Part 5: Days 44-87: Working with the Freaks You're Given.

DAYS 44 TO 87

DAY 44



They've arrived!



They've departed! Han, Chewie, and Wedge have anyway. I figure the Sluis Van sector is going to be the most hotly contested of the core sectors, they could use as much firepower as I can spare. Since Mon Mothma sucks at life, including finding newbies, I put Luke and Leia to work recruiting me some more bantha fodder. Haha, their slang is HILARIOUS.

DAY 46

General Robert E. Lee arrived at Mon Calamari to start with the diplomatizing. I do declare.



DAY 49

Shit.



DAY 62



Luke and Leia both failed to recruit anyone after two and a half weeks. I wasn't surprised by this, they didn't really leave their chambers much the entire time. Recruitment is heavily fueled by personal interactions, face-to-face meetings, and working together. Just staying together in their communal room the entire time, I wonder what they were thinking? The fact I agreed to let them share quarters to 'facilitate recruiting' should have raised a flag. That the maintenance droid constantly complained about needing to seperate their twin beds to finish cleaning their floor should have lit another light bulb. I'm going to have to remind them on the Alliance's fraternization policies the next time I catch them tonguing in the hallway when they think they're alone.

In any case, I've decided to separate them. Luke remains to recruit, while Leia is going to help diplomatic efforts on the systems near Triton. We'll need to start strip-mining some planets for resources sometime in the future, and the sooner we fool the residents into signing away those resources the better.



DAY 63

The HappyParachute Fleet is exploring the Churba sector for more viable planetoids. The first system explored was a bust, but next up is Bespin. I hear good things about its administrator and his favorable policy towards the smooth taste of Colt .45's.

DAY 64

Mon Mothma has lost it. I think she's gotten so demoralized by her lack of recruiting prowess that she foisted her elderly father upon me, disguising the poor codger as a military adviser. I think he has dementia.



: So, Mr. Willard? What skills would you say you bring to the Alliance?

: My garden has the biggest tomaters you ever did see! Gawsh it was just LOADED with juice and seeds! I remember planting tomaters with my son thirty years ago. We'd always run out of water and have to go ask the moisture farmers next door for some. That was how we ended up with this bucket, because one time we forgot to return it! So since then I carry it with me, and that's how I ended up piloting a freighter during the Clone Wars.

: Outstanding. Threepio, please escort Mr. Willard to the next shuttle for Dantooine. Let's let him ramble on there.

I couldn't tell if those were vomit or fecal stains on his fuzzy slippers. The smell made it far too foul to tell.

DAY 66



Score! Triton now has three yards. The industrial revolution begins. Time to begin building MANY construction yards on nearby Chalcedon. From there, the Empire's doom shall grow. Huh. Empire's doom...that'd make a kickass band name.

DAY 68

I tried being nice, and understanding, and merciful. I am nearing the end of this.



: Threepio, order Crapflaps to a hunger strike.

: Sir, Admiral Neva's species can survive an estimated five days without food.

: Interesting. Send me day-by-day photos so I can laugh as she dies. Actually, I'm not that strong. Hire an assistant to look at the photos and describe them to me.

: Is there no end to this, Master Meteor?

: Nope.

DAY 72

Today was huge



okay self breath breath breath breath out breath in breath out settle down I will not cry dammit I will not cry



oh shit oh shit oh shit YES YES oh god life has meaning again...

: Sir, two Bothan decoys perished to bring these intel reports to us.

: Who cares! Happydance! Look at that! We've found Vader! We've found Pter Thanas completely defenseless near...oh shit CALL OFF CRAPFLAP'S STARVATION! If she can capture him, I'll promise not to be mean to her for like a week.

: I do wish I could believe that this time, Master Meteor. Here are the intel reports on the production of Sullust, as well as information on Pter Thanas and the two mercenaries with Vader.



: "Commander Pter Thanas is nevertheless among the kindest of those who follow the will of Emperor Palpatine"? Kindest? Wow, I hope Crapflaps 'accidentally' kills him. Let me know when Han and company get to Mon Calamari, I'll send them to go screw with the Imps on Sullust. We have to stop their troop build-up, soon as possible.

: Understood, Master Meteor.

DAY 73

Today started off quietly enough. I got a good report from the CKitten out in the Churba sector. It found an empty planet with good energy stores. When we get our production apparatus underway, I'll send some construction yards out there, providing another avenue of attack on Coruscant, as well as a backup plan should Triton need to be evacuated.



Damn. That last paragraph makes me sound half-competent.

Then came the missive from Mon Mothma.



Ever one to greet every soldier not as ugly as Crapflaps personally, I went to visit the new recruit. While his information sheet has him looking something like this...



...I was somewhat perplexed to find a toady-looking blob that looked like this...



Weird. Maybe it was just the lighting.

: So, Orrimarrko is it? Glad you decided to join our cause. Your bio says you're an expert at infiltration and sabotage, so you'll primarily be working in Mon Calamari with our heavy hitter squad, taking out high-value targets.

: Oh, I would be most pleased to, CAPTAIN SULLY, but I'm afraid that in my injured condition I cannot leave this room. I would be most grateful if you were to simply go away. I need to recover my strength.

: Please, call me Master Meteor. It's grown on me. And don't shovel that injured shit on me, you're only good to me active and killing, so get out there and start killing.

: Well, I can't ignore an invitation like that! GO PLAY FREEZE TAG WITH DARTH VADER.

: What? Why...hey...things are...getting dark...

???

: ...in addition, your refusal to answer our transmissions is taken as an insult which shall earn you the reward of death unless you respond immediately!

: Hey!? Where am I?

: Your insubordination is intolerable! You MUST obey the Imperial laws, or face our gruesome punishment!

: Why does my head hurt?

: You forget that the consequences of your misbehavior will cause great suffering for your entire Alliance.

: Wow!? Where did the last two weeks go?

: We have been lenient with you rebels, because you are so weak. Now this attitude has changed. You WILL be utterly destroyed with the power of the Dark Side of the Force!

: Whoa! I must have been under some form of weird mental compulsion.

: WHAT DID YOU SAY?! COMPULSION!? WHAT HAPPENED?! EXPLAIN!

: It was this ugly little guy back at...uh...Tatooine. Yes, Tatooine, that's the ticket. He did it!

: WHAT DID THE CREATURE LOOK LIKE?!

: He resembled a large, brown amphibian. Mixed with a turd.

: A Dynarri with Force Compulsion powers! This is grave news indeed, the worst in millenia! Rebel Captain! You have done a service for us greater than you can possibly imagine. Your reward is continued survival, and if you return to Coruscant and throw yourself at the mercy of my master and disband your pitiful Alliance, we may yet abolish punishment against you and your Alliance. Now leave!

: Woop woop woop woop!

I scuttled my way back from Sullust to nearby Sluis Van. I sent a message off to Threepio, as his droidy nature renders him immune to mind control, instructing him to send "Orrimarrko" off to attack Coruscant. I figure the best way to do that is shove in an escape pod, point it at Coruscant, and wave goodbye. Either he subjugates the whole planet, God help us, or the Emperor can kill him. Either way, he's out of my hair. I better start heading back. Threepio and R2 probably won't fuck things up too bad while I'm gone. Hopefully if the Empire were to eventually send it's entire fleet to Triton and blow up the HQ, they better do it before I get there.

DAY 84

Home again home again, jiggity-jig. It's probably not good that Threepio is power-shuffling towards me.

: MASTER METEOR! It's so good you've arrived! We've had a problem! We've lost another Bothan spy while gathering intel on Sullust.

: ...Your point? Did they get more data?

: Well, yes Master Meteor, three did return with information. We've located Bevel Lemelisk on Sullust!



: So?

: So? Master Meteor, he's the brightest scientist of the Empire! We believe he is the one who developed the Death Star! Here is the report on him, sir.



: That's no problem. He looks like a nerd. Let's send some hired goons after him.

: Hired goons?

: Hired goons?

: Hired goons.

DAY 85

The CKitten continues its five year mission, boldly going wherever the hell I tell it to.



Crazy Uncle Willard has babbled his way to the inner council of neutral Dantooine.



In order to retain my sanity, I convinced myself that this must have been a planet of retards.

DAY 86



Hired Goons.

DAY 87

Luke looked kinda pissed, I'd go so far as to suggest blue-balled, but he still delivered some good news.



Who? That wasn't important though. Han sent word he reached Mon Calamari.



And then the bombshells started dropping.





I fell out of my chair. I was scared. It HUNTED. It tasted MANFLESH. It would seek revenge. I must supplicate myself to the horrible Crapflaps lest it devour my soul!

: Threepio, send a hallmark card that says "I'm Sorry..." on the front to Crapflaps.

: Master Meteor, that is a decidedly decent thing to do! She has achieved an incredible victory for the Alliance, removing one of their key diplomats from service!

: On the inside page, put "that you're so damn ugly". Have her bring his injured ass back here, I think we could use an interrogation.

: Yes sir. I tell you R2, if I were to have been born with a soul I would feel it dying a little every day.

: Dwooo...