Chapter 19: Bad Moon Rising
Horuz System, Outer Rim Territories
An imperial star destroyer dropped out of hyperspace just outside the interdiction zone of the prison planet Despayre in the Horuz system. The destroyer was far enough away to prevent an automatic attack by the droid heavy defense systems surrounding Despayre, but their arrival did not go unnoticed. Threat alarms sounded on the destroyer's bridge as it was instantly targeted by other ships in the area, which included over two dozen fellow destroyers. The newly arrived destroyer transmitted an encrypted authentication key. Each challenging ship decrypted the key and compared it to a master index. After confirmation, the ships stood down and the key was automatically deleted from the index. Used once, it would never be repeated.
The star destroyer slowly moved to a parking orbit among the other ships scattered around the planet. After a few minutes, an unmarked imperial shuttle dropped from the ventral bay as its wings folded down into its triangular flight position. It moved off, running lights flashing at its wingtips.
Waed gazed out the shuttle window, fingers idly touching the Rear Admiral bars on his epaulet. He was still having trouble believing his recent promotion. Their destination, he noticed, appeared to be a small moon in close orbit around the planet, slowly growing in size. Then he realized with a start: That's no moon. It was a gigantic construct of some kind.
Grand Moff Tarkin took note and smiled. "That," he said with a wave of his hand, "is my special project—a mobile battle station, the first of its kind. The Emperor himself has already picked a name for it. When she's commissioned, she'll be known as the Death Star."
As they continued their approach, Waed began to truly appreciate the battle station's size. He whistled quietly. "She's absolutely titanic sir! I do believe we have Captain Galicia's flyswatter." He emphasized the rank to remind himself of Galicia's own recent promotion.
"Yes, and this is only the start," the Grand Moff said with a gleam in his eye. "We've already begun framing on a Mark II battle station. She's been nicknamed 'Death Star II' by the crew, at least until she has an official name. When completed, she'll be many times bigger and meaner than the station you see out there. The experience we gain from this station will be incorporated into the Mark II as she's constructed."
The imperial shuttle stopped and waited just outside the station's shields. The Grand Moff paused to enter a final clearance code. The shuttle began to move forward once more. Waed could see they were on final approach to an equatorial landing bay easily large enough to accommodate a dozen shuttles with room to spare, and that was one of the smaller bays visible through the window.
"Your encounter with that bug ship has already changed some of our thinking," Grand Moff Tarkin continued. "This battle station is designed around a superlaser capable of destroying a planet in a single shot. Planets are not known for taking evasive action; therefore, the primary weapon uses simple line-of-site targeting. Thanks to your report, the Mark II will have an active targeting system incorporated into its primary weapon. She'll be capable of targeting capital ships on maneuvers as well as planets."
Waed felt a slight vibration as the shuttle passed through the bay shield. "Can the targeting system on this station be upgraded?" he wondered as the shuttle smoothly touched down.
"Eventually it will be, but in the short term, no. The design was frozen a few years back. We can't change it now, not without throwing the whole schedule out the airlock. The Emperor expects this station to be completed on time, and by 'on time' I mean the new, accelerated schedule—another result of your report." The Grand Moff paused as they heard the shuttle's ramp drop down into position. Out the window, they could see an honor guard in pristine white armor lining up on either side of the ramp.
The Grand Moff motioned Waed to follow. They began to walk down the ramp together. "Because of that bug ship, the Emperor wants this station completed a full year ahead of the original deadline. It means we are going to have to skip on a few niceties. The Galactic Union Local 1138 has been kicking up a fuss, but that won't last long."
The Grand Moff smiled with a look that chilled. "The Emperor has preemptively declared any strikes to be illegal. If anyone objects to working conditions, politely remind them non-military personnel unwilling to work will be escorted off premises."
The honor guard saluted as they passed by. The Grand Moff paid no attention. "This is not to say all their objections are without merit. In fact, that's partly why I want you here. You're new to this project. I need a fresh pair of eyes to review the corners being cut to get this station operational."
Waiting just beyond the honor guard was a nervous lieutenant who saluted and stood at attention. "This is Lieutenant Nomura. She will be your aid. Walk with us Lieutenant," Grand Moff Tarkin said as he passed her without slowing down. The lieutenant ran to catch up and fell in beside Waed as they headed for an airlock at the far end of the landing bay.
"You will have access to both the original plans as well as the latest revisions. Look for anything you think might compromise essential systems. We will meet tomorrow for your report."
Waed was aghast. "Tomorrow? Sir, I can do that, but it would only be a high-orbit overview at best," he replied.
"High orbit is all I'm looking for," replied the Grand Moff. "First impressions—that sort of thing. The deep-dive analysis can come later." He suddenly stopped and turned to look at Waed. "This project will be moving safeties-off from here on out. Do keep up or you'll be left floating. Dismissed."
"Sir!" Waed replied as he saluted. The Grand Moff strode off, leaving him standing with his new aid.
"Lieutenant? I assume I have an office somewhere?"
"Yes sir!" Lieutenant Nomura replied stiffly. "It's all arranged. If you will follow me, sir?" She motioned to a second air lock leading off in a different direction.
"Relax Lieutenant," Waed replied at they began walking together. "I don't bite. It sounds like we'll be putting in a lot of hours together. From what I could see on our approach, this station looked complete. How much work is left?"
"The outer shell was completed nearly a year ago," Nomura replied. "But there's still a lot of interior work to do, and the engineers are still playing with the engines—something about difficulties synchronizing down to the picosecond the output of over one hundred hyperdrive field generators into a unified matrix. There's a similar issue with the ion drives too. There had been a running joke which said calling this place a battle station was accurate, because stations usually don't move. Now everyone's in a panic because of the new deadline. The jokes have stopped."
"Hmm," commented Waed. "In my experience, when people are panicky, they tend to make mistakes. How's the safety record on this project so far?"
"I really don't know, sir. I'm sure I can look that up. No one has ever asked me before."
Waed lapsed into silence as they came to a bank of transport tubes. Nomura keyed in a destination, and the display flashed a tube number. As they strode to the correct tube, Waed said, "Unfortunately, a review of the record will have to wait."
The doors opened and they stepped inside a waiting transport pod. The doors closed and the pod took off, transferring to an express tube as it accelerated to full speed.
"This report the Grand Moff expects is a top priority. I hope you don't have any plans this evening, Lieutenant. We won't be getting much sleep."
Nomura thought about her girlfriend, a fellow lieutenant in the engineering division. She was smart, funny, and she enjoyed their time together. They had been drifting apart recently, in part because their new schedules made it difficult for them to meet. Tonight was supposed be a make-up date, and her friend had hinted if she was a no-show, that would be the end of their relationship.
Well screw that, Nomura thought to herself, suddenly angry. If she follows through, then we were never real friends.
"Nothing that can't be broken, sir," she replied to her new commanding officer.
Waed nodded his head. "Good. Arrange to have meals for both of us delivered to my office. We won't have time to go to the mess."
The time was 0739 as Waed entered the main conference room located in the overbridge. Only staff directly reporting to the Grand Moff were invited, so he was here without his aid. He was very glad Nomura had given him directions. With the exception of Coruscant, the Death Star's living space was several times larger than any major city you could name in the galaxy. Getting to the conference room turned out to be a seventeen minute high speed journey traveling who knows how many kilometers to his destination, and his quarters were considered to be relatively close.
The conference room table was round, but it was immediately obvious there was an established hierarchy. The far side of the table had a chair with a significantly higher back than the others. That would be where the Grand Moff would sit, with his highest ranking officers on either side.
Waed took a seat on the opposite side and began to familiarize himself with the holograph display controls. He pulled up his presentation and began a last-minute review, flipping quickly through the images, occasionally making a correction. He was so absorbed in his work he didn't notice when someone else entered the room until he heard the sound of a throat being cleared.
Waed turned off the display and jumped to his feet while turning to the new arrival.
"Sir!" he said while snapping off a salute.
The new arrival grinned at Waed. "You haven't been an Admiral for long, have you?" he asked. "Relax. You're Waed, the new member of staff, right? I'm General Bast, chief personal aid to Grand Moff Tarkin."
"Rear Admiral Waed." They shook hands.
"Mine giving me a quick overview before the others arrive?" Bast asked. "I might be able to give you a few pointers."
Is he really trying to being helpful, or is he hoping to gain some advantage with a preview? Waed wondered.
Then again, it wouldn't do to get on the bad side of the personal aid of the Grand Moff. Bast no doubt controlled who had access to the Grand Moff on this station.
"Of course," Waed said gracefully with a nod of his head. He sat back down and brought up the presentation.
Bast leaned over the controls, paging through quickly. "Not bad for an overnight rush job," he commented. "The Grand Moff wanted an outsider's point of view, and he'll certainly be getting that. A word of warning before we get started: don't expect much, if any, action on the points you raise."
"Oh?" said Waed.
He knew that for a project this big and this late into the process, it was unlikely for him to have much influence. Still, it was a bit annoying to be told before the meeting that all the hard work he and his aid put in through most of the night was dead on arrival.
Before Waed could question Bast, other officers began filing into the conference room. Waed stood up and saluted Admiral Motti, whom he recognized.
Motti, for his part, simply swept by Waed and Bast as if they did not exist, and took a seat to the right of the Grand Moff's chair, leaving empty a chair between himself and the Grand Moff's position. It was a false show of modesty. He knew full well no one would dare take that seat.
"Sit down and stop trying to salute everyone," Bast said quietly, pitching his voice to Waed. "You're an admiral and member of staff. You're in 'the club' now, and club members don't salute each other."
"Thanks for the tip," Waed replied quietly. The advice seems to be true. He didn't notice anyone else saluting.
Bast continued speaking quietly. "Admiral Motti you recognized. He's mostly a political creature. Moved up fast through the ranks due to his family connections. The white-haired guy is Colonel Yularen. He's in Intelligence. Not sure why he's here today, but he likes to sit in on these things whether needed or not. My credits are on him nodding off during your presentation. Coming around to my other side is my immediate superior, High General Tagge…."
The commentary continued until, at 0800 precisely, Grand Moff Tarkin walked in. The doors behind him closed and guards took position. All side conversations stopped.
"Good morning gentlemen," the Grand Moff said as he briskly walked around the table. There was a general murmured reply.
"We have a new member of staff with us today. Rear Admiral Waed will present his first impressions of our accelerated work schedule on this station."
The Grand Moff sat down. "Admiral Waed?" he said with a wave of his hand.
Waed stood up. "Thank you, sir."
He reached down and activated the holographic projector. A wireframe diagram of the Death Star appeared above the center of the table, rotating slowly.
"This image is based on version 12.2.0 of the construction plans. If we drill down into detail…"
Waed pushed a button and the image rapidly zoomed in.
"…you will note all bridges, walkways, and catwalks in the air circulation shafts have safety railings. The same is also true for monitoring stations inside the superlaser beam shafts. However, when we switch to version 12.3.14 of the construction plans—the latest version—the safety railings are now missing."
"We've been over this before when the Local 1138 complained," Admiral Motti cut in. "The purpose of this station is to project power throughout the galaxy. Safety railings are a luxury to be dealt with later."
The admiral smiled cruelly. "Besides, a lack of safety railings will keep crewmembers on their toes. No sleeping on the job!"
There was some quite chuckling around the table.
"Yes sir, I read the Local 1138's complaint. What about their suggestion of reducing or eliminating gravity in lieu of safety railings?"
"Can't be done," piped up High General Tagge. "The engineers say the air shafts are designed with standard gravity in mind. Eliminate gravity and the air stops circulating. The crew will simply have to live with things as they are for the foreseeable future."
Waed was tempted to point out how safety railings in executive officer territory were still in the plans. Perhaps the admirals and generals sitting around this table should be kept on their toes too? He mentally sighed, knowing this wasn't a battle he could win.
"Very well, moving on to the next item."
Waed switched images.
"The original plans called for mynock exclusion grates to be installed in the thermal exhaust ports. In the latest plan, the grates are gone."
"Unnecessary," responded High General Tagge. "Once the engines are up to speed, the heat exhaust will keep any mynocks at bay."
"Yes sir," replied Waed. "But what about when the engines are down for maintenance as they are now? My understanding is mynocks have been getting in. In particular, they seem to be attracted to this two meter wide auxiliary thermal exhaust port here."
He pushed a button to highlight the port.
"Again, not a problem," Tagge responded impatiently. "When the engines are run up during testing, the heat chases them out."
Admiral Motti smiled. "At least, the mynocks quick enough to get out. Slow mynocks are burned to a crisp."
"Yes sir. One other point I'd like to make about that small exhaust port. It's unusual in that it is a straight shot to the heart of the station. The engineers are having a hard time synchronizing the output of over one hundred hyperspace field generators. In theory, a lucky shot down that shaft could destabilize things to the point of triggering a cascade reaction, causing a great deal of damage. It could take weeks to repair, and be an embarrassment to the Empire."
Admiral Motti rolled his eyes. "You're treading on old ground. There are solid engineering reasons why the auxiliary exhaust port is designed that way, and we ran a vulnerability analysis. Do you have any idea how unlikely your 'lucky shot' is? Look at the plans. The exhaust port is ray shielded and secured by a point defense tower."
He waved his hand dismissively. "Any ship attempting to line up a shot will be torn to shreds, and the ray shield blocks all turbolasers. You're worrying over nothing!"
Waed started to respond with a counterpoint, hesitated, and changed his mind. This argument wasn't going anywhere.
"Yes sir. Moving on to the next item: trash compactors. Space is infinite. Is there any point to compacting trash? Why not simply dump it and be done with it?"
"I can answer that one," the Grand Moff said. "This station has the potential to create a lot of waste, and some species are willing to pay for it and mine it for recyclable materials. Instead of the usual practice of dumping, we compact it and offload it to garbage scows. It helps defray operational costs."
And so it went. With each point raised, someone in the room found a reason to explain why things were done that way and couldn't be changed. None of Waed's observations or suggestions seemed to stick. It was all rather frustrating. At the end, the Grand Moff quietly closed the meeting with a small smile. He left the conference room without saying a word to Waed.
As the remaining officers began to file out of the conference room, Waed noticed Bast was hanging back.
"I've blown it, haven't I?" Waed said to Bast.
Bast smiled. "Not at all. I thought you did rather well, and even came up with new points. I liked the thing about the mynock grates."
Bast's smile increased at Waed's look of confusion. "Consider this to be your initiation into the group. Everyone the Grand Moff brings in is expected to go through this exercise—to look for holes that may be missed by too much group think."
"Ah, I see," said Waed, nodding his head. Both men walked out of the conference room. "Smart. What's next? Keep digging into the plans?"
"Until you receive orders to the contrary, yes," replied Bast as he walked beside Waed. "But the real reason you're here is because you're our bug ship expert."
Waed groaned. "I'm hardly an expert, and I'm sure you already have a copy of my ship's sensor logs."
"We do," agreed Bast. "But you were there, and as you know, reports don't always include everything. There's usually some detail missing—not on purpose mind you, but simply because some minutia didn't seem important at the time."
"Speaking of the bug ship, there is one piece of unfinished business I'd like to conclude. When we were investigating the disappearance of a patrol ship, we extrapolated the bug ship's destination to a system called Dagobah. We were on our way there when we were diverted to Alderaan. As far as I know, there's been no further inquiry."
Bast frowned. "Does it matter? We know exactly where the bug ship is—the Alderaan system."
Both men stopped in front of a tube station.
Waed keyed in his destination. "Yes sir, and there may be nothing to Dagobah—we don't know if it actually went there—but it had to be somewhere for the past month before showing up in the Alderaan system. Where the bug ship is concerned, I don't think we should leave any stone unturned."
Bast nodded his head. "Agreed. I'll put it to the Grand Moff."
The tube door opened and Waed stepped into the pod. The doors closed and he was whisked away to his office.
S6-30-148
Elsewhere in the Death Star (southern hemisphere, zone 6, level 30, sublevel 148), Chief Petty Officer Hicks sat at his desk stabbing a touch screen, updating a daily work report. As he swore at the screen, two of his construction crew walked up and stood quietly in front of his desk, waiting. It was Technician Third Class Broun and his apprentice sidekick. Hicks initially ignored them, hoping they might go away.
After a couple of minutes, he gave up and looked at the pair. "What?" he growled.
"Sir!" piped up Broun. "We wish to submit an official request for a change to the construction plans!"
"Again?" replied Hicks tiredly. "This is the third time this week. What makes you think I won't deny your request, just like all the other times?"
"Oh come on, Chief!" Broun replied. He shifted nervously. "For pity's sake, this time it's important." The apprentice bobbed her head in silent agreement.
Hicks glowered at the glowing screen for a moment before giving up working on the report. He sat back and gave the pair his full attention. "All right, fine. What is so important that it can't wait?"
"We formally request that the mynock exclusion grates be put back into the plans."
"Request denied."
"But Chief!" exclaimed Broun. "You haven't even heard us out!"
"I don't have to hear you out, Broun. That particular change, along with many others, comes from the top. There is no point in submitting a request. It will only be rejected higher up and bring unwanted attention down on us."
"But this is a safely issue for your crew!" Broun replied in desperation. "We need those grates!"
"Why?"
"Every time those damn mynocks get into an exhaust vent, we have to inspect for damage. It's a huge waste of time and we have better things to do. I'm talking at least fifty kilometers more or less from the outside in, until the heat from the core is enough to keep the mynocks away. Then we have to return here. That's a one hundred kilometer round trip for one vent inspection most of the time, sometimes two vents if we're lucky and can change vents near the core and inspect a different one on the way out."
Hicks nodded his head. "I understand it's a waste of time, but I fail to see how it's a safety issue."
Broun waved his hand at a large wall-mounted screen. "Look at the schedule, Chief! It's already changed since this morning. How are we supposed to keep up with engine testing when the schedule changes all the time? And that's only the official schedule. We damn near had our asses fried yesterday thanks to an unscheduled engine test. We barely made it to a service hatch in time."
Hicks sighed and began to rub a finger hard between his eyebrows. He could feel a headache coming on.
Broun took that as a sign to continue. "And you know what the worst part is? The grates are already here, just waiting to be installed!"
Hicks looked up at that. "What do you mean?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
"I had a friendly chat with Rickles over in supply. He says the grates arrived months ago and have been sitting in storage ever since. He'd love to get rid of them."
Hicks shook his head at that. "Tell me this isn't a government operation."
He thought about it for a moment. "All right Broun, here's the deal. Request denied. I cannot officially put in a change." Hicks held up his hand before Broun could open his mouth. "BUT! If we get the grates, are you two willing to install them off-book and on your own time?"
Broun and his apprentice looked at each other. A silent agreement passed between them.
"Yes sir, we can do that," replied Broun, and gave Hicks a sly grin.
Hicks reached into his desk and pulled out a small tablet. He flicked through forms until he found the one he wanted, and filled it out. After giving it his digital signature, he handed it over to Broun. "Take this to Supply and show it to the lowest ranking knuckle-dragger you can find."
"Thanks Chief!" Broun exclaimed happily. He turned away, tablet in hand, when he suddenly paused. He turned back to Hicks. "Is this a joke? You gave this requisition the lowest priority possible!"
Now it was Hicks' turn to smile. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. "That's right, it has the lowest priority. You wanna know why?"
Both Broun and his apprentice nodded in union.
"Because the higher the priority, the more attention a requisition receives. A high priority requisition must go through levels of approval, which leads to delays and second-guessing by officers who have nothing better to do. Days can go by before a requisition is fulfilled. A low priority requisition, on the other hand, requires no approvals, and the lowest knuckle-dragger can fill it. You'll have your grates delivered within the hour."
Broun was amazed. "Chief! You're a genius!" he said, grinning broadly.
"Nah," Hicks replied with a shrug. "It just takes knowing how things work around here."
He stabbed a finger at both Broun and his apprentice. "Now let's be sure you understand. NO TALKING ABOUT THIS! Got it? This is strictly on the QT. You do NOT brag about it on shore leave, tell your friends, or whisper it in your lover's ear. NOTHING! Am I clear? Because if you do, I will see to it personally you are escorted off premises."
Broun paled. "Yes sir," he said with a hint of fear in his voice.
Hicks sighed. "Look," he said in a more reasonable tone. "This won't be the first time work has been done off the books, and it won't be the last. Just keep it to yourself and everything will be fine. Right?"
"Right." Broun and his apprentice hurried off to Supply.