Wrath of the Outer Rim : Episode VII

"You want us to put a Lucrehulk on food hauling?" The Director asked incredulously.

I nodded, unconcerned about his attitude. "Ideally, we'd design a new ship for the task, one with similar cargo capacity, but not as well protected. Less expensive, better suited for the safer agriculture routes. That will take time, however, and will give our rivals time to realize what we're doing and preempt us. We'll need the Lucrehulk to establish the route while we're waiting for our development teams to finish a more appropriate design."

I spread my hands and offered a smile. "I realize food will never be a major source of income for us. It is, however, a consistent one. The easiest way to stimulate any industry is to find a buyer, and there is always a buyer for food. Gentlemen, this is a very long term investment. Agriworlds are almost always poor, they are poor specifically because nobody wants to haul food, not if they can find a better market. They can't afford to start up any industries, or open mines. That, gentlemen, is an opportunity. The more produce they can export, the more money they'll make. Most of that will go into expanding their farms. They'll start growing fruits and vegetables alongside their grains, perhaps a local species, or perhaps a species imported from another planet, and sell those for even more money. Eventually, they'll be able to start importing luxuries. That's where we start making money. We'll create a market."

The Directorate clearly wasn't fully convinced, but I had their attention. "An interesting concept, one I can see working... but the kind of agriworlds you're talking about have very small populations. It will be several generations before they're importing enough luxuries to turn the kinds of profits we're used to."

I felt my smile widen, and I waved my hand towards their holograms in a broad gesture. "Gentlemen. What are you wearing? Are any of you wearing even a single thread of synthweave?"

There was the hook. Synthweave, a broad, catchall term for any fabric synthesized chemically rather than woven from natural materials. There were countless kinds of synthweave, some coarse, ugly, and little better than a tarp, some as soft and luxurious as silk, and there was even military-grade synthweave, meant to resist blaster fire. Usually not very well, merely turning a fatal injury to a crippling one, but the better synthweaves could take one or two blaster hits before the wearer was incapacitated.

The Galaxy's wealthy elite hated synthweave in all its forms.

"Credit crops..." one muttered. "We encourage them to focus on agriculture rather than use their newfound wealth to open factories or mines... they build up capital with food crops, and eventually start growing credit crops."

"Not just fiber crops, but also medicinal plants, dyes... and a lot of them," another continued. Gears were visibly turning at this point, I could tell some of them were already planning budgets.

I let my hands drop down, leaning back now that I had sold them on it. All that was left was to outline the rest of the plan. "Don't forget, they won't be opening their own industries. Not many of them, not when they're making more money selling us the entire lot. We'll take the raw materials, and sell them to a planet that already has the appropriate refineries. Many planetary industries that refine agricultural products end up having to grow it themselves, especially pharmaceutical industries. We may be using orbital facilities for particularly sensitive crops, but that's no reason we can't expand the production of other products. With a source of relatively inexpensive raw materials secured off-world, they can expand their industrial complexes without having to expand their plantations. Naturally, we take the finished product and sell that. Gentlemen, I'm not merely suggesting putting a Lucrehulk on a food route. No, we're going to open new routes, an entire chain of production under our exclusive control."

I could almost see credit signs sparkling in their eyes now.

-----

Months passed. With Naboo's aid, the Hutts were driven off of Ryloth, and the casinos were booming. The actions of Ryloth's militia gained the Twi'leks a reputation as deadly skirmishers and sharpshooters. They were exceptionally fast runners and could run a lot longer than most sentients on top of that. Twi'lek militia squads had gained a reputation for appearing dozens of kilometers behind enemy lines, ripping apart isolated patrols and garrisons, then vanishing like ghosts.

In hindsight, I shouldn't have been so surprised when Twi'lek skirmisher units started showing up in my Trandoshan mercenary companies.

With Ryloth secured, Naboo had begun a highly aggressive campaign against piracy and slavery in the Outer Rim, spearheaded by the Naboo Royal Marines. Separate from both the Royal Army and Royal Navy, the Royal Marines had little in common with traditional Marines on other worlds. Naboo's Marines apparently operated their own fleet of corvettes, hyperspace capable fighters and bombers, and the occasional frigate. They hadn't been present on Ryloth, instead of hitting several pirate outposts the Hutts had been using as staging and supply bases.

The Marine fleet was an impressive one, despite its small size. For starters, they had unmodified N-1 starfighters and NB-1S bombers. Their NC-30 corvettes were a surprise, apparently, they had been part of the same development cycle that had spawned the N1 starfighter, though given lower priority by the Queen's predecessor. After the Naboo Plasma War, Queen Amidala gave finishing the design top priority and diverted considerable resources to do so. The five frigates, on the other hand, were purchased from Corellia. While not the toughest or hardest-hitting ships on the market, they were the fastest, one of the few ships on the market that could keep pace with Naboo hyperdrives. They also had excellent anti-fighter capabilities, making them an ideal match for Naboo bombers.

If Naboo's Navy was to be a hard-hitting assault force, the Marines were an adaptable rapid response force. Naboo was sending their Marines out into the Outer Rim, patrolling the space lanes and scouting for pirate bases. Civilian ships caught in a pirate ambush could expect their distress calls to be answered by a Marine strike force within minutes, planetary homesteaders being hit by slavers would have Marine corvettes unloading troops in the blink of an eye.

The Core Worlds were livid. The idea of a booming outer rim, one that was no longer dependent on the Core frightened them. On the plus side, their outrage over Naboo's actions overshadowed the fact that I had accidentally gotten Jabba nuked, and the Senate quickly forgot the whole thing. On the downside, Palpatine had figured out how to turn this to his advantage.

The old bastard actually condemned Naboo, playing up the fatherly old man act to the fullest. He told everyone he was saddened by how his homeworld had lost faith in the Republic, affirming that no matter the justification, the law was in place for a reason, and no world had the right to take the law into their own hands. He acted shaken that his Queen had not given him a chance to handle Ryloth.

The Core was eating it right up. They latched onto his role and ran with it, calling him brave for daring to stand against his own people to protect the rule of law. Called him a champion of democracy, putting the good of the Republic he served before even his home.

That motherfucker.

A message appeared on my screen, from Kuat Drive Yards.

"Your ships, the TFS Supply and the TFS Demand, are ready and awaiting their crews."