Chapter 31: Olanir Krit'skar
In Orbit of Bothawui-4
Olanir had never visited the surface of any planet or moon before. While she had seen Bothawui and some of its moons from orbit a few times, she had never felt adventurous enough to land on Bothawui-4. Especially not after the frightening stories she had heard about the moon's gravity.
The Bothan Marshalls had slowly increased the gravity inside the ship as it approached Bothawui-4 to acclimatise Olanir and ensure her safety when they landed. To her however, it seemed like slow torture.
Olanir groaned and whimpered in pain when her back began hurting in ways she never knew it could. She suddenly noticed the weight of her handcuffs. After a few hours in orbit, when the Marshalls increased the gravity to 70% of Bothawui-4's value, her whiskers began flopping towards the ground. After that, it felt like insects were crawling in her fur.
Klaes, handcuffed across the aisle from her, looked terrified.
At least you've been to Bothawui before, Olanir scowled.
Four hours ago, the Bothan Marshalcy had shown up at her penthouse apartment and arrested her. When she met Klaes on the shuttle, she knew what it was for. The Bothan defence industry had just imploded, Bothans had died in a military attack on Bothawui-9—an attack on the headquarters of Thrask Research. Yet, the value of Thrask stock had gone up by 1,056% and now, she was the richest Askar in history. If she combined her networth with Klaes, they would probably be the richest individual Bothans ever.
As the shuttle finally left orbit and descended into the atmosphere, Olanir looked around at the darkness out the windows. "Zom sju mu lunterlaga?" [Where are we landing?]
One of the gruff Marshals, a Bothawui-smelling Bothan, answered "Velhom'shtarn."
Olanir had never heard of it before. She gulped nervously then yelped in terror when the shuttle landed with a slight bang.
The Marshals all began laughing. One of them muttered under his breath about stupid Spacers.
The salty smell of the ocean wafted in once the door opened. She sniffed the air curiously as they led her out into the night towards a TW-4 police speeder.
[You are both getting a hearing tomorrow,] growled the Marshal pulling her gruffly. [You are being locked up until then. Your lawyer will be landing tomorrow Krit'skar. Oc'skar, yours is already here.]
[Why did you bring me down now instead of tomorrow?] she asked curiously.
The Marshal chuckled in earnest. [Trust me, you Spacers don't do well landing for the first time in the day.]
Thot Ni'mai
Bothawui-9
Hakorsk still slept peacefully. Ni'mai rolled over in bed and stared him wondering whether to wake him or leave him to sleep longer. There isn't much any of us can do right now anyways.
It was 0901 in the morning on this part of Bothawui-9 but, deep underground in the town shelter, there was no sunlight. The entire populace was now either sleeping in the hospital or the town shelter. The town generator had failed. The shelter, the hospital, and the HoloNet station were now the only structures with power. With the shield gone, the temperature went below -40 degrees at night.
On the bright side, despite everything else, his town had enough food on reserve to last a week. He had enough money personally to pay for more food deliveries for the entire town tomorrow. Along with a few other wealthy bureaucrats, they had enough money to keep feeding the town and keep all of the Bothans, if not happy, then not hungry.
They did not have enough money to rebuild however, nor enough money to get the trillion zav deals they have with the Bothawui Navy back on schedule—deals larger than the total value of Thrask Industries itself.
He hopped in his quarter's shower, seething at the loss of so many lives. His own niece had even thrown herself in the path of the invaders as part of some doomed effort to stall them long enough for reinforcements to arrive. Two of his security and almost all of the town's police force was dead.
When he got out of the shower, his datapad was suddenly exploding with notifications.
Apparently, the value of Thrask Industries had shot up more than a thousand-fold and was still rising. Despite the fact Thrask Research's headquarters was destroyed, years of work were destroyed, and dozens of Bothans were killed, the value of the company went up. The engineer scoffed to himself. Economics. How does that make any sense?
Another message came from a "Zuro Pax" from Murkhana. Huh. Separatists. "My condolences for the attack on your people. Would you be willing to do an interview?"
Sure, the Bothan thought with a feral angry grin, I'll tell the whole Galaxy what the damn Republic did.
As he started typing his reply to this Zuro Pax, he gasped when a message came from Gavin Azi'skar.The leader of Clan Askar! What could that snake want? More than anything, Thot Ni'mai was incredulous. Clan Askar was still the largest recipient of Combined Clans and Diplomatic Services aid and was in no position to help him, offer him anything, or even buy anything from his company.
[I am going to be sending relief workers. I pressed the First Secretary to get members of Clan Ales and Onel to help you rebuild,] Azi'skar's hologram growled in Bothese. By his impatient tone, he clearly expected a thanks.
[Why are you… what? Whose paying for them?!] Ni'mai gasped in pure surprise.
[I will pay them,] Azi'skar said with a Spacer hand shrug. [It was the favourable part of the bill that got the Council to vote so fast. You should have been here,] Azi'skar growled.
[But why?] Ni'mai asked incredulously. [I am grateful, but you never seemed to like me at all and where did you get the money?! You—]
"—I do think you are a weak little Bothan," Azi'skar growled cautiously in Basic. "And I think you are too greedy, too ambitious, and it puts all Bothans at risk. You are petty. I wouldn't be surprised if you opposed my bill to help your people just because I proposed it. However, Clan Askar now has majority stock of Thrask Industries so your success—"
"—WHAT?!" Ni'mai snarled. "You what? HOW? How could your clan afford to buy my company? Our brokers would never sell all a majority of our stock to one buyer! That could put everything at risk! This is infuriating."
"There is a full investigation still going on," Azi'skar growled with another Spacer hand shrug. "It seems there were two individual buyers and my Clan's Credit Union. We have seized the shares from Olanir Krit'skar and Klaes Oc'skar to stabilise your company in addition to the 6,200 shares Askar Credit Union purchased. Two of my people seem to have known you were going to be under attack."
"They knew?!" Ni'mai snarled in fury.
"Yes, it seems two of my Clan members in the banking community knew," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It's all very complicated, and I don't understand it, but somehow, these two made the value of your company go up."
"So now…" Ni'mai gasped. "Clan Askar owns my company? How is that fair? You can't just do this to me!" These Spacers can't even keep their streets clean and they own my company! What will they do with it?
"I haven't done anything to you," Azi'skar explained. "The arrangements will be the same—"
"—You aren't going to fire me?" Ni'mai growled nervously, his fur flat.
"You seem smart, so even if I wanted to you to step down as the CEO, I would keep you in our employ. Now that our Clans have a blood bond, I think of you as a distant little red-furred annoying cousin in-law or something. I want you to be happy," he said with a cocky toothy grin. "You are now my CEO."
"Blood bond?" Ni'mai growled cautiously. "I haven't heard anything—"
"Morst is my cousin and a member of my Clan," Azi'skar said. "This means our Clans—"
"—I still don't understand. There hasn't been a blood bond. Just one of you Spacers married my niece!"
"Are you sure you are an engineer?" Azi'skar scoffed. "Asir is pregnant with the child of my second cousin. This means—"
"—Wait… Asir is pregnant?!" Ni'mai snarled.
"Oh." Azi'skar began chuckling slightly. "You still have not said thank you once. You are still CEO and you are getting my help. I am literally spending millions of Zav from my Clan to—"
"Thank you," Ni'mai said in as polite of a tone as he could, but he was trembling from shock and fear.
"GET UP HAKORSK!" Ni'mai snarled. "You lazy—"
"What's the matter honey?" Hakorsk yawned. He was so tired he only opened one eye. "I know when you are scared and—"
"—Clan Askar owns us," Ni'mai stammered. "Asir is pregnant."
"Just because your niece is pregnant does not mean Clan Askar owns anything," Hakorsk chuckled tiredly. "She's your niece."
"You knew she was pregnant?!" Ni'mai demanded.
"Nope," Hakorsk shrugged. "I smelled something odd though. But either way, it's true, just because a member of their Clan is having a baby with your niece does not mean they own you."
"That's not it," Ni'mai stammered. "They own a majority of our stock now."
"What!" Hakorsk gasped. "How? That must have taken their entire treasury! Those Askars can hardly afford shoes!"
"Apparently," Ni'mai snarled, "they are not as poor as I thought, and economics is even more baffling than I could have possibly imagined. The good news is, Azi'skar is keeping me in charge."
"Good," Hakorsk sighed with relief. "But what about—"
"—They are also coming here to help us rebuild, but… let's visit Asir. I don't have time to answer a million questions. Get dressed."
Ni'mai wrapped a scarf around his neck as he stepped out into the biting cold. Hakorsk shuddered, exhaling in a cloud of mist as he stepped through the door.
The ashes and snow had stopped falling, but the wind was still blowing loose debris around on the ground. He cautiously crossed the street to the hospital.
The Askars own my company. One of them married my niece. Now she is going to give birth to one of them! I will have a Spacer grandnephew or grandniece! In spite of the fact the Askars were a space-based Clan, Ni'mai now saw them as ironically having an immense gravity.
After the Turbolift arrived on the third floor, Ni'mai walked as calmly as he could to Asir's room. She was sitting up in bed, Morst besides her. They both turned, their fur swirled nervously.
Ni'mai started stammering "You're—"
"—Uncle. I have great news to tell you and Hakorsk," Asir interrupted in a croaky voice, still hoarse from the rubber slug that had hit her throat.
"We have great news," Morst corrected with a proud toothy grin.
"Yes, we have great news," she smiled, but her fur swirled faster than before. "I am pregnant. We found out last night when… Well, when I got shot in the neck. The doctors did a… yeah," she winced.
"That is…" completely shocking. You are nineteen years old! "That is great news. Do… do Makus and Lalir know?"
"Of course," Asir croaked.
"My parents know too," Morst growled proudly.
I didn't ask you, "that's good you told them Morst," he said in a fatherly tone. "You two will never believe this. I found out that you were pregnant from the leader of Clan Askar." Can't be too mad at you two. The leader of Clan Askar now owns my company!
"I am sorry about that," Asir sighed. "We were worried you would be mad, uncle. We told the Clan Askar registry last night."
"Mad? This is great," Ni'mai lied. This is great! Maybe it's common for Bothans to have children at nineteen in Clan Askar, but that is not how we do things here in more advanced systems.
Ni'mai walked up to Asir and hugged her tightly. She hugged him back. Hakorsk joined in.
At long last, Morst joined the hug. The giant Askar squeezed the three smaller Bothawui Bothans.
Ni'mai turned into Morst's hug and ran his hands over the back of Morst's shirt. He angrily pinched Morst's fur and tugged it slightly. You kriffing big Askar bastard. I want to rip all of your fur off, but I won't. You are now a permanent fixture in my life.
"We have decided," Asir croaked, "that we want to have the child on Bothwui-5, not on Thellus, but we might want to go back to Kas'shtarn with my parents—"
"—Good," Ni'mai interrupted. Small victories. "Yes, this town… well it might not have the best medical facilities for some time. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like. Morst though… I think we will need your help in the rebuilding effort. Apparently, some other off-worlders are going to be helping us rebuild."
"That's great news!" Asir said a little bit too loudly and winced at her sore throat.
Olanir Krit'skar
Bothawui-4
"I am so glad they decided to do this thing in Velhom'shtarn," Koth Re'lab said happily. "This is your first time on a planet? You will love this! Even though it's winter here it's—"
"—hot and humid," Olanir growled, panting dramatically. She was walking around the Marshalcy Detention Centre grounds with the prison nurse, Kera Ko'nal, and her lawyer Koth Re'lab.
They were acclimatising her to the planet. Apparently, Spacer Bothans had gotten severe panic attacks before.
"The ocean is warm. Trust me. All this harsh gravity? It will melt away once you go for a float. We are just south of the equator, so the ocean is perfect this time of year."
Although she would never admit it, this place was prettier than anything Olanir had ever seen. The green dune grass on the ground poked out of the brilliantly yellow sand, the sky was blue, although it hurt her eyes to look at it. Beautiful, tasty-looking, purple birds frolicked along the fence. She fought the urge to allow a grin to form on her angry scarred face. She failed when she suddenly saw the ocean through a gap in the fence. Whoa.
"Don't worry Olanir," Ko'nal said, urging her along. "Panting in the humidity is normal. Bothawui Bothans do it too. You are acclimatising better than most Spacers."
"I am worried about the charges not the planet," she said, turning away from the ocean. "Treason? You really don't think I should be worried? What type of a lawyer are you Koth?"
"A good one," Re'lab said with a cocky grin. "All of the charges are circumstantial. Their only evidence is that you bought stock and caused a short squeeze. At worst, they might be able to prove insider trading, but I doubt it."
"And if they do?" Olanir growled nervously.
"Then you'll be in a nice white-collar prison."
"What I don't get is why no one else was arrested. Why weren't—"
"—Oh, seven others were arrested," Re'lab shrugged with his shoulders.
Damn. That means they know about the meeting with Miralo Tarkin! "Uh, Koth," Olanir growled nervously. "I need to admit something… when we have… privacy."
Re'lab sighed. "So, you were told by Miralo Tarkin that some bad event was going to befall Thrask Industries?"
The two Bothans were now back in the consultation room.
"Yes," Olanir growled nervously. "But more specifically, he said it was a natural disaster… or at least… used a natural disaster as a metaphor."
"That's good," Re'lab sighed with relief. "And you left early?"
"Yes, with Klaes. I do not know what else the others who stayed discussed with the Tarkin boy."
"All right. We need Klaes Oc'skar and his lawyer in here now."
Mas Amdedda
Coruscant
"WELL! IT IS YOUR FAULT THAT YOUR SON IS SUCH A CRETIN!" screamed Rivoche Banyule into her datapad. The Junior Senator from Eriadu's shouts and screams echoed off the walls of the Senate Antechamber.
Mas Amedda had yet another reason to smile. She was, no doubt, screaming at a Tarkin—likely the parent of Miralo Tarkin.
When he was not sleeping, Mas Amedda had been feverishly keeping up with the Eriadu news for the past twenty-three hours. The economic woes of Coruscant, even with the counterfeit credits, now paled in comparison to the chaos that had been unleashed on Eriadu. It was all so exciting he could hardly pay attention to anything else.
As far as Mas Amedda was concerned, all of the Tarkins were cretins. All of them without exception—especially Wilhuff.
Right after the battle of Bothawui ended in a Republic victory, Wilhuff Tarkin had appeared as a hologram in Palpatine's office. He calmly and politely explained the situation and asked for financial assistance for Eriadu. Palpatine, of course, could not refuse. The calm Tarkin projected was enough to impress the Chagrian. Nothing else about Wilhuff Tarkin or the Tarkin family did.
If there is one thing that may destroy Palpatine, it is his unwavering loyalty and respect for Tarkin. Mas Amedda hoped if Tarkin ever imploded, or exploded, that his contempt for Tarkin would appear vindicating, as opposed to arrogant.
The Chagrian was more amused than he had been in years. He was positively giddy, walking through the halls of the Senate with a happy grin, occasionally laughing to himself when he thought of another possible Tarkin scenario or when he got another update on his datapad.
Miralo Tarkin had shorted stocks on the Bothan Market—the most unregulated market in the Galaxy—using 2% of the Bank of Eriadu's reserve requirement. When the value of the stock increased more than a thousandfold, the bank now owed almost the entire value of its reserve. People panicked in a rush to withdraw their money and the Bank of Eriadu imploded; with it, the entire Eriadu property market. Millions of Eriaduans with no blood ties to the Tarkin family were now suffering.
In the middle of a war, a planetary surplus was erased overnight—the surplus from the sale of six Acclamators from the Outland Regions Security Forces to the Republic Navy. All of it was gone.
The company Miralo Tarkin shorted, using the Bank of Eriadu's money, had been declared a sponsor of terrorism—ironically at the behest of Wilhuff Tarkin himself, though Palpatine would never admit it. Because of this, the Bank of Eriadu could not legally buy back the owed shares. Their debt was gaining interest and would continue to gain interest until the Thrask Industries status was restored.
It was all gone. Poof. Unrelated to the war, unrelated to the pan-Galactic conflict, all of it because a Tarkin had gambled. All of it—
"—I have already transferred the Resolute, Yularen, and Anakin Skywalker to rendezvous with General Kenobi sir," Admiral Rand said calmly, giving Mas Amedda a puzzled look. "I am keeping you apprised. The Caellus is too badly damaged to be of any use and is coming back to Coruscant for repairs."
"Good," Mas Amedda said, folding his hands together, giving a fake smile, pretending to be interested in this war nonsense. "Tarkin will be returning—"
—His datapad buzzed:
"Governor Natasha Tarkin announces bankruptcy—"
—Mas Amedda began roaring with laughter.
Admiral Rand scowled. "Respectfully Vice Chancellor, I wish you would take this war more seriously. People are dying."
"I do take it quite seriously," Mas Amedda huffed unconvincingly. "Is that everything?"
"Yes, it is," Rand replied.
"Good, I must get back to the Senate floor. Have a good day."
"You too."
Mas Amedda walked down the hallway, his eyes unable to lift from his datapad. He was now reading a story on TriNebulon News about panic buying. Apparently, Eriadu City was running low on food stuffs. It would be completely out of food in just four days. How delightful!
"May I speak with you Vice Chancellor?"
The Chagrian jumped and almost yelled in shock. He looked up from his datapad and saw a blonde furred male Bothan with comically long whiskers. "You are?"
"Polo Se'lab. We've met before, you might have—"
"—oh yes, Polo… Senator. How may I help you?"
"Thrask Industries—"
"—Oh yes!" Mas Amedda gasped, a little too excitedly. "I have been paying very close attention. My condolences for the loss of life. I understand nearly all of those killed were police officers, not terrorists."
"Thrask Industry employees are not terrorists," Polo Se'lab growled.
"Let's say I agree with you," Mas Amedda mumbled. He added in a whisper, "which, I do. What do you want me to do about it?"
"I am proposing a bill—"
"—WE NEED TO TALK!" yelled Rivoche Banyule, interrupting the Bothan.
"I am currently discussing a situation on Bothawui. Not everything revolves around Eriadu. Many—"
"—I am drafting a bill to delist Thrask Industries as a terrorist organisation," Banyule stammered, her voice still on the edge of panic.
Mas Amedda roared with laughter. His lethorns quaked from the force of his laughs.
The puny Bothan snarled angrily. Banyule put her hand to her chest and gasped in affront.
"You two," Mas Amedda coughed. "You two need to talk to each other. You both want the same thing! Come back to me with a real proposal and I will see what I can do."