Galactic Standard Date 4/11/15, morning. In his capacity as Max's head of security, Christopher Rane formally filed a complaint and a protest with the Coruscant police—complaining about their inaction, and protesting the unfair treatment their side had suffered.
Max knew perfectly well that, in terms of influence, he was nowhere near Ziro Desilijic Tiure—former member of the Grand Hutt Council and a Master of the Hutt Clan.
A mere complaint and protest was never going to make a Coruscant police department—fat and complacent on Ziro's "generosity"—launch a real investigation into what happened last night on Level 1313.
But that was exactly what Max wanted. Stall it out. The police wanted to drag their feet, and so did he.
Lord Figg had been operating in Coronet City for over half a month already. Drag it out a few more days—just until they reached a deal over there—and Max would immediately "take unbearable offense," "get angrier the more he thought about it," and "storm off" with the whole delegation, withdrawing from Coruscant. Then he'd move fast and announce Beshpin's accession—as an autonomous territory—into the Corellian Republic.
Billy Williams's team had submitted a pie-in-the-sky version of a five-year economic and social development plan for Beshpin, emphasizing that over the next five years, Beshpin's autonomous government would add 30 billion Galactic Republic credits to the Corellian Republic's GDP, 4.5 billion in tax revenue, and six million jobs.
With that—and with Lord Figg's pull plus Senator Leiv Galamby's political capital—Beshpin's accession to the Corellian Republic would be smooth sailing.
"Three days off. Everyone's free to arrange your own activities." In Conference Room 20 of Republic Executive Building 500, Max swept a hand through the air. "Ten thousand credits each for expenses!"
"Wooo!" // "C-Commander Vizsla—long live—!" // "This is the Way."
The Beshpin delegation erupted in cheers.
"Alright, alright." Max pressed both hands down and called out, "Go see Officer Williams and collect your credits. Dismissed!"
But Max himself didn't get the relaxed, carefree three-day Coruscant tour he'd been hoping for.
The moment he returned to his suite from the meeting room, the Cloud City routed through a hyperwave call from Beshpin Mandalorian Armed Forces General Staff Headquarters.
"Then we fight!" Max slammed a fist down onto the desk. "Hit hard once, and you won't be forced to throw a hundred more punches later!"
"Sir…?" Lisa mumbled sleepily. After the all-night chaos, she still hadn't gotten up, even close to midday.5
"It's nothing. Go back to sleep." Max gave Lisa a gentle caress through the Force, then continued into the comm. "Any enemy bold enough to come at us—make it hurt. Make them afraid. If the first fight is clean and decisive, it scares off all the scavengers watching from the shadows. If it isn't, Beshpin won't have a peaceful day again."1
"Fight well. When I'm back, we celebrate!" After a few words to bolster morale, Max ended the call.
The hyperwave came directly from Chief of the General Staff Michael Saxon. Per his report, in recent days, unidentified ships with suspicious behavior had been appearing on the outskirts of Beshpin's gravity well. Each time Army Aerospace fighters moved to close, the unknown vessels jumped to hyperspace and slipped away.
In Michael Saxon's judgment, those ships were likely conducting reconnaissance and probing runs against Beshpin, and further hostile action might follow.
The General Staff had predicted this even before the Beshpin delegation departed—and had already drafted a complete response plan. The only reason Michael Saxon still made the hyperwave call was because Max himself demanded it: he wanted the posture on record. He wanted the attitude clearly displayed.
Max was certain someone was monitoring this suite—he wasn't shadowboxing with thin air.
"Sir, are you done?" Lisa asked, her eyes still hazy with sleep. "What time is it…?"
"A little after ten." Max sat on the edge of the bed, smiling as he patted her. "Up already—sun's practically on you."
In truth, for Lisa, ten in the morning was prime sleeping hours. For over a year, she'd lived a nights-and-days-reversed life. But with Max urging her, she obediently sat up and prepared to get out of bed and wash up.
"Ding." Max rang the service bell from across the room. "Come help Miss Lisa wash up."
"Yes." // "Sir, you don't have to—"
"Relax." Max waved it off. "Things are different now. Enjoy it."
Once Lisa and the Twi'lek rainbow crew went into the bathroom, Max didn't relax at all. Lisa wasn't one of his Mandalorian women-at-arms—could material comfort alone guarantee her loyalty? Was it really the right call to develop her into the one running the Crazy Horse Club?
His gaze fell on the green kyber crystal pendant by the bed, and Max sank into thought.
"This was what my father gave my mother—his pledge." Fresh from her bath, Lisa slipped the necklace back around her neck and leaned in close. "Is it pretty?"
"Let me see." Max lifted her onto his lap and examined it carefully. "Yeah. It's beautiful."
"This pendant was colorless—clear—originally. Then, one day fifteen years ago, it suddenly burst with green light and lit up the whole room. After that, the clear pendant became this green, transparent state. That day… it never lit up again. And Mom and I never heard from Dad again. W—"
As she spoke, Lisa began to choke up—and inside Max's head, a tidal wave rose.
("Fifteen years ago… 11Brs—forty-six years before the Battle of Yavin in the original timeline. A father who vanished without a trace… was he crew on that fleet?!")4
"Last year… w—when I graduated, before I came to Coruscant to work… Mom gave me this necklace. She said it was kyber… that Dad gave it to her as a charm to keep her safe… She said the Force would protect me. W— It's all a lie. All of it. A charm, the Force—fake. It didn't protect Dad. It didn't protect Mom. It didn't protect me either. W—"
Lisa burrowed into Max's chest, wrapping both arms and legs around him like a koala clinging to a tree, and began to sob.4
"Hey… it's alright. It's alright."
Max stroked her back the way you soothe a skittish cat, until she slowly calmed, until the trembling stopped.
Still nestled against him, Lisa's hand grew restless, tracing circles and squares on his back. She looked up and asked, "Sir… when we came back last night, was that a warship? My dad… he used to fly warships."
Before he could stop it, Max's whole body shuddered.
"That wasn't a warship," he said. "It was a heavy starfighter—a Kom'rk-class."
"Sir… are you ticklish?"
"Yeah."
...........................
PS: There's a popular estimate floating around on foreign sites that the Galactic Republic's annual GDP is only about 2 to 2.5 trillion credits. The author personally can't make sense of it. Coruscant alone has over one trillion permanent residents—there's no way the total output would be that low.7
If you want to talk GDP in the Star Wars setting, you're welcome to drop by the reader group and discuss it!
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🛡️🔥🌌 STAR WARS: THE RISE OF MANDALORE 🌌🔥🛡️
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🚨 FOR MANDALORE! 🚨
The clans are stirring.
The armor remembers.
And Mandalore will rise again.
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⚔️ Mandalorian warriors🔥 Clan warfare🚀 Galactic conflict🌌 Star Wars worldbuilding👑 Power & leadership💥 Massive battles🛡️ The resurgence of Mandalore
The galaxy has seen Mandalore shattered before.
But broken does not mean defeated.
🔥 A people forged in war can rise from the ashes.
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This is the way.
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