"As of implementation of new measures under the Public Order Resentencing Directive, from now on there will be a quota of 300 arrests per month per each trooper. Those who fail to meet these requirements will face disciplinary action. Be aware that these quotas will be taking effect as of today, and will be applied to all divisions. No one will be offered exemption for any reason." The company captain stared over their heads as he made his announcement.
"There are no acceptable levels of crime. We are called upon to keep any and all acts of dissonance supressed. Any failure to do so will be regarded as negligence, dereliction of duty, and sympathy for anti-government forces. To ask any less makes us no better than criminals ourselves."
As the scout trooper left the assembly and headed to the armoury to suit up, he mentally counted back how many arrests he normally made in a month, tallying up how many more he'd have to do to keep up with quota. It was more than he would like to admit.
A voice next to him grumbled "I hear the real reason they've started these new measures is because they're using the prisoners as a labour force. This whole thing is just a way to bring in more bodies."
"If you weren't a trooper yourself I could charge you for saying that." He shot back, pausing in strapping on his armour.
"Hey, that's not a bad idea. Maybe I should spread some rumours, see if I can catch anyone repeating it back."
He didn't bother answering. The difference in numbers might have been high, but he wouldn't need to resort to tricks to handle his job. He'd figure something out.
XXXXXXXXXX
He'd been wrong about the whole thing, about handling it, about figuring something out, about how many more people he'd have to grab to meet quota, all of it. He was really starting to scrape his brains to come up with more tricks to bring in arrests. It had hardly been a month, but the locals caught on too quick. Nobody looked at a trooper directly, so they couldn't be accused of picking a fight. Nobody moved like they were in a hurry, so they couldn't be accused of running away from trouble. Nobody lingered in the shade, so they couldn't be accused of trying to hide something. Nobody talked loudly, so they couldn't be accused of making a public disturbance. There'd been a time when making fewer arrests and filing fewer incident reports would have made him happy.
A peaceful planet like this was supposed to be an easy assignment. Those senators in their fancy positions back on Coruscant and those bureaucrats in their cozy office jobs liked to talk big about "security" and "protection", but they never thought about the people like him who had to do the work to make those words reality. He walked past the shops, peering closely at the displays for anything he could interpret as contraband or anyone who fingered an item long enough for him to call it shop-lifting. If he didn't make at least one arrest today he was going to pay a round in the punishment platoon for sure.
A man walked past, his head down so you could mostly only see his dark hair, his steps slow, but he was alone, and every now and again he'd look around at the probe droids and the troopers like he was nervous. He'd do.