Omake-1

P517 leaned against the wall of one of the watchtowers surrounding the Governor's Tower alongside HY-573, both currently not on duty. So both had their helmets off as they watched (well, HY-573 was napping) the...animal...the Governor had recently purchased bathe in the sun splayed out to a frankly ludicrous length, seemingly content and happy. Both had watched the thing shift this way and that, and it had always done so momentsbefore someone walked where it hadn't been, only to have it suddenly be there and awkwardly tip-toe around the animal to avoid stepping on it and, potentially, angering the Governor.

P517 wondered, for a moment, what that would look like. She had been assigned as part of his bodyguards when he had come out to meet the rioting farmers on his first day, and, back then, she would have been confident someone stepping on the creature by accident would have ended up shot, as most governors would do that.

Then the last eight months happened, and now she was honestly unsure.

Back then, before he had even showed up, she had already had her opinion about him made up; a rich kid from the Core with a silver spoon in his ass since birth kicked out of the academy his mommy was running and then placed in charge of the galactic dumping ground for the empire's idiots, fuck-ups, and political idiots whose first two acts had been to double the local taxes and hire a Twi'lek as his "secretary." If she had had the credits to join the betting pool surrounding Miss Sabrir, she would have bet on her best assets being the ratio of tits, hips, and ass, not her actual competence.

X42-7 was still living it high off getting the entire pool from the Garrison as the only one to bet that way.

So, back then, she had not expected much. She had not expected much when she had seen the kid pretending to be an adult walk around, had not expected much when he had walked into the lobby of the tower when the farmers were rioting due to the taxes, and had expected that he wanted to watch them all being slaughtered.

And then he said a grand total of six sentences, stopped the riot in its tracks and went off to do paperwork.

As in "reviewing the last survey of the entire system" paperwork.

This, she quickly learned, was a slow day for Governor Las Molas.

Because his next actions were to scan the system with the Garrison and MSDF ships for salvage as he negotiated (and wasn't that a weird thing for a governor to do?) with Drillers United to work together to exploit Minda's rich resources.

Instead of selling the belts, asteroids, and claims to the highest bidder, he forced everyone to rent them instead, driving away the galaxy-spanning Corporations who were always eager to cut costs and attracting the eyes of the more minor mining concerns, conglomerates, groups, and wildcats that plied their trade with far more eyes toward efficiency than lowering costs. A choice that resulted in a glut of resources to be available just in time for the refinery to come online after it had been bought by selling "Something" from a crashed Republic Acclamator for enough money the people who knew what that "Something" was shut up like the Inquisitorius was breathing down their necks.

Her money was on a Jedi in a stasis pod.

After that, it seemed that Governor Molas' energy had run out, as he took things slow...as long as you failed to look at the deals with various corporations and local unions, changes in laws, and additions to the infrastructure being made all around the system and the cities like P517 had.

Waking up and having ads play for a new communicator device commissioned by the Governor at the same time as you see LAATs fly through the air and get called up to watch over the transfer of literally thousands of tons of construction equipment generic and specialized was not something one forgets so fast.

And then things went into hyperdrive.

A dozen ships were either bought or commissioned, and construction and renovation work began in Accordia on every building; a massive space station, one capable of refitting, scrapping, and repairing cruiser-sized spaceships, began to be assembled from parts rushed to the system, with, shockingly, scores of new colonists getting dropped off in the newly settled continent of Alhea by the Acclamator that had been made space-capable in that time by the way.

And when clones of all things began stepping into Mindran life, both in police and military positions, she had been as impressed as...unnerved, especially once the clones began training the PDF and more lacking Imperial Soldiers to higher standards.

Life had gotten good, rapidly, and she had been paid to stand around and look sexy (which she did best) for the most part.

But buying ships en-mass, gathering thousands of Clones to begin training locals into soldiers, sourcing resources, and beginning native production across all sectors, with someone even starting the rumor of a military academy for the MS/PDF being planned...

Either Governor Molas had a lot of clout and favors to avoid getting Intelligence crawling up his nostrils for the blatantlyobvious signs of someone preparing for military action, not at all helped by having a vastly outsized Garrison of "dubious loyalty" at hand...or he was aware shit was about to start.

Shit did start.

A Pirate Fleet entered the system, intent on raiding Minda's new riches to the last, and she had been one of the first volunteers when Governor Molas called for them to infiltrate and take out one of the pirate ships from within to distract them while the fleet and SDF crawled up their ass. Life had grown good here, and she wouldn't let some low-born Outer Rim Trash take it all away!

So, she was with Commander Kaela Grant in the container, weapon in hand and violence in mind, and she was at her side throughout the entire clearing of the vermin infesting the ship, letting out her anger at the scum at the same time as she did her duty.

On that note, Commander Grant either needed a year-long sponsored vacation, or to get fucked right and proper, seeing as how she beat that one pirate to death with a door, as impressive as it was. Not P517, though; she didn't stick it in crazy.

Sighing, P517 looked away from the Governor's Pet sunbathing and reached behind her back to take out a ration bar. Thinking always made her hungry. The bar was one of the new ones flavored "BBQ" thanks to Governor Molas' beginning production of "food that doesn't make dust look enticing" for the Garrison. No clue what "BBQ" stood for, but it sure was delicious.

One hand unwrapped the bar while the other held the stick itself, and she looked up again...and blinked.

The animal was gone.

She felt something tug at her hand holding the bar and looked down.

No bar.

She looked up.

The face of the pet stared back at her, ration bar in claw.

Both stared at each other.

And then it took a bite from her bar.