Part 17: DAYS 367-396: Luke Is A Problem.
DAY 367: Revisiting Days 358-366.
In my eagerness to host a one-year anniversary of taking over and its subsequent party involving getting plastered off spice with hookers, I noticed a few reports left unopened from the preceding ten days. I figured I might as well leaf through them.
: So Luke only made positive gains because the mission he was on with Han failed?
: That's messed up.
: The ways of the Force are mysterious.
: GYAH! What...where the...how'd you sneak up on me like that?
: Cloaked in mystery are the ways of the Force.
: No, seriously, you were like three sectors away from me 9 days ago.
: The mysterious ways of the Force ar-
: Okay...getting kinda redundant there.
: I can kill you with my mind.
: So, good job on that Force thing.
: Thank you.
: Intending to get back to work any day soon, jedi-wannabe goatfucker?
: What? Used to be a farmer. Probably had goats. I thought it...ah, just go to hell.
: Dweoo boo dwee.
: Nah, he doesn't have the balls. Pas de huevos.
: Besides, I'll keep him so busy with missions he'll never get the free time to plot against me or increase his skill with the Force.
: Dweeep dwoo reeeeoo.
: Eh, what do you know, you overgrown rancor vibrator. What else did I miss over the past week?
: WHAT THE FLYING MONKEYFUCK?
: Why didn't anyone TELL me about this?
: There was a bit of confusion abou-
: God, shut up! Almost a week lost, we could have been BUILDING. GO! BUILD!
: Yes, Master Meteor.
Chalcedon is near Triton, on the Outer Rim. And it is now the war's win button.
: Terrible news, Master Meteor!
: Leia's bearing her brother's child, a misbegotten creature doomed to making snorting sounds while breathing and perpetually smelling like bad cheese?
: Er, no, it's about the Corellian Corvette Sad King Billy. It took your berating rather poorly after its recent retreat...
: But they WERE like shriveled sexual organs, fleeing like a Frenchman in the face of the slightest danger.
: ...and decided to retake their pride with an unordered attack on Sullust.
: Hmm. Interesting. Are they all dying?
: Why is space periwinkle? Did someone paint space recently?
: The picture quality is regrettable Master Meteor, but it does show the Sad King Billy surrounded on all sides by TIEs.
: We got advanced shipyards coming. We would probably be better off with fewer old junkers.
: Master Meteor! Those men are putting the lives at risk to support the Alliance! They need support.
: They do?
: They took out eight TIE fighters without much damage. Dunno if that's the definition of needing support. Maybe it does have a place my future utopia.
: Have it rain fire. We shall not suffer a Sullustan to live!
: Okay, that ship? It gets promoted to Awesome King Billy.
: New plan time! Get EVERYONE on that ship, and start sabotaging and kidnapping like it's going out of style!
: Phew. All this tactical thinking's got me hungry. Threepio, go get me a sandwich.
: Er, yes Master Meteor. All your special forces are travelling to the Sad King Billy. What kind of sandwich did you desire?
The first of the missions launched and returned in a day. I almost blinked and missed it.
: Results, I like! Send her out again!
: She is likely fatigued by the hunt, Master Meteor. Perhaps it would be best to wait a week or two.
: Nah, screw that, send her back out. I've found if you don't push people, they'll never fall into the pool. Or slip on the tiles next to the pool and break their hip.
Science! Industry! The World of Tomorrow, Today! I just wanted some good ships for a change.
: Told you so, gaybot.
The days passed, and missions went and came back with regularity. Explosions rocked Sullust constantly, and the spate of kidnappings had the Imps running scared. Then one day it happened.
: Hey, asshole, the Force thinks you suck.
Every Imperial we knew about on the planet was gone. There had to be more, but we hadn't found the right rocks to turn over yet. We couldn't quite plan an invasion or revolt yet without knowing all the facts. Espionage was our only plan. The brief offensive was fun while it lasted.
: So they have less offensive power than X-wings, with no torpedoes.
: Yes Commander, but more speed.
: ...and? They get to go die faster?
: I'm afraid you don't seem to understand the value of speed or agility in combat.
: No, I do. It's zero. Get the fuck out and find me something GOOD.
Found you, you pathetic Fett fanboy.
: Bortras, eh? Another system near Coruscant goes to us. Either they know we have a hidden shipyard center under construction, or they're retarded.
: Bweeep doo weeoo tweet?
: Maybe, but I really doubt the Imperial's anti-homosexuality policy is the central force pushing planets to our side.
: What? What did Artoo say?
: He called the planet a ragtag collection of faggotry.
: How do you know that when I don't?
: It's all about context. He uses that phrase a lot to describe you.
: Why that malfunctioning bucket of bolts!
: Yeah, he's my favorite now too. I sorta feel bad for the who mobile toilet thing back in my first few weeks here.
: Make way, hero coming through!
: Dammit Han, could you be a little less dreamy, I'm about to swoon here!
: Keep it under wraps Nancy, I've got more work to do.
: Yessir, you go do that work you do.
: My power grows daily. I sense something pulling...calling me.
: I sense a great power in the Force speaking to me. His name is Yoda. I must go and learn from him.
: Always a master and a student, the way of the Sith, eh?
: What? No, it's not-
: Whatever, the answer is no. You're needed to blow stuff up here.
: But COMMANDER!
: No buts! Now go to your room.
: *grumble* *grumble*
: Hah. Stupid farmboy.
: *WHINE WHINE WHINE*
: *BITCH BITCH BITCH*
: *MOAN MOAN MOAN*
: *WAH WAH WAH*
: GET THE FUCK OUT.
: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.