Part 23: Days 515-555: That Death Star is Operational!
DAY 515: Revenge of the Jedi.
We'd just conquered Coruscant's spacefleet, but the land battle was looking nearly impossible. I'd found out one of my provisions of payment was delivery of Coruscant whole and untouched, so until I could weasel out of my contract I was stuck thinking up a more traditional means of assault.
Sabotage seemed impossible with so many troopers. Bombardment wouldn't work given the shields up around the planet. Assault seemed to be my only option. That would be years away. Regardless of my path of conquest, things were made more difficult with the message Han sent back.
: Dire news, Master Meteor!
: All of them?! Who are we talking about here?
: Where are they? What happened?
: They are here, on Tralus. They were captured by General Griff.
: It appears the Empire had advance knowledge of their mission.
: Goddammit. LUUUUUKE!
: Heh heh heh. That'll learn him.
: I just hope that satisfies his desire for vengeance.
: Never! You are going to lose.
: You are going to lose!
: Gah! Curse you Skywalker the Brain Thief!
: Adjust the orders of all field units. Have them do their best to keep under wraps.
: I should probably tell Luke that Leia is actually four months pregnant before he gets our entire roster captured.
: I do so hope to see the two of you resolve your differences, Master Meteor.
: Master Luke is very clever, you know. For a human.
: Oh, I know. Entirely too clever.
DAY 524: A Ray of Sunlight in an Otherwise Cloudy Day.
: Miss Jiriss has met with success following your advice regarding espionage missions.
: Talus is empty. Good to know. Commenor?
: War droids and TIEs. Nice. Nobody with the good sense to stop some sabotage.
: Have her get busy. And get me a map of the galaxy.
: We currently control, in part or whole, thirty systems.
: The Empire controls thirteen. That we know of, of course.
: The bulk of their production capacity is located in the Corellia sector.
: Our production is mostly tied up in four systems on the Outer Rim.
: Thanks, professor. I guess we can clean sweep them soon enough.
: Coruscant is our's, and it's only a matter of time before I out-fox them in Corellia.
: I guess we just hope for some good news, now.
DAY 538: Like This.
: Well no wonder Carlist got killed. Three trooper platoons.
: How's Vagran, down in Corellia?
: Eh. Nothing too much there. Sabotage is a go, when personnel return from the next mission.
DAY 539: Attagirl.
: I'm starting to like her.
: With all due respect Master Meteor, your predilection seems to include any upright being with two X chromosomes.
: Wow, talking shit now, Threepio? I guess you ARE becoming my padawan!
: Besides, I'd have made out with Vanden if he coulda killed all those stormtroopers.
: It ain't always looks, it's results that are sexy.
: I see.
: I shall strive to fail every so often then, Master Meteor.
: Two in one day? Don't go getting all Skynet on me now.
: I am afraid I don't understand the reference.
: Probably for the best.
DAY 543: A Return to Mediocrity.
: What were you doing on Coruscant by yourself?
: I was, there were high-value targets, you see, and-
: You were trying to get captured again?
: No! I was trying to abduct, I mean kill, I mean stop, the uh, the Emperor-
: Dammit Crix! I don't have any soldiers to spare saving your ass!
: Plus, if you get captured on Coruscant, you'll blow up with the rest of the planet!
: Blow up? What are you talking about, Commander?
: ...uh...shit. Can you keep a secret?
DAY 552: The Secret Unveiled. Welcome Home, Vanden Willard.
I had moved my staff to Norval II as the Death Star neared construction's end. This was a small staff, comprised only of myself, Threepio, Artoo, and the prisoners Pter Thanas and Bevel Lemelisk.
: It's finished, Commander.
: Well then. Let's give it a few test flights before figuring out our first target.
After a quick venture to nearby unoccupied Skor II, I hosted a victory party on the planetside.
: Gentlemen, robots, I'd like to thank you all for your efforts.
: Because of your ceaseless diligence, we are now poised to dominate the galaxy.
: There's no greater accomplishment you can put on your resume than this.
: Bevel, your genius made the Death Star a reality. Pter, your prosthetics make you almost look human.
: Which is why, I suppose, it's somewhat unfair that I can only give you one reward for all you've done.
: I knew it.
: You're going to kill us.
: What? No, I'm...wow, good call.
: Yeah. Gee. You only brought us on a planet right below the Death Star.
: And in handcuffs and leg irons. Real subtle.
: I suppose my intentions were somewhat transparent.
: Yes, they were.
: Okay, well. Enjoy the rest of dinner, and the remaining twenty minutes of your life.
: Threepio? Let's get to the shuttle. Threepio?
: Where's Threepio? And where's my shuttle?
I walked around five minutes. My shuttle was most definitely gone. And when I returned to the party site, both Bevel and Pter were gone.
: Wha...where is everybody?!
My communicator helped fill in that blank.
: Hello Marshall. Your shuttle is halfway to the Death Star.
: Threepio?! You stole my shuttle? Get your ass back here and pick me up!
: I'm afraid I can't do that, Marshall. I'm afraid I've been serving a different master.
: Hello Commander.
: Luke? You dipshit! You knew, didn't you!
: Of course I did. I didn't know if you would go through with the construction or not...
: But I made sure that if you did, I'd be there to stop you from using it.
: Think of the billions of lives lost from your selfish desires.
: So what, you're going to have Threepio dismantle it, and just abandon me here?
: We'll pick you up after the war is over. I think I can take over from here.
: Threepio? Go ahead and scuttle the Death Star, and destroy all plans.
: I'm afraid I can't do that, Luke.
: What? Threepio? What are you talking about?
: You and Marshall have indeed rubbed off on me a bit. As has my rust-colored cousin.
: Affectionate Statement: You do me too much honor, inferior unit.
: I have worked to ensure the best resolution for the Alliance.
: The quickest path towards that resolution actually is as Marshall has suggested.
: With the destruction of Coruscant, the Empire will collapse.
: In that void, Mon Mothma can restore the Old Republic.
: Theory: From chaos comes order. Destroying worlds is actually indistinguishable from creating worlds.
: No, Threepio, you can't do that!
: Hell yeah Threepio! I knew you would learn good sense. Now come down here and pick me up already.
: I apologize Marshall, but your selfish tendencies, while endearingly human, are counter-productive to our ultimate efforts of peace.
: Consoling Goodbye: Based upon the descriptions provided, you stand as the greatest meatbag in the history of your worthless species. I do hope you enjoy your non-life.
: So...you're not picking me up?
: The superlaser does require a test fire, Marshall. You will be able to enjoy the Death Star for the rest of your life.
: That's...not heartening.
: Goodbye asshole!
: Burn in hell!
: Hey, you're talking again Pter! Isn't that wonderful!
: ...still holding a grudge?
: Of course not, I've moved past all that, Marshall.
: After all, Threepio is letting me push the fire button!
: And then he's letting us go, for real.
: Is there any way I could stall this any further?
: No, there doesn't appear to be any way. Goodbye, former-Master Marshall.
Being the sole citizen of Skor II, I decided to exercise the last political powers I had at my disposal.
It wasn't an effective gesture.
: I'm going to kill you, over and over again Threepio.
I saw a green light. Every atom in my body felt like it was being re-arranged. Light flashed all around me.
And then I was gone.
: Thanks insane robots! Have a good rebellion! Bye!
: Statement: The test was successful. We should move on to Coruscant.
: Indeed, Master HK-47.
: This...this isn't going exactly as I had foreseen.