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Shoan Kilian InterGalactic Landing Bays and Ship Services, Amidala City, Fortress Mars
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"Last stop. Amidala City. Mars!" The TC-series conductor droid announced to the passengers as the Action VI transport, the Wild Space, came in for a landing at the terminus of the Bloodstripe Run.
The ex-trooper rose from his seat and stretched his legs. The trip from Anax had taken half a day of hyperspace travel to cover the seventy-odd light years between the old Imperial capital and the Stormtrooper colony SF-4738 now called home.
He turned to the young man traveling with him. "You got everything?"
"Yes, Pa." Mahan said in the tone all teenagers used to show they were tired of being reminded to do simple things. Well if they would just do them, then I wouldn't have to remind him all the stang time, SF-4738 thought to himself.
Mahan pulled a long, tubular shaped courseweave bag from underneath their seats and hefted it over his shoulder. The bag contained everything the boy was required to bring to orientation at the Fleet Academy. Anything not on the list would be tossed by the cadet-instructors at the Academy, who would then ream Mahan out for having the audacity to bring anything they hadn't instructed him to take into their hallowed halls in the first place.
Nominally, SF-4738 had traveled to Mars to sign several new logging contracts and bid on a government contract to provide lumber for a bridge project slated to cross the Valles Marineris over the next year. The contract would bring millions of credits into the economy of Reborn, the logging town he had founded with other veterans on Anax.
The real reason, one that he was too proud to admit to even if an IT-O droid was yanking all his teeth, was that he wanted to see his boy off. He recalled with a sigh his wife's farewell to their oldest youngling this morning. SF-4738 was worried for a minute that he was going to have to pry Mahan free from her arms with a hydro-spanner.
Yet Baobab was certainly the strongest one in their marriage. She had given him five boys and finally this last Winter's Dawn, a baby girl. He didn't know how she did it and remained calm as he constantly worried about each of their younglings from the baby to Mahan. Yet she had broken down like a babe herself when her eldest set off to carve his own path in the galaxy. The last time SF-4738 had broken down for anyone was at the bottom of a sandy trench while he held the boy's namesake as he bled out from an abo's slug.
Emotion distracted one from their duty. Emotion got beings killed. He'd seen that time and time again in Las Vegas. SF-4738 replaced his open shows of emotion with stubborn vigilance to his own sense of honor and responsibility. It had served him well for the last twenty years.
"All right, boy. Follow me." SF-4738 instructed his son.
They made their way down the aisle of the transport to the main loading ramp where another TC droid was bidding the passengers farewell. "I hope you enjoyed your journey, sirs. Please hand your luggage chits to the loadlifter droids on the tarmac."
"Do you offer delivery services?" SF-4738 asked the droid.
"Of course, sir. We can deliver your luggage to any location at any of the port's Pan Galactic services."
"Great." SF-4738 stuffed his luggage chit into the droids palm. "See that these are delivered to the Long Jump Casino and Hotel."
"Very well, sir. We shall have them dropped off there within the hour."
"See that you do." SF-4738 turned away from the droid and started descending the ramp with Mahan following on his heels.
"Thank you for flying with Pan Galactic." The droid called after him.
"Kind of unfair that you have your luggage handled by droid delivery while I've got to lug this thing around." Mahan griped.
"You think so?" SF-4738 gave his offspring the side-eye. "The last one to care what you think, boy, was your weeping mother back on Anax."
SF-4738 knew he had to be hard on Mahan. No one was going to have to be soft on him at the Academy. Thank the Force, the boy was on the naval officer track. SF-4738 wouldn't wish the hardships he faced training on Carida, back in the lost Home Galaxy, on anyone.
The father and son stepped down from the transport, Wild Space, onto the tarmac. SF-4738 sucked in a sharp breath and braced himself. Landing bays were the hardest part of hyperspace travel for him. He'd rather face the odds of traversing an asteroid field than experience a nice soft landing, it was the ozone from the landing jets that got under his skin. One sniff of the stuff and his head was full of memories of LZ-LAX.
Vivid memories, of thousands of LAATs and shuttles descending on a burning city as a quarter million Stormtroopers were landed to drive back a beaten enemy, flashed through his mind. SF-4738's only thought back then was to bring every one of the troopers in his old platoon home. At Vegas he had failed them.
His wife had convinced him to eventually see an empath after watching him suffer with blaster shock for several years. He had learned it was a common malady of the troopers who had returned from that useless war on Earth and manifested itself in a thousand different ways from one stricken trooper to the next. SF-4738 knew of one poor Sand Trooper who had burned down his own home after cooking something called popcorn from New Mandalore. Allegedly, the sound it made reminded him of the slugthrowers he had faced in Shanghai and nearly snapped his mind in two.
SF-4738 could feel his rate of breathing increase as his pulse quickened with the first whiffs of ozone. His eyes darted back and forth across the busy landing pad from debarking passengers to bustling load lifters. His fingers twitched and reached for the non-existent blaster on his belt.
The feel of his son's hand was placed firmly on his shoulder, snapping him back into reality. The memories of LZ-LAX vanished in an instant. "Are you OK, Dad?"
"Yes, I'm alright, kid. Just thinking about stuff." SF-4738 admitted.
"Like what?"
"Like none of your business." He silenced his son's inquiries, before spotting a welcome distraction.
"Ahoy! Sarge!" A familiar figure pushed his way through the gathered throng of families greeting the off-loading passengers.
"HF-31. . ." SF-4738 caught himself. The habit of relying on operating numbers had been drilled into him over half a lifetime of service to two Emperors and an Empress.
". . .Thad, you old son of a bantha."
"Ah, my old mother was a krayt dragon of a woman but she was skinny as a Muun." The trooper from his old platoon laughed. The two men clasped each other's forearms firmly and pulled one another in for a friendly hug. "And Baobab isn't with you, so you don't have to fuss about what you call me. Half the beings that stayed on Mars are ex-troopers of one sort or another."
"It's been a while since I've been back." SF-4738 admitted looking around at the red-bricked cloud-cutters that made up Amidala City's skyline.
"I'd guess six years standard since I last saw you here. When we cut that deal with Alderaan Living Spaces to provide them with all the lumber they would need for their furniture lines." HF-3105 recalled.
SF-4738 chuckled, "As I remember it they had stolen all their designs from some Earther furnishing company. Icky something or another."
"IKEA. And thanks to us, anyone can find IKEA's designs up and down the Bloodstripe these days. Fierfek the abos." HF-3105 laughed.
"We learned in secondary academy, that the Earthlings weren't actually aboriginal but had a thriving civilization at the time of our arrival." Mahan interrupted the two ex-Stormtroopers. Both of whom stared at the young man like he had just started spouting Huttese.
HF-3105 laughed first. He wrapped a hand around Mahan's shoulders and gave the boy a squeeze. "Is that what they're teaching the younglings at academy these days?" He looked back at SF-4738. "You're lucky you got him into the military academy when you did, Sarge. They'll knock some sense into his noggin."
"That they will." SF-4738 agreed. He pulled a holochit out of his pocket and handed it to his friend. "YH-0003 sends her love."
HF-3105 took the simple device and nodded his thanks. "I'll have to watch this little gem later."
"If I had known it contained something too naughty to share I would have watched it on our trip to Mars." SF-4738 egged on his old friend.
"Nah, I wish. Probably just Leia griping about the kids or harping on when I'm coming back to Anax." HF-3105 admitted.
"Well she might be happy to learn you'll have more opportunities to get back home soon." SF-4738 started to explain. HF-3105 raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "The way I figure it, with Mahan attending the Academy here, it gives me or Baobab more of a reason to visit this end of the Bloodstripe Run. We can pick up some of your work here, while you focus on expanding the business in the colonies and hopefully Palpatine Prime."
"They use nothing but granite in the capital. Makes the place as cold as a tauntaun's teat despite its tropical clime." HF-3105 shrugged. Which was true. The newest capital of the 2nd Galactic Empire was a world of mostly exposed bedrock with thousands of raging rivers and waterfalls. Wood rotted fast there. And granite and heavy stone lay ready on the surface and easily accessible for droid stone cutters.
The same could not be said of Palpatine Prime's thirteenth moon of Wadarae, which had been settled by the Jedi as the site for their new Temple. Supposedly the world have been so rich in the light side when it had been explored by Jedi Knight Gap-Ido that they had planted their own hybrid variety of flowering trees and cherry trees from Earth, which had covered the moon in a matter of months. The trees had been declared sacred by Grandmaster Ashla Ti, which meant all the lumber for their new temple had to be brought in by SF-4738's company; Anax Buckethead Lumber.
SF-4738 didn't have an opinion about the Jedi one way or another. They had credits so he sold them as much lumber as they could purchase. He remembered when he served in the 1st Galactic Empire and they were the hated enemy. But they had gradually faded away until there were just a few whispers about them living on scattered worlds like Lothal or Cato Neimoidia. The few Jedi that had reappeared after the 'big jump' had served here on Mars and wisely stayed out of the way of things on Earth. SF-4738 wondered if they would have turned the tide of the fighting in the Empire's favor at the end, but what did it really matter? He was just glad to be done with Earthlings forever.
"Can't say I wouldn't be happy to spend more time with all our mates back on Anax. Moff Hinter keeps the Confederacy in check here in the Sol System but she also runs a tight ship here on Mars." HF-3105 continued. "Treats her fortress as her own little fiefdom."
"Are you saying there's not as much entertainment as there was here during the war?" SF-4738 cocked his head at his friend in disbelief.
"I wouldn't say that. In the past ten years old Mars has lost nearly two-thirds of its post-war population, but that doesn't mean entertainment doesn't stretch all the way down the Bloodstripe. Mars still has some fine tricks up its sleeves." HF-3105 turned back to Mahan. "When do you have to report in?"
"0700 tomorrow morning, Uncle Thad." Mahan answered. SF-4738 wished the boy had more snap in him. Well, the drill instructors at the Academy will whip him into shape, SF-4738 assured himself.
"He's sharing my room at the Long Jump tonight before he checks in." SF-4738 said.
"Good. Good. Then you'll have time to see what kind of trouble me and your father used to get into." HF-3105 smiled a mischievous grin.
HF-3105 did indeed lead the way. The ex-Stormtrooper leaned heavily on a cane made from kriin-wood raised on Anax. SF-4738 still had nightmares about the day HF-3105 had been injured inside the siege of Las Vegas from the shrapnel of an anti-tank slug and an exploding water vaporator during the collapse of the Empire's northern pocket there. The injuries had severed HF-3105's spine leaving him paralyzed.
SF-4738 recalled with a simmering anger how he had to fight to get his injured troopers proper medical attention from the surgical droids and their limited supplies of bacta. Eventually, at war's end, he had delivered HF-3105 to a Legion medical facility where they had replaced the trooper's damaged spine with a mechno-spine cybernetic. Despite years of rehabilitation, HF-3105 would never again be the spry youthful trooper he had been the day they had landed on Earth.
In spite his slight handicap, HF-3105 had no trouble getting to the roadway curb ahead of most of the other passengers and hailing a cab for the three of them.
A rather surly Petrusian cab-driver picked them up and threw Mahan's bag into the trunk of his C-B7 Interceptor landspeeder while the three of them piled into the back seat. SF-4738 noted the driver sported a Legion tattoo of the 555th Legion, one of the Legions that had failed to break into Las Vegas from California during the heaviest fighting. The man had served, which was all that mattered to SF-4738 who could forgive any trooper's surliness.
"Mon's Pleasure House, please." HF-3105 instructed the driver. "It's in the Northern Dependencies . . ."
"Oh, I know it." The Petrusian answered and shifted his C-B7 into drive before pulling out into traffic.
Mahan took a viewport seat and swiveled his head back and forth like the country bumpkin his classmates would surely call him starting tomorrow. The boy had never seen a large city. Anax's biggest town was Reborn and it barely topped seventy thousand inhabitants.
Several large cities had sprung up along the Bloodstripe Run, usually spurred on by one boom or another. Deposits of Neuranium on Quarzite II, Dedlanite on Koodan or Xonolite on H'nemthe Junction had pulled hundreds of thousands from Mars over the years. There was even a rumor the military was covering up a discovery of stygium crystals on Nal Kessel, but asking about that was a good way to get your head placed on the chopping block. Amidala City would always be the first city of the 2nd Galactic Empire, but she had lost a lot of her shine over the years. She was still a large metropolis within the Empire, and most years challenged Kuantus Rings on Nal Kuat or Syndulla on New Ryloth as the second largest Imperial city under the Empress's rule.
Jobal on Palpatine Prime, named for another Naberrie, with its towering granite edifices and cascading waterfalls had quickly eclipsed all challengers for the title of the largest city. Discovered by the Prince Consort nearly thirteen years standard ago with the completion of the Bloodstripe Run. It had swelled with beings fleeing Mars after the Ares incident, despite the installation of Mars' planetary shield; the only such defense in the entire New Empire. The result was a much reduced population facing the Earthlings.
Much of Mars's population was active military. Nearly everyone of a certain age, SF-4738's own, had military experience. They had taken such experience and blazed colonies across the Orion Spur. But the Imperial Army still had to defend the Empire. At a much reduced size, the Stormtrooper Legion absorbed the Imperial Army and Armor Corps while the Navy had swallowed the TIE Corps and Marines. Only three Legions were still on active status within the Empire. The 212th Legion here on Mars under the command of Moff Hinter, the 41st Elite Legion, or the Home Legion, stationed on Palpatine Prime and the 501st Legion which protected the colonies and was spread along nearly seven thousand light years of the Bloodstripe Run. SF-4738 could have swept them all off the galactic map with the veterans of his old 3rd Platoon. He was sure of it.
He looked out the viewports himself as the landspeeder crossed the Yos River. Factories and manufacturing plants that had once turned out the war material needed to beat the Earth were now shuddered and secured with durasteel chains across their doors. Half the viewports in any passing cloud cutter were dark, each signaling another being who had left to take their chances in the colonies. Traffic was lighter than SF-4738 recalled, both on the roadways and the overhead airways.
At a not particularly busy intersection a pair of Scout troopers lounged on their speeder bikes. SF-4738 was astonished that they both seemed to have their blasters drawn and were blasting lazily at a nearby can on the sidewalk and missing. No one seemed to pay the troopers any mind. Back in Reborn they would have been thrashed by civilians either for poor blaster safety protocols or their atrocious marksmanship.
They passed a parked ITT where SF-4738 spotted a trio of Stormtroopers talking to a pair of young human females. He glared when he noticed that one of the troopers had actually removed his helmet in public and could be seen laughing at something one of the piffers had said. Where the hell was that trooper's sergeant to chew him a new sheb-hole, SF-4738 fumed as they drifted by?
He looked towards HF-3105 who shrugged, "Times they are a changing."
"Fierfek that. It's this stang planetary shield they wrapped around Mars. Makes the Legion here soft." SF-4738 figured. He'd never experienced garrison duty, having served in active theaters throughout his career in the Corps, but he'd seen the rot from troopers who had been there. Stormtroopers here didn't take the Earthlings seriously . . . well neither did SF-4738. The best the Earthlings had come up with was a few bargain basement Nebulon-B frigates. And despite their best efforts the Navy still hadn't discovered any signs of life to worry about in the Milky Way besides the Earthlings. If there wasn't anything out there to worry about, well then troopers weren't going to waste time worrying about nothing, were they?
"You can say that again, Sarge." He poked Mahan with his cane. "Wait until this kid gets his rank squares. He'll clean up the poodoo in the old Corps."
"Here's hoping." SF-4738 agreed. Though he had once seen the kid eat a Glowzee bug as a toddler in the belief that it would make him glow in the dark. "I can't believe Moff Hinter let discipline slip so much around here."
"She isn't even planetside half of the year. I've heard the Moff is more interested in what's happening on Palpatine Prime than looking after whatever the Confederacy on Earth is up to."
"The only times I see her on the HoloNews is when she's tweaking the Admiral's board at the Rhombus on Palpatine Prime." SF-4738 noted. Moff and Admiral squabbles were not something that held his attention. He shrugged, "She likes to stir everyone's pots but her own."
The C-B7 pulled up in front of Mon's Pleasure House. HF-3105 tipped the driver as they climbed out onto the sidewalk. Mahan groused again that he was the only one that had to tote his luggage around, which just caused his father to chuckle at what the kid had in store for him tomorrow.
Mon's had a pretty good crowd inside, with a good mix of civilians and off-duty troopers and officers in their service uniforms. Several relaxed troopers at the bar sported mustaches of all things. They looked like wanted posters of rebel operatives back in the Home Galaxy. Stoopas would get those things stuck on an abo tripwire back on Earth, he thought.
An older female Lasat covered in feather boas was making the rounds around the cantina, or theater. SF-4738 wasn't sure what this place was exactly. He'd heard about it during the war but his time on leave was usually spent at the NCOs' Club on base or the Long Jump Casino. He took another look at the Lasat and was surprised that it wasn't a female after all, but a male dressed as female.
HF-3105 noticed SF-4738's surprise and put a hand on his sergeant's should. "That's Mon Orrellios, that old queen runs this joint and is actually one of the best infochants in the Empire."
"He or she a friend?"
"He is. How do you think we underbid those other companies on that Alderaanian furniture deal?" HF-3105 waved hello to the Lasat proprietor. Mon Orrellios waved back and then motioned to an empty table in front of the stage. It had a reserved sign atop it with HF-3105's name scrawled across it.
A Gozzo waitress approached their table on her spindly bird legs and prevented SF-4738 from probing his friend any further. "What can I get you, boys?"
"Three Eblas and start us a tab." HF-3105 answered.
The waitress looked suspiciously down at Mahan. "Is the runt old enough?"
SF-4738 chuckled. "I should hope so. He's fifteen years standard. He's been legal age for two years now."
"Alright, alright. Ain't no feathers from my wings. New regulation from the Senate requires we ask is all." The Gozzo turned and walked away. A minute later she returned with three chilled bottles and a bowl of moss chips and topato salsa.
"Who's playing tonight?" HF-3105 asked the waitress.
"Obi Lightman and the Palpatones. They should be setting up now." The Gozzo replied. As if by her command a large group of Bith musicians entered the orchestra pit between the stage and the party's table. They waved and thanked the few patrons of the establishment that offered a small round of applause at their appearance. As the Bith warmed up and tuned their instruments a skinny Rodian followed them into the pit. He got a lot more applause than the other musicians which caused SF-4738 to assume he must be Obi Lightman.
Obi Lightman sat down in front of a strange instrument which looked like a cabinet or wardrobe of some type. It had a bench in front for Obi to sit upon and a few foot pedals at ground level. SF-4738 noted the thing had a row of black and white keys at waist level. They emitted different notes whenever Obi tapped on one of them.
Seeing SF-4738's confusion, HF-3105 leaned over to clear it up. "It's called a piano. Plays like a red ball jett organ. I remember seeing one with holes blasted through it when we marched through Los Angeles twenty years ago. I assume Lightman bought one off the New Mandalorians. No idea where he learned to play it but stang it if he's not hot enough on that thing to make your teeth sweat."
Obi Lightman stood and bowed towards the growing audience. He then turned to the Bith musicians that made up the Palpatones. "One. Two. A one, two, three, four . . ."
A rising string instrument solo began that quickly rose in tempo as more instruments joined in. SF-4738 quickly forgot about the orchestra as the show began.
HF-3105 was already laughing as howls began to fill the Pleasure House. "Enjoy your first Can-Can, Sarge."
From opposite sides of the stage emerged two rows of female dances. Twi'leks, Zeltrons, Humans, Theelin, Chiss, Togruta, Pantoran, and Mirialan girls kicked their legs high over their heads in unison with one another. They wore frilly dresses that swirled about in a whirlwind of color and secret delights.
A Whiphid at the next table yelled with glee and pounded his fist on his table. A Dubravan rushed to the edge of the orchestral pit and waved a handful of credit chits at one of the dancing girls. A Gamorrean bouncer had to shove him roughly back towards his seat.
The song was loud and bombastic. The mass of dancers twirled and stepped in time with every beat. They performed acrobatic feats of flips and somersaults over one another. SF-4738 hardly knew where to look as one beautiful dancer after another performed various moves all across the stage culminating in a long line of matching kicks as the song reached its climax.
SF-4738 took a sip from his drink and then nearly spit it out across the table. The reason for his surprise were the eyes of his oldest son. Mahan was watching the dancing girls with eyes that would have dwarfed a Porg's.
With a knowing grin, HF-3105 elbowed SF-4738. "I think your boy just became a man."
"Force help the ladies of the Empire." SF-4738 laughed as the opening act exited the stage. They not only received a hearty round of applause but tossed flowers and credits. SF-4738 thought he even heard one marriage proposal shouted from the back of the room.
Someone suddenly set a bony hand upon the retired sergeant's shoulder. Strong fingers dug into the top of SF-4738's collar bone.
Whoever owned the hand must have expected SF-4738 to try to stand and pushed down to counter the move. But the old NCO had more than one trick up his sleeve and reflexes honed by drill instructors coming out of the Clone Wars. In a flash his right hand caught the assaultive hand's wrist and bent it at an unnatural angle.
The owner of the hand winced and turned away as SF-4738 jumped to his feet. The move caused the man to spin away and kneel on the floor facing away from SF-4738.
Three other men stood behind the one on the floor. Each of them looked to be reaching for hidden vibroblades and knuckledusters. The man held up his free hand to stop them.
"Hold." He told them and then turning his face towards SF-4738 he laughed. "Fierfek, Sarge. I see you haven't lost a step."
It was a face SF-4738 hadn't seen in person since he had signed his decommission flimsis, but one that had become famous across the Empire in the convening years. "3003, you old son of a gundark, is that you?"
"Aye. It's me, Sarge. Now can you release my wrist so I can buy you a drink?"
SF-4738 released his old squad mate, who grabbed a chair from the Whiphid's table and dragged it over to theirs. SF-4738 took a second to size up JO-3003's traveling companions. Each of them was obviously a veteran. They were lean, mean and looked to be able to handle themselves in a fight. They each wore True Victory armbands on their right arms marking them as party stalwarts. They chased away a party of Dwuni from a nearby table and sat down behind their boss.
JO-3003 waved over the Gozzo as he sat down. "A round of cigarras for me and my friends."
"Tabac or Skywalker, sir?" The waitress asked.
"Karabast. Tabac. I'm no spice-head."
"Coming right up."
"3105, I haven't seen you since you mustered out." JO-3003 slapped his old squad mate on the back. HF-3105 gave the sniper an uneasy smile back. "Heard you two ended up on Anax, mining or something. Are the rumors true. Did you make an honest trooper out of YH-0003?"
"It's true." HF-3105 answered. "We had our fourth last year."
"Ah, younglings." JO-3003 sighed. "Never had the temperament for them. Nor did I ever find a lady I could stand for more than a week to settle down with."
"Force knows you've kept yourself busy. I see you on the HoloNews at least once a month." SF-4738 told him.
"Aye, banging the drum to keep the Senate focused on helping you boys, and of course keeping the Clones in check." JO-3003 replied. SF-4738 wanted to roll his eyes. The True Victory Legion and their speciest rhetoric and violent attacks against clones had sometimes strained relations with the Empire's vassal New Mandalore, the clone colony on Earth and the Empire's one ally in the Milky Way. JO-3003's eyes fell on the fourth person sitting at their table. "Who is this then?"
"This is my son, Mahan. We're here on Mars for his admission to the Academy tomorrow." SF-4738 stated.
JO-3003 looked the kid up and down in appraisal for a few seconds. "A bit scrawny for the Corps isn't he?"
"Mahan this is Marrin Farvakine. I know him as Scout Sniper JO-3003. He's an old comrade from 3rd Platoon. Mahan is going into the Navy."
"An honor to meet you, sir." Mahan replied.
"Hah! Going to be a beetle-head are you? Well any son of the Sarge here will tear those Academy pukes apart and eat them for breakfast. You should have seen your Pa in the trenches." JO-3003's eyes glazed over for a few seconds. SF-4738 had seen the same look on hundreds of other troopers who had fought in the war. One minute they were sitting in front of you and the next they were a thousand kilometers away in a light-fight at the bottom of a muddy trench.
"He got us through, that's for sure." HF-3105 raised his bottle to his ex-sergeant.
"We weren't beaten yet when they threw in the towel. If the kriffing clones hadn't pulled out of the war when they did . . ." JO-3003 started.
"That's poodoo. There were at least two Clone Legions trapped in Las Vegas with us. They fought all the way up to the end. Same with the thousands who served in the Fleet. They didn't leave us until the Mercury Accords were signed." SF-4738 argued which caused JO-3003 to scowl for a second before quickly recovering. The man had honed his skills as a politician ever since he had left the service and he had honed them well.
JO-3003 turned the subject away from the clones for now. "Kid, once they give you your commission make sure you pay my Legion a visit. We take care of our own."
"I thought you were a veteran's group, sir." Mahan said.
"We have members still serving in every branch of the military. We even have a handful in the Royal Guard." JO-3003 boasted proudly, which SF-4738 doubted. The Royal Guard was sternly loyal to the House of Yos and shied away from any overt political leanings. "However, I've noticed these two haven't joined their brothers in the movement."
"Anax is a colony world. We're loyal to the Senate and the Empress. We're just troopers trying to build new lives." SF-4738 stated.
"Yeah, no need to have your stalwarts tramping all over the place leaving muddy boot prints." HF-3105 added.
"We leave our boot prints on the Senate door these days. If it wasn't for our help the Imperial Patriotic Party wouldn't have won the majority two years ago." JO-3003 continued his prideful boasts.
"Big fat lot of good it did you. Prime Chancellor Runnerz keeps trooper pensions as low as he can while keeping half the fleet mothballed at the Nal Kuat Rings out of fear of a second Grand Depression. If it wasn't for the Empress's charters, colonization would end and growth would stagnate. As it were it's the free troopers and citizens keeping the Empire moving ahead, not your bully boys." SF-4738 said. He downed his Ebla and signaled the Gozzo to bring them another round. He was going to need the drink as it seemed JO-3003 was just as annoying and stoopa as he had been twenty years ago.
"Fat lot of help you guys were to the IPP anyway. How many Senate seats did you boys pick up in the House of Scoundrels last go around?" HF-3105 asked with a sheepish grin.
"Three. We should have had ten but you know . . . things got complicated. New Mandalore picked up a few big contracts from KDY and my guess is they forced their workforce to vote against us."
"Half of the lower house is ex-troopers, and you only got three of your lap akks in?" HF-3105 turned to Mahan. "Yeah, kid, you make sure you run straight to the nearest True Victory house the moment you're eligible and then keep on running."
Before JO-3003 could vent his anger at HF-3105's insult Obi Lightman presented the next act. A life support tank was hovered out into the center of the stage containing a Gallusian singer, who Lightman introduced as Haneo Primoc. Primoc spoke into his audicaster with a voice so deep it reminded SF-4738 of holofootage he had seen of Darth Vader, "Ladies and Gentlebeings, in honor of this being the Christian holiday of Easter I brought along my own bunnies."
Two Lepi female fire-baton twirlers emerged from the left side of the stage. Despite their hutt slave-girl inspired outfits and their great skill with their fiery accessories that garnered quite a few jeers and hisses from the gathered audience.
As Haneo Primoc launched into his song about old Coruscant, HF-3105 turned back to JO-3003. "Sounds like True Victory and the Christians have one thing in common. Neither of you is selling out packed theaters these days."
"Better watch that mouth, 3105. I've got boys on Anax too and I bet they know your address." JO-3003 warned. That took some of the wind out of HF-3105's sails as he slumped back in his chair. Some of True Victory's opponents hadn't simply quieted down but had up and vanished off the face of the Orion Spur over the years.
SF-4738 hated politics. It was probably the reason he hadn't been more involved in the veterans' organizations after the war. He felt there was more than enough work in the colonies for those willing to grab it with both hands. The Senate could stuff its handouts up their shebs for all he cared. He tried a softer tact with his old comrade, "So why isn't the Legion pulling more weight in the Senate these days? If I remember right you had nearly thirty troopers holding seats under Prime Chancellor Tanax ten years ago."
JO-3003 sighed. "Stang economy. We came out of that post war recession with more jobs than the Empire really needed. Beings weren't wanting to fight with food in their bellies and most of the kriffing clones out of sight down on their colony. Everyone turned soft and forgot about our sacrifices."
"Yes, but a third of the Empire wore plastoid or Navy grey during the war. That's got to translate into a lot of pull."
"Echuta, Sarge." JO-3003 nodded towards Mahan. "It's his generation. Two-thirds of the Empire was born after the war. Palpatine and Emperor Yos are just figures from a history holodrama to them. They keep coming up with more and more new-fangled nonsense and the Empress eats it up. Democracy, equal-rights for non-citizens and ex-slaves. What's next, droid rights? All they talk about is freedom for everything under the Core. Is that what we fought for? The softening up of the Empire?"
"The boy's got nothing to do with it. Him and his friends live in an Empire we built with our blood on Earth, but that doesn't mean they won't face hardships of their own." SF-4738 said.
"Hard times create strong beings. Strong beings create good times. Good times create weak beings. Weak beings create hard times. That's the way it's been since the days of the Old Republic even." HF-3105 added.
SF-4738 could see they weren't getting through to their ex-squad mate. Some troopers were just bitter with how the war turned out and how the Empire was going. For them, that bitterness was all they had and they held onto it tight.
JO-3003 took the last pull of his Ebla and slammed it down on the table. "What this Empire needs is an enema, or better yet, someone needs to start a war."
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