Part 11: Days 155-205: Torture and the Progeny of Crapflaps.
In a sealed-off room in the Rebel's Headquarters...
: Mr. Thanas, I do hope your restraints are comfortable.
: Why am I tied up? I haven't done anything to you! I just want to help people!
: We've gotten to know each other over the past few months, have we not? I have been good to you, yet you have not reciprocated.
: You have illegally imprisoned me without cause, and made outrageous demands regarding intelligence that I cannot provide! Just let me go, please! I have a family back on Corell-
: That will be quite enough, Mr. Thanas. You see? Your job is to talk, and you do talk, but never about what I want to know. Mr. Thanas, it has been made clear you will not willingly provide information on the make-up of the Imperial fleet. I will therefore have to teach you a bit about sports and weaponry.
: What are you doing with that blaster? If you shoot me you won't attain anything but another murder on your conscience!
: Quite right! I don't intend to see you dead, not in the least. R2, please come here.
: Do you see what I've strapped to R2, Mr. Thanas? I don't know if darts is popular here. It's absolutely fascinating to me how such an elegant, skillful game was invented by drunken archers throwing short arrows at casks. It's such a great game to pass the time, drink with friends over.
: You're right, Mr. Thanas. I don't want to shoot you. But I do want you to talk. So it'll be your willpower against my aim with darts. The way I see it, I'm playing cricket, only instead of fifteen through twenty, I'll be aiming ankles, knees, elbows, shoulders, and maybe your ears. R2's got 18 darts on him. After I run out, I'll give you another chance to talk. If you fail again, I'll have to throw again. But I don't think we'll come to that.
: If you try to torture me you'll lose any claim of legitimacy within the galaxy! You could never claim to be better than the Empire!
: Then this will have to be our little secret. Now, let's see if those restraints have enough give to help your knees evade these three darts! I bet you a pint they won't.
: What were you working on, besides waxing your mustache?
: Nyahh ha ha! Why, a facility to train troops faster, of course!
: But I hardly ever build troops. Can't you just focus on better construction yards?
: NOOOOOooo nyah hah haha!
: Fruity bastard.
Narra "participated"? Not true! Saying you were in the Battle of Yavin is like trying to pad your resume with "survived the Alamo". Just don't.
Garm Bel Iblis: Inferior to Luke in every department except in his majestic flowing mane.
I was starting to juggle more and more responsibility. All of it economic, industrial, and personnel-related. I begin to wonder when I'll next see the glorious sight of arterial spray in battle. The memos from researchers and spies continue to pour in.
: Silly Rabbit, Crix is for kids! Let's get to the crix of the matter. Crix or treat!
: Glad you're always so focused, Commander.
: Your request of giving wookiees guns isn't gaining much traction, by the way. Turns out they're mostly still enslaved and disparate.
: Have Chewbacca head the WRP, that should get things going.
: Wookiee Repopulation Project. I think he'll be all for it.
: Wookiees have a generational cycle that extends into decades. I don't think this plan is feasible.
: Fine, fine, then find some other scary looking alien and teach THEM how to use guns.
: Yes Commander.
I had this eerie feeling I would regret this order.
Another note came in later that day.
From what I can gather from these pictures, a probe droid turned into a human and attempted to hit a switch, rather than take and transmit pictures. Interesting choice.
It looked like Praesitlyn was going to be a target for quite some time. The interesting thing was that the button that droid was trying to hit didn't do anything. We just had signs pointing to it labelled "Big Secret Information Button" like we were some Engrish-speaking posse of retards, with alarms, tripwires, and guards stationed nearby. If they were stupid enough to fall for it once...
My eyes gather tears of joy.
Unfortunately, despite my massive industrial base I didn't have the raw material input to make it useful. I would need to start building refineries and mines. Goddammit I hate this job. Oh well, time for the fun part of the day.
: How are you feeling, Mr. Thanas? I assume a mix of pain and admiration for my throwing accuracy.
: *sobbing* Ah Ah! Ahhhhhh! I demand medical treatment! I can still feel every dart as if they were still impacting my tender joints!
: I keep hearing demands, but I don't hear information. R2, load up the darts.
: Fwuuu dwoooo...
: Come now my little companion, he could end this any time by just giving us a few locations and loadouts.
He started screaming through his spittle at this point. I almost felt sorry for the bastard.
: I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! I WAS JUST SENT TO WIN OVER POPULATIONS NEAR CORUSCANT! PLEAAAAAAAASE LET ME GO! *continued sobbing*
: Playing hardball still? You might want to rotate your sensors 180 degrees, R2. This is going to be less pretty than usual.
: YOU'RE SICK! SICK!
: So I think I can clear out cricket with two more elbow shots and one to your left shoulder. And I've decided upon what the bulleye will be. I'm certain that with your imagination, you'll figure it out too before I hit it.
I called it!
"Parents killed by the Empire?" What is this, a bad fanfic backstory? That somehow made her a great leader? Goddammit I hate these losers.
: I've brought another recruit for our cause, Commander Meteor.
: I think I'll forego the typical "looks like you recruited someone for my bedroom" zinger and just question why the hell you keep sending me these useless scrubs who think they can handle a gun or a squad.
: She is a capable leader, and I have confidence you'll find her useful in contested sectors.
: *faint, muffled scream* Heeeellllp!
: ...Hm? Did you say something, Commander?
: Not a thing. Why don't we go to TacCon and figure out what to task Ms. Adamantium with.
AWESOME, Wookiees with guns, on the way!
Yep, Wookiees with...wait, what? Sullustans? What are Sullus...oh God no...
: Mission complete, Commander!
: FUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUUU!
This wasn't as bad as I had feared. When we put them on leashes and utilized their keen sense of smell, they made great spy trackers. We're replacing our dobermans with Sullustans. And by "replacing" I mean "grinding into Sullustan food."
This reeks of bad idea.
A strangely disheveled Leia appeared on my monitor. She looked and sounded like she had just ran a couple miles or something.
What a smooth mother-...just talkin' bout LANDO!
Baron Administrator of Cloud City is one hell of a goofy-sounding title.
He could research facilities. He was instantly my new favorite person in the world.
: Well done Leia. Please notify me if you find another facility researcher who appreciated your knobslobbing.
I am such an under-appreciated personnel motivator.
This was starting to get sad.
I always wondered why he joined us. Was it because the Empire outlawed moustache wax or something?
: Bwahaha! I have constructed this indomitable fortress of doom! From it we shall spawn our incalculably numerous legions of the damned, and conquer this galaxy forthwith!
None of them are useful beyond combat/espionage. Sabotage is nice and all, but would it kill us to have some more diplomats?
New intel came in from the spies.
Stacy Keach on the left, Scarlett Johanson with bad 1980's high school yearbook hair on the right.
So I lost one of my chief researchers. Who was also a combat veteran and accomplished leader. And a general badass. And they didn't even blow up the targeted star destroyer. Outstanding.
MIA: Lost, But Never Forgotten! Hm. I wonder who I was talking about.
My week thoroughly ruined, I resumed reading production and intelligence reports.
I notice some foreshadowing there.
The only alien in the employ in the Empire eh? Well isn't that...
Hey! What did you just say about "only alien"?
Thrawn is a ship researcher. He has apparently been busy, because this scares me.
Sweet heavenly turnip butter! My fighters are doomed!
Luke reeled in a strange catfish this time.
: I guess introductions are in order. Good to meet you, I'm your commander, you can just refer to me as Meteor.
: Bal'a dash, malanore!
: ...what? Luke, what's he saying?
: I haven't been sure, but he's apparently an accomplished diplomat within certain circles.
: Doral ana'diel?
: Somehow communicate him to go somewhere...anywhere else. Maybe send him to waste time with Vanden Willard out in the Corellian sector.
: Al diel shala!
The things I have to deal with...
Queue: It's a trap memes.
He can make me ships. And when we're done with that, I can use him as bait for big game fishing.
Badass. It's like Milla Jovovich and David Arquette are roaming the galaxy with explosive charges.
The announcements coming over Radio Free Corellia were hard to believe, but confirmed: The planet, surrounded by countless forces of the Empire, had declared itself for the Rebel Alliance. I didn't understand how this could happen, or what master negotiator could lead these people to suspect we'd even for an instant be able to immediately protect them from the Empire's wrath.
: DOO HOO HOO! Helloooo!
: Holy shit! Vanden? You did this?!
: I did what? Doo hoo hoo! I've been eating delicious mushrooms and beef jerky for the past three weeks!
: So wait, why did Xyquine join? You've been there for a long time, what changed?
: Are you my son?
: Goddammit I hate you, old man Willard.
Pter Thanas is about to have a new playmate.
Forces gather in Mon Calamari.
He's still not clean, stink of failure remains!
The enemy threatens us incessantly...
And we respond.
We're not any closer to defeating the Empire. Fifty days have passed, and all we have to show for it are new faces and more facilities. Our shipyards have yet to materialize. Our defenses are held by threadbare fighters. Our exploration is dwindling. We have lost a heroic researcher. We are at our darkest hour, and I don't know what we can do to turn the tide.
: If anyone needs me, I'm going to play darts.