Part 13: Days 235-275: Rebuilding the Troops.
DAY 233: CODA
: WHAT THE FUCK?
DAY 263-275: DRAMA TROOP
I had a bit of a Howard Hughes episode. Artoo and I sat in a room together, I drinking alcohol, and he plugging into power outlets.
Over the next month, some construction had taken place, but few noteworthy missions were carried out. Without me, the nerve center of the Alliance seemed to wither. It was like I was some lynchpin they put all their hopes into.
It takes a strong man not to let that kind of domineering power lead to a sense of megalomania.
: Could somebody pull this dart out of my hippocampus?! Please!? I don't even remember who I am anymore!
Understanding that I was not that man was an important part of my self-discovery. I embraced my intense power, vowing to use it only for good or profit.
: Pleeeeease, it's blindingly painful! With all the agonizing darts in my knees I can't walk OR crawl to the bathroom anymore, I need a bedpan!
It was time for action.
: Threepio, go get some Bothans killed.
: I want those decoys singing! Something like Hi-ho, Hi-ho, it's off to die we go!
: I worry about you, Master Meteor.
: We're still short on troops. Defenders are spread thin, worlds could be invaded by a single dropship of Imperial regulars. Fix it.
: We already have, Commander.
: We've developed the means to give tall gangly aliens advanced weaponry. They are elite units, inspiring fear even amongst our own men.
: First of all, is that a laser cannon pointed at that researcher's head? I approve of that motivational technique.
: Secondly, you finally got me the wookiees with guns?!
: Words cannot describe how disappointed I am right now. Why did I leave my room? I had a nice month-long buzz going.
: That reminds me, Master Meteor. While you were out, we had to rely on other means of sustaining our defenses against constant Imperial intrusions.
: We recruited from populaces you had previously banned from further enlistments. They were apparently very eager for the chance to serve in the military.
: You didn't!
: They did wave their blasters around profusely, promising death to 'The Enslaver'. I had not realized Sullustans were so adamant against the Empire.
:Explain why I shouldn't dismantle you, Threepio.
: Dead Bothans?
: What? What about dead Bothans?
: You got lots of em.
: Okay. I guess that suffices as a mea culpa. Just don't let it happen again.
: Apparently the coagulated sacs of mutant retardation remain clueless regarding my intention to annihilate Crapflaps and her misbegotten mate.
: No harm, no foul. Now, getting back to an earlier point, Old Man Willard failed us spectacularly. We've lost every system except Xyquine in the Correlia sector.
: Do you want him to go elsewhere on diplomatic missions?
: Does that sound like something I'd want? Hell no. Have him start riots throughout that sector. Or die trying.
: The President is a Demmycrat! RISE UP AND SLAY HIM!
: Master Meteor, if there is even one Imperial squad garrisoned there it will likely mean capture and imprisonment for General Willard.
: You're right. His luck can't hold out forever. This'll surely kill him. Thanks for the pep talk.
: I keep getting these weird tremors in the force. The Alliance shifts towards the dark side...
: Our troops have their orders. What will you do now, Master Meteor?
: I think I'll hit the punching bag down in the training room. The training room that definitely never was an isolated interrogation chamber. Which itself hasn't been used, ever, since I got here.
: Seriously, don't go in there.
: I'm afraid I'll never understand human behavior.
: Dweeeet dweet weeoo!
: Oh switch off.