we’re heading towards the same goal. I wasn’t so sure about that first, not with the Governor bringing you in.”

“I’d rather the Governor not know that,” said Gir, “at least not yet.”

“Cautious I see.”

“Only when I have to be,” replied Gir, eying Kerton intently.

“You don’t trust me either then, huh?”

“I did before this,” said Gir, “but now you’re shaking things up.”

“Only your perceptions of me.”

“Fair enough,” said the Republic commodore, “but that doesn’t exactly change my point of view.”

“We should be more open about things with each other,” replied Kerton, “transparency’s a better way to build trust…So here’s what I’m going to
tell you. You know that Governor Wenook is up for re-election in three months, and he’s starting to hit the campaign trail hard now. Do you know who’s going to be facing him on the campaign trail?”

Gir shook his head, “Doesn’t seem like I’ve seen a standout contender yet, unfortunately…”

“But there will be,” said Kerton, “An old friend of mine. He’s just about to get officially started on the campaign trail. Just so we’re clear, we both know that Gyndine has stagnated. It’s not going to explode under attack from the Sith or anyone else. No, it’s going to implode under all of the cronyism that’s wracked my world since the Gulag Plague. I know you don’t want Wenook’s pawn in all of this either. This is your best chance to change this.”

Gir raised an eyebrow, “And the state security services?”

A flicker of fire flashed across Kerton’s eyes, “So you know that too. That’s good. There are plans in place to ensure that they won’t be able to interfere with the elections.”

“Is that why our contender is unknown right now?”

“In part,” admitted Kerton, “Several of the current contenders aren’t planning to actually run against each other; they’re just gathering them into organized blocks for the real candidate.”

“This feels like a little too conspiratorial for my liking, almost to the point of a set-up,” said Gir, “I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“It’s not a coup, only a stratagem,” cut-in Kerton quickly, digging in his pocket, “you don’t trust me, and that’s understandable. But let me give you a reason too. This datachip will help explain a few things. I’ll warn you right now, it will auto-erase itself after you read it, and it will only work a portable datapad. If you do try to copy it, well…I wouldn’t try that if I were you. You’ll regret it.”

“Sounds like some pretty advanced technological safeguards for a naval officer.”

“Who said I put them there, Commodore? I’m not working alone…”

 

[Gir Quee]

Several days later…

Of the four individuals sitting down in the corporation’s executive suite, three were engineers and only one was human, a military officer at that. Yet despite the lack of internal politics in the proceedings and the nature of their professions, their meeting had continued to move at a tepid pace.

“I don’t like it,” said Salmakk.

Gir nodded in agreement, “Neither do I, but it looks like our best bet. We all saw the info together. We all came to the same conclusion.”

Gai picked up his datapad with a bunch of notes jotted on it, “This Luminiscent Club, this third party, warrants some investigation.”

“If it is a third party,” said the bothan female quietly, “I think Kerton’s a part of the club already, and we look like we’re its next inductees if everything goes through. He’s probably the feeler for the group, here to see if we’ll be good inductees.”

“Inductees or allies?” said Gir, “they’re not one and the same…”

“This looks like a trickling stream to me,” observed Salmakk, “we start out as our own stream flowing down a hill to merge with the larger river that is the club itself. Once we become part of it, I don’t think there will be a way out.”

“You mean an easy way out,” suggested Azira.

“Yes.”

Gir crossed his legs, “I personally feel that we would be all right to ally with them on the election. But if they’re looking for something more committed…it’s not on the table.”

“I agree,” said Azira.

“I don’t,” mumbled Salmakk, “I don’t like one bit of this. We’re inviting chaos into the mix.”

“The chaos is coming regardless if we join them or not,” replied the duros, “but I’m with Salmakk. This isn’t good…unless we get to blow them up after the whole deal.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” agreed Azira, “we need an in with these people. If something does go wrong, I think we need to be able to turn it.”

“So,” suggested Gir, “we go in cautiously, find out as much as we can about the Luminiscent Club and set ourselves up for an exit if things go south. What do you all think?”

“I can go with that, brother,” said Salmakk, “but I’d like a week before we announce our decision to Admiral Kerton. That will give me time to make plans if things don’t go as planned.”

“And time for me to get some more info on the group,” said the bothan.

“And time for me to blow a few more things up,” said Gai.

Gir mock glared at the duros, “That’s almost funny. But in all seriousness, that might not be a bad idea to get ready to blow some things up.”

“Oh no,” protested Salmakk, “You do not need to add more water to that ocean.”

Gai leaned forward in his chair, “What do you have in mind?”

 

[Gir Quee]

One week later…

Stormfire-class Assault Frigate Patriot Fist, in orbit via Gyndine

Commodore Quee strolled through the corridors of the freshly-built assault frigate. The blonde man glanced around at the unusual clusters of other people and droids walking through the ship. Today was its commissioning day, which had brought a large number of civilian and military personnel from the world below into space, including many higher-ups. A small crew of Gyndine Defense Force sailors picked by Admiral Kerton had started to take control of the vessel from the skeleton crew of Lucerne Labs employees. But even with the commissioning ceremony, it would still take almost a week before the ship was solely run by the planetary defense forces. Gir rounded a corridor and ran straight into a pair of Lucerne Lab employees toting some newly purchased scattershots. The first nodded to the second, who tapped several buttons on his comlink, causing the blast doors behind him to whisk open to reveal the darkened interior of the CIC. Gir strode in. The doors promptly shut behind him.

In front of him, a mixed crew of the company and world below kept the vessel functioning under the soft glow of red lights. A gaunt man nearly bumped into him before thrusting out his hand to the Commodore. Gir immediately accepted the pale hand and shook it.

“Lieutenant Schluss, good to see you.”

“And you as well sir,” said the man from Gyndine, “nearly everyone’s on the main bridge now, including chief of the Defense Intelligence Agency.”

Gir turned to face a security holo-camera feed on the main bridge, showing a gaggle of people crowding onto the bridge, including Admiral
Kerton. The large man steadily waded into the ground, occasionally edging out people to approach the helm of the craft. How is he that calm? Gir shook the thought from his head and turned his head to face another holo-projector displaying the local news channel covering the last day of the election. I don’t know how he managed to get Wenook to agree to today for the commissioning date, but it must have been an ordeal. While Wenook wasn’t on the starship itself, the man couldn’t afford to not send several of his own people there for the show. Otherwise, his new contender, an olive-skinned rodian named Dardo, would have a field day painting Wenook as someone who did not care about the military; a sore issue for a world that had already suffered a Sith incursion in the not too distant past. Gir turned to a middle-aged female clad in a Gyndine Defense Forces uniform.

“Begin jamming all personal comlink calls coming in and out of the Patriot Fist,” ordered the Republic commodore.

“Yes sir.”

Gir turned his attention back to the polls. Now if everyone else does their part, we won’t have any interference with the election process…

 

[Gir Quee]

The next day…

Executive Suite, Lucerne Labs Shipyards in orbit via Gyndine

The group huddled around the holo-projector, watching the daily newscast. Gir glanced at those around him, quickly noting Azira’s matted fur and Salmakk’s unusually pale discoloration. He could feel the bags of skin around his eyes. Only Gai seemed to be normally rested. Like the rest of them, he turned his attention to the brunette reporter standing in front of the near-white mansion of the governor’s residence.

“Governor Wenook has ordered a recall of yesterday’s votes, but in a surprise move, the Supreme Court blocked the governor’s request, stating that Wenook’s accusations of foul play do not have enough evidence to warrant a recall. The governor’s statement that a missing repulsor truck carrying absentee ballots that the governor claims would affect the results has been downplayed by Dardo’s camp, who states that the number of votes needed to overcome Dardo’s lead would be substantially higher than what one of the absentee ballot trucks typically carry. Perhaps more disconcerting for Wenook’s camp is that the local data-net hackers have been spreading messages with what they call evidence that the missing ballot truck only appeared on government procurement list late last night. Wenook has been quick to dismiss this evidence as an example of clerical oversight, but his online opponents continue to take him to task…”

“It looks like we did our part,” stated Gir, “none of the visiting dignitaries had a chance to pull into Wenook’s last minute scrambling to scrounge up some extra votes.”

“You mean aside from that ballot truck,” said Azira with a wry grin, “it was a sloppy attempt on his part. I did my own looking last night at it.”

“You did?” questioned Salmakk, “you hacked their system?”

Azira quickly shook her head, “No, I took a look at the hackers responsible for disproving it. They all have links one way or another to Kerton’s GRS, usually with only one intermediary between the two.”

“That’s almost enough plausible deniability,” mused Gir.

“It is,” said Azira, “Kerton didn’t run for office, remember? There’s another link or two between him and Dardo. So there’s actually about four links on average between Dardo and the hackers. Long enough for plausible deniability, but short enough for some reasonably responsive communication between them.”

“But also short enough for some conspiracy theorists to start slinging mud now, and for investigators to start digging,” murmured Salmakk, “this isn’t over yet.”

“But our part in it is,” said Gir, glancing over all of them quickly, “we need to start moving on. Salmakk, you have a wedding to start planning. Gai don’t you have something to blow up?”

Gai grumbled, “Well, we didn’t end up having too…and Salmakk told me that I shouldn’t.”

“Not that, the other thing,” said Gir, “I was talking about the weapons testing in the asteroid belt…”

“I forgot about that,” smiled the duros, shooting up from his chair, “I have a ship to catch. Bye everyone.”

Salmakk closed his eyes as Gai giddily exited the suite. The door whisked shut behind the somewhat crazy engineer before Salmakk shook his head.

“Now that he’s busy,” said the mon calamari, “I can actually get to work on the wedding planning. I will see you all later tonight at dinner.”

Gir glanced at Azira, but the bothan kept typing away at her datapad as Salmakk meandered out of the room to his quarters. The door slid shut, but she remained silent as she had before. Gir cleared his throat.

“Are you sure they don’t know?” questioned Gir.

“Positive,” said Azira, “and it’ll be good to have them distracted. I just got a message from Kerton. We meet the rest of the club tonight. It should be a pretty private affair.”

“Part of our job is done then,” mused Gir, “the Labs are established politically and economically.”

“For the moment,” cautioned Azira, “before we continue done the path we chosen, I need to ask you something. Are you certain about this path?”

“I’m never certain,” replied Gir, “but it looks like the most promising one to explore.”

THE END​