If you start from the outcome and "reason your way backward," you can make almost anything sound airtight. And sure enough, Raith Sienar got completely bluffed by Max Vizsla's calm certainty.
"So," Max asked, "what price did you quote the Judicial Department for your Marauder-class corvette?"
"Five million Galactic Republic credits per ship."
"And do you know what Rendili StarDrive quotes for its advanced refit Dreadnaught-class heavy cruiser?"
"Fifteen million credits per ship."
Max spread his hands and shrugged. "That's your answer."
"Huh?" Sienar looked genuinely lost.
"To build one advanced refit Dreadnaught, Rendili's real cost is roughly ten million. They sell at fifteen, so they pocket five million gross per hull. And out of that five million, three to four million goes right back up the Judicial Department's chain as 'incentives.'" Max tipped his chin at Sienar. "How much can you offer?"
"Wait—what? That's… that's not—" Sienar flailed with both hands, then went quiet.
Raith Sienar was a genius, but not a universal one.
When he was young, he'd idolized the fearless hyperlane pathfinders of the Republic's golden age—diving into unknown space, charting new routes, scouting new systems worth exploiting.
At twenty, his father, Narro Sienar, dragged him back and forced him into the family business, appointing him CEO of Sienar Technologies, a subsidiary under Republic Sienar Systems.
And Raith did take up the burden of succession—just in a way Narro and the entire Sienar family never anticipated.
He built a stack of false identities. Using them, he infiltrated major competitors as a deep-cover "employee," learning their industrial methods from the inside: Corellian Engineering Corporation, Baktoid Armor Workshop, Incom, Haor Chall Engineering, and more.
During his time embedded at Haor Chall Engineering, his cover was compromised—and the Xi Char came after him with a vengeance.
He escaped by using a black hole he'd discovered years earlier but never reported, shaking his pursuers and making it back to Sienar space. The Xi Char didn't stop.
In 38 BBY, they ambushed a Sienar family ship near Dantooine (chart coordinate: L-4). Raith survived again. Narro Sienar did not.
After that ambush, Raith inherited his father's position and became CEO of RSS.
The price of those infiltration years was brutal, but he came back with real knowledge. Drawing on what he'd learned across multiple design cultures, he soon produced a string of standout industrial masterpieces: high-performance ion drive engines, the Sith Infiltrator Scimitar, and the Marauder-class corvette.
A technical prodigy—who had never had the slightest interest in studying how people actually moved power around.
"So I should quote ten million, then kick six or seven million back to the Judicial Department, and that's how I win the contract?" Sienar asked bitterly.
Max gave him a slow, knowing smile—and shook his head.
"Then why?" Sienar's brow furrowed.
"One," Max said, lifting an index finger. "Fifteen million for a six-hundred-meter cruiser, versus ten million for a two-hundred-meter corvette. To the average voter, the cruiser still sounds like the better deal."
"But the Marauder isn't a normal corvette," Sienar protested. "It's a corvette with cruiser-grade firepower—"
Max cut him off with a small wave. "You know that. I know that. The Judicial Department might even know that. The public doesn't. Big ship means strong. Small ship means weak. Rendili's kickbacks are 'safe'—everyone expects that game. Yours? Taking them could feel dangerous."
"Two." Max raised two fingers. "The advanced refit Dreadnaught has a crew complement of twenty-two hundred. What's the Marauder's complement?"
Sienar's eyes lit up. "One hundred twenty-nine. Fielding Marauders cuts manpower requirements and labor costs—"
"And then what?" Max asked. "How does that help the Judicial Department?"
Sienar's words stuck.
Max's mouth crooked a little further. "Bigger crew complements mean more room for payroll ghosts. That's what they're protecting."
Sienar blew out a long breath and gave a humorless laugh. "This is more complicated than shipbuilding."
"Shipbuilding advances technology," Max said, then pivoted smoothly into the point. "Your Marauder is a good ship. If the Judicial Fleet won't buy it, I will."
That made Sienar visibly brighten.
Part of it was pride—recognition for his work. But Raith wasn't just a designer anymore. He was the helmsman of the Sienar family and RSS, and Max's order was the kind of lifeline that mattered when you were keeping factories running.
"Vizsla—on top of the Judicial quote, I'll give you an additional two hundred thousand credits off per hull."
"No," Max said, waving him down. "I'm adding one million. I'll buy at six million per ship."
Sienar blinked. "Why would you—"
"First," Max explained, "my order isn't remotely the size of a Judicial procurement package. Initial batch: eight ships. How many follow-on hulls come after that? I can't promise yet."
"I understand," Sienar said, nodding. "And I appreciate the support."
Eight is eight, he thought. Keep the line alive, find more small buyers, stack orders until they're real.
"Second," Max continued, "the ship I want needs further changes."
"Go on," Sienar said, gesturing.
"First change: the inertial compensation system. When this ship pulls hard maneuvers, the felt G-load is still too high. You—no offense—looked rough. That's not sustainable in prolonged combat."
"It's already being addressed," Sienar said quickly. "This is a prototype. Based on test data, the production configuration will have a more efficient inertial compensator."
"Good," Max said. "Second: shrink the hangar, and use that volume to install a heavy ion cannon."
Sienar frowned. "If you insist, it can be done. But I have to warn you—fighters play an enormous role in fleet actions."
"Noted," Max replied, polite and firm. "In my doctrine, the Marauder will specialize in anti-ship work. The fleet will include dedicated carriers to operate alongside it."
"That can work," Sienar conceded, still reluctant. "But it means the Marauder can't operate independently."
"Sienar," Max said, "no single hull—no single class—wins every fight by itself."
"You're right," Sienar said, nodding hard. "But my recommendation is: don't add an ion cannon. Add another turbolaser cannon of the same model as the wingtip guns."
"Why?" Max asked.
"Ion cannons have different bolt velocity and ballistic characteristics than turbolasers. If you add an ion cannon, you need an additional targeting and fire-control suite. If you add another turbolaser of the same type, it's just a matter of mounting the gun."
"At the same power tier, turbolasers don't strip shields as well as ion cannons," Max said, rubbing his chin. "Can we fit two matching guns?"
"Volume, yes," Sienar said. "But power generation and heat rejection become the limiting factors."
…
After a round of detailed tradeoffs, Max signed a contract onboard the ship: eight improved Marauder-class corvettes. He transferred 48 million Galactic Republic credits to RSS's corporate account on the spot.
The Bespin-variant Marauder would measure 195 meters long, 131 meters in beam, and 30 meters tall. Its propulsion package would combine sublight engines with a Class 2 primary hyperdrive and a Class 12 backup hyperdrive.
Armament-wise, it would mount three superheavy turbolaser cannons—two on the wing tips and one on the ventral hull. It would also carry four twin light turbolaser mounts (two each covering fore, aft, port, and starboard arcs), two concussion-missile launchers, and three tractor-beam projectors.
A corvette armed to the teeth.
"Sienar," Max said, shaking his hand, "if you can figure out a way to train bright but uneducated recruits to operate a Marauder within two or three years, I can add at least one more zero to the scale of this contract."
"Uneducated recruits?" Sienar echoed. "How can someone be brilliant and still uneducated?"
"Because not everywhere is as developed as the Core Worlds," Max said with a thin smile. "Out on the frontier, there are plenty of worlds where locals never had formal schooling. Smart is smart. But without education, they still can't read procedures, manuals, or schematics."
"So what are you proposing?"
"Credits matter, but personnel matter more," Max said. "If RSS can turn raw talent into functional Marauder crews in two to three years, I'll add at least eighty more Marauders."
Sienar's interest sharpened. "If they really are that capable… I'd like to try."
"Great. This month I'll send a transport of candidates. If it works, I'll start shipping people in batches. Once they graduate, they fly the new hulls back themselves."
"Agreed," Sienar said, clasping Max's hand with both of his. "I look forward to your… large order."
"Large?" Max patted his hand. "This isn't large. If this training pipeline works, I've got a real project we can partner on afterward."
Sienar's eyes gleamed.
PS: The Xi Char of Charros IV (chart coordinate: R-9) devoutly follow the Haor Chall faith, dedicating themselves completely to religion. Haor Chall doctrine holds that all life is a shadow of the paradise of the afterlife, believing that creating machines is a way to glimpse the afterlife.
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GAME OF THRONES: SECRETS BENEATH THE DREADFORT
🏰🩸 GAME OF THRONES: SECRETS BENEATH THE DREADFORT 🩸🏰
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📢 DARK SECRETS RISE IN THE NORTH! 📢
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Beneath the Dreadfort, old horrors stir.
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❄️ The North remembers.🏰 The Dreadfort hides.🩸 And some secrets should have stayed buried.
Uncover what lies beneath before anyone else does.
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