Part 12: Days 206-234: Back Into the Grind.

DAYS 206-234

DAYS 206-219: BACK INTO THE GRIND

It'd been two days since thwarting Needa's plans to blow shit up on Mon Calamari.

Retaliation was essential. As they say in The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Pirates, the best defense is killing all your enemies.



: Alright Han, time to play some Smear the Veers.

It was a risky gambit, but one worth taking since their Star Destroyer was tooling around my planets in the sector.



What made it frustrating was being stuck window shopping at all the ugly imperials I'd wanted to savage with unkempt fingernails.



Ugly, ugly imperials. Moe the bartender ugly.

I had to look failure directly in its face, without flinching at the confusingly-arranged hairdo.



I have become numb to flagrant incompetence.

I did take heart, however, in the violence being perpetrated throughout the galaxy on my behalf.



The pins were set up...



...and knocked down.

There wasn't enough violence to go around, however. Targets were scarce and over-hunted by our forces.



They tried their little hearts out. Kill, kill again another day my pretties.

Closer to home, I had a weird fish man-monster wandering around the headquarters, bereft of his one passion in life, starships.

It was time for a Christmas miracle.

: But Commander, my people are Jewish!

Fine, Kwanzaa miracle. Just get to work.



Welcome to Research Station Fishbowl. Seeking to open the bubbling pirate treasure chest since day 218.

And while my frequent re-education sessions with Pter Thanas and Bevel Lemelisk made my cloudy days a little more Sunny-D, it came with political side effects.



And as the reports came back, one general theme grew clear.



All my researchers have mustaches.

That, and the grind was on.

: Can we go home now?! Please?

: Ha ha ha, no.

DAYS 220-234: FACING UGLY TRUTHS (AND UGLY PEOPLE)

: Package for Commander Meteor!




: What's the deal with Veers?

: He's one of their key troop researchers, and an AT-AT commander.

: Aw. Somewhere out there, an AT-AT is a little less loved. Poor . Now I'm sad.

: Oh, and wow. Now that's a beating you put on Veers. Did you really have to render him nigh-unrecognizable?

: Sure did.

: I guy-love you, man.

: I know.

The good news kept coming, I think. We had recruits.




: This is quite fortunate, Master Meteor. Adar Tallon can help innovate our fleet, and Lieutenant Page and Mazer Rackus can provide combat support in the Sluis Van system!

: Ick. It's like the good, the bad, and the ugly.

: Send Tallon to Space Station Fishbowl. I want fish cruisers.

: Send Page to...c'mon, are you serious? Invaluable special forces man? He's like...14. He looks like he'd rather send a spike than be sent to spike someone.

: Actually Master Me-

: And...we're employing a red-eyed alien with pointy teeth and tentacles? With tea saucer forehead implants? And his claim to fame is crashing a plane as a youngster? Did we lose a war?

: Dwee dwoo dwoo!

: Heh heh, totally.

: Don't encourage his xenophobia, Artoo! These are worthwhile contributors to our cause, and it will not do to deride them based upon their appearance or questionable parentage!

: You know what Creepio? You're right. Assemble Team Ugly.

: It's time we used our greasy, slimy, smelly troops as an asset for a change.



: And where shall they go?

: Dwee reeeo!

: Artoo! The center of the nearest star is most certainly not an adequate destination!

: I have a simple advancement system in place. If you make me laugh, you get a promotion. Threepio, promote that droid.

: And send Team Ugly to blow stuff up or recon or something, I don't care.

: You don't care? I don't understand sir.

: You typically are very enthusiastic, borderline gleeful about the details of xenomorphic missions with a high probabilty of death.

: Normally yeah, perhaps I would. But I've just gotten some important information from that everlastingly smooth brother Lando Calrissian.

: What information would that be, Master Meteor?

: I don't really consider it information, I consider it my birthday present.



: I'm all tingly!

: I'll fetch the shampoo.

: No! It's the other kind, the good kind, the tingling of inevitable triumph.

: The tingling that all the powers in this godforsaken galaxy will come to bow to my industrial might within the next half-year.

: It's an amazing sensation of confidence and power the likes of which I've never yet come to appreciate.

: I'll fetch the shampoo.

: Have Dantooine develop into the new Advanced Construction Yard center. Switch over from the old to the new. Have R&D focus on Advanced Shipyards.

: Plan: Overwhelm Those Bitches is now 33% complete.

: And yeah, fetch the shampoo. I'll kill those tiny bloodsuckers yet.