Governor Ophun sat at his desk in his office, which was tucked away in the Governor's Palace in the center of the capital city. Before the Empire had taken over the system after the Clone Wars, this had been the Royal Palace complex. They had since been moved, because they no longer ruled, but were now honorary titles. Ophun wished they had been moved farther away. Most of them, the one's worth anything, were still in the capital city.
If one of them caught wind of his blunder with Viito's portrait, he would have a bevvy of petty complaints at his door. He should have known better, but he had been so flustered by the return of the TIE Defenders it hadn't crossed his mind that the picture was of Viito's sister.
Who has a giant portrait of their sister in their office, anyway? That was abnormal.
The TIE factory on Lothal made that planet one of the most precious in the sector, a position that Ophun wanted Astarrax to have. But as he had told Viita, Lothal had mining and industry. All Astarrax had was the rare culinary spice, saffron, and lots of lace. Lace for women's dresses and spices for dinner did not make a planet coveted by anyone.
Ophun was well aware the only reason he had managed to obtain Viita in the first place was because of his personal connections to the planet itself. Otherwise, they would have left to fend for themselves.
"Damn it!" he hissed, standing up and walking to the window.
From his high perch in the Governor's Palace, he could see the lush jungle that lay outside of the city walls. He knew that it stretched all the way to the mountains in the distance, and in it were thousands of places of hide. Places that rebels and terrorists used to keep their goings on from the eyes of the government. Places they hid their weapons and people. Places he needed to find and eliminate.
Viita wasn't doing it fast enough. Near the outer border of the city, out in the jungle, an Imperial walker stalked the perimeter, perhaps looking for the vestiges of a rebel trail that stormtroopers that dotted his city had found.
They might as well have been under martial law, the way it looked. This wasn't what he had in mind when he had agreed to this entire thing.
His doorbell dinged, a modern addition to the ancient building, and he turned, saying, "Come in." One of his ministers came in, and Ophun winced internally, recognizing that he was a lower level royal family member. Here comes the tirade.
"Sir, Senator Lysenter wishes to speak with you." The minister held up a portable holograph communicator.
Ophun straightened in surprise. What does that old windbag want now? "Put it on the desk," he sighed. When the man did so and then stepped aside, Ophun glared at him. "Now leave."
The man nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, rushing out the door.
Ophun turned on the projector.
Senator Lysenter's visage appeared on the screen, her long black hair was up in an elaborate bouffant, her make-up elaborate, heavy, and slightly smudged, as if she had just come from the senate floor. "I was just informed that a rebel outbreak in Frida has damaged the airstrip there. No airfrighters will be moving in or out until it is repaired!"
Ophun gulped. Frida was where much of the planet's lace was gathered before being freighted to the capital city, where it was loaded to be distributed to merchants throughout the Empire. Only a tiny amount came from the capital city itself.
"We can move product by land until it's running again," Ophun said.
"And have the rebels ambush the shipments on the road?" she demanded.
"We can have soldiers guarding the shipments," Ophun suggested.
"Make Viita do his job!" Senator Lysenter yelled. "He was supposed to quell these attacks!"
"He has," Ophun explained. "He's working on it. He's also dealing the pirates just outside the shipping lanes—"
"I don't care!" Lysenter's red swirls at her lavender cheeks accentuated with her ire.
"You talk to him then!" Ophun shot back. He didn't have to take this type of treatment. Not even from a senator. He was Governor of Astarrax. "You tell him he's not doing his job."
Lysenter took in a deep breath, but said nothing.
"You don't want to deal with the half-breed bastard anymore than I do," he snarled at her. "If you know a better way to get the whereabouts of hideouts in the jungle or the mountains, be my guest!"
The senator straightened her shoulders. "I will," she said, much more calmly this time. "Find a way to get our goods to their ships for off-planet shipment, Governor." She closed the communication.
Ophun resisted the urge to pick up the small device and throw it across the room. The old bitch. Who did she think she was, anyway? Like she could do any better. He leaned against the edge of his desk, an ancient wooden thing that had been there for centuries. Once kings had stood behind it, and now it was his. What did she have?
He groaned. How do other governors deal with their difficult people? he wondered.