Wine, old friends and old storys

Two weeks after Tanya Degurechaff declared Eriadu her government's capital, the planet was buzzing with activity. Trade boomed, immigration soared, and envoys from various planets and companies started flocking to the new seat of power.

A large spaceship descended towards the planet, carrying Skakoan, a former member of the Techno Union. He stared down at the bustling scene, his voice low and modified by his off-world apparatus.

"Tanya Degurechaff," he said, as he adjusted his speech apparatus. His voice had a bristled effect. He was an enigmatic figure who walked with purpose.

"I hope I am on time for our meeting," he replied and he walked off.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draneir sat in a bar, surrounded by his closest friends from the Perseverance: Leo, the ship's fire control officer; Breum, the communications officer; and Larei, recently promoted to Commander. While Draneir might have requested these specific crew members out of friendship, he also valued their skills, considering them integral parts of the Perseverance's machinery.

Leo, a slightly built man with short blond hair and green eyes, took a sip of his beer and brought up the rumors surrounding Tanya. "Some say you and Tanya are... involved. Any truth to that?"

Breum, a muscular, bald man with brown eyes and a bushy beard, chimed in, "He's probably a closet case."

Larei, a woman with long brown hair and red eyes, added, "If so, I'll offer my services for a promotion."

Draneir shook his head. "I wouldn't touch her even if I could. A rat from Coruscant's underbelly has no business with someone like her."

Tanya had always represented something unattainable to Draneir, a love he could never pursue.

Leo, intrigued by the rumors, asked, "Some say Tanya and Lord Vader were inseparable. Any truth to that?"

Draneir, clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning, dismissed their inquiries. "I know nothing of their private affairs. However, I won't tolerate your slanderous accusations. Imply that she is a nymphomaniac or a prostitute again, and you'll regret it."

Under Draneir's steely gaze, his friends backed down, their curiosity unsatisfied.

"But who would make up such lies?" Breum wondered. "Rumors rarely spread without some truth or outside influence."

Larei laughed. "Think, Breum. Tanya's a known reformer and liberal, a close friend of Lord Vader's. The reactionary and conservative factions within the Empire fuel the rumors. They want to discredit the reformist movement and strengthen their own position."

Draneir agreed, finishing his ale and leaving credits on the table. "I have work to do, unlike some of you," he said, rising from his chair. He waved goodbye, his friends responding in kind. Draneir then began his walk around Eriadu.

The Captain gazed upon the new Capital of the Galactic South and saw the true effects of the galaxy laid out before him, the Empire was crumbling and being picked apart by opportunistic traitors. The Emperor was gone, Lord Vader was gone, the Moff Council sent them down here to act as bait and die against the rebels, but they were loyal to the Empire and would do their duty. That didn't stop everything from collapsing, foundations were falling and everyone was suffering for it.

Disgusted, Draneir surveyed the scene. Beggars lined the bustling streets, half the population seemingly jobless. "A month and a half since the Emperor's death, and already more than 54% of the civilian companies have gone bankrupt," he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. "And to think, Eriadu is considered lucky compared to the rest of the galaxy."

Memories of his past as a Coruscant underworld rat flashed through his mind. It was a life of stealing and doing things he didn't want to remember. But a stroke of luck allowed him to steal enough to study and enter the military academy for army officers. He'd always justified his actions as a desperate struggle for survival, a necessary evil that led him to become the proud Imperial Navy officer he is today.

With a sigh, Draneir pulled out an antique watch, a gift from Tanya on his promotion day. Crafted from expensive materials and bearing the mark of time, it was worth a hundred thousand credits. The realization of its value deepened his appreciation for the gift.

He opened the watch, noticing that his break was still an hour and a half away from ending.. At the bottom, etched in bright blue, was an inscription: "Built in Sereno, by the official clockmaker of the Duchy."

Closing the watch, Draneir set off towards the Perseverance, Tanya's headquarters, and the place he now called home.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draneir stood before the grand manor's inner door, a sigh escaping his lips. Memories of the past few days flooded his mind, each one an image of Tanya, either drunk or drinking.

"Please, don't be drinking wine," he muttered under his breath.

Draneir was deeply concerned about Tanya's health. Her erratic mood swings and burgeoning alcoholism had him contemplating drastic measures. He even considered discreetly summoning a Coruscant psychologist for a personal assessment. Yet, the fear of Tanya perceiving this as a personal attack held him back. He didn't want to add to her discomfort.

With a resigned sigh, Draneir opened the door. To his surprise, the sweet, cloying aroma of wine was absent. A spark of optimism flickered within him. He stepped inside, finding Tanya engrossed in typing on a tablet as the news droned on in the background.

"Good morning, Grand Moff Degurechaff," he greeted, his voice tinged with respect.

Tanya looked up, eyes landing on the Captain's insignia gleaming on his spotless uniform. A hint of a smile played on her lips.

"You're still on your break, Draneir. You can call me Tanya."

He nodded, approaching and taked a seat across from her at the table.

"What are you writing?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

"Outlining the plan for abolishing slavery and reforming the conscription law," she replied, her fingers flying across the tablet screen.

Without hesitation, Draneir's gaze shifted to the large screen mirroring the tablet's content. The words "Obliterative Service to the State" stood out, followed by its proposed division into two branches: military and civilian service. The former would entail five years of active duty in the Imperial Army, followed by twenty years in reserve, with both periods compensated by the state. The latter, however, would involve ten years of service in the civilian sector, working for either the government or private companies, with wages determined by the employers. He also read that this service would be lengthened or shortened depending on the average lifespan of each breed, trying to bring parity between the longest-lived and the shortest-lived breeds.

"Universal service, applicable to both men and women, regardless of race or religion," Draneir read aloud, his voice laced with surprise.

"Will we be recruiting xenos?" he inquired, eyebrows raised.

"A majority of our population consists of Xenos," Tanya replied, not pausing in her work. "Xenophobia is an irrational ideology I refuse to endorse. It would be simply illogical."

The biggest concern was the potential risk of an uprising. While some Xenos remained loyal to the Empire, the vast majority harbored animosity due to years of oppression. Arming them through military service could be a dangerous gamble.

"The Xenos despise us," Draneir argued. "If we offer them a path to the army, they'll utilize our training to fight against us. Furthermore, shouldn't we create an option to avoid conscription, perhaps through a financial payment?"

Tanya paused, a sigh escaping her lips as she leaned back in her chair. Draneir noticed a brief flicker of her gaze towards the wine cabinet, then to her watch, exactly the same of the one she'd gifted him. Though tempted, he knew Tanya only indulged off-duty, and several hours remained before her shift ended.

"The Xenos will learn to appreciate us once they possess rights, wealth, and security," Tanya explained. "If they continue to despise us after acquiring those benefits, it implies their irrationality, making them irrelevant to my concerns. Should they rebel, they'll face execution. Analyzing every potential recruit for idiocy would render conscription impractical. It's a necessary evil for our current situation. As for financial exemptions, I refuse to create a society where the poor send their children to die or toil for a decade while the rich buy their way out of their obligations. Equal treatment is my mandate, regardless of wealth. Rich and poor alike will serve their country, be it through military service or civilian work. Perhaps a stint in the mines will teach these wealthy children some humility, instead of squandering their fathers' fortunes on drugs, gambling, and lust."

This measure would undoubtedly face resistance from the wealthy, who were accustomed to navigating life through financial means.

"The rich will despise this," Draneir predicted.

Tanya rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes momentarily.

"I'd rather incur the hatred of millions of rich people than trillions of the impoverished," she declared resolutely.

Draneir pondered her words, his thoughts interrupted by a hailing signal. Tanya accepted it, and a holographic projection of a ship officer materialized.

"A visitor requesting an audience. He identifies as Kal Rando, a Skakoan."

"Direct him to my private quarters."

The hologram vanished. Tanya rose, surveying the room and meticulously adjusting the sofa cushions for a more elegant appearance. She ran her fingers over surfaces, checking for dust, and smiled with satisfaction at the pristine state.

"Draneir, please tidy the chairs. We have a distinguished guest arriving."

Draneir nodded, standing and rearranging the chairs around the table they had occupied.

"Should I remain for the duration of this meeting?" he inquired.

"Considering your role as my right-hand man in this governance, you may stay. You'll eventually be privy to these discussions anyway, so this is the opportune moment."

Draneir responded with a nod and approached the door, opening it in anticipation of the guest's arrival. Soon, a six-foot Skakoan entered, adorned in a sleek purple suit and respirator. Their species could not breathe outside their homeworld, relying heavily on these devices, hence their inherent xenophobia and isolationist tendencies. Despite this, their reputation for engineering prowess was unmatched across the galaxy.

"Grand Moff Degurechaff awaits you," Draneir announced to Kal Rando, who remained silent, subtly provoking Draneir. He suppressed his annoyance and led the Skakoan through the corridor until they reached the grand hall.

Draneir stepped aside as Kal Rando and Tanya locked eyes in a tense moment. Then, unexpectedly, Kal Rando bowed deeply.

"Your Majesty," he intoned.

Tanya raised her hand before he could continue. "No longer," she said, "Just Tanya Degurechaff."

Kal Rando straightened, his gaze unwavering. "If your father knew you had abandoned your birthright for such a… common name," he scoffed, "he would be mortified."

"Let's not discuss this here, or in front of others," Tanya replied, gesturing towards Draneir, who stood engrossed by the scene. Kal turned to him with disdain.

"I assumed he was your servant," he remarked.

Tanya corrected him, "He is my right hand, Belisarius Draneir."

Kal nodded and took a seat at the table. Tanya followed suit, the tension returning to the air. Draneir felt like a foreign element amidst these old acquaintances, keenly aware of their shared past that remained a secret to him. He had never known anything about Tanya's past.

"Have you completed your task?" Tanya inquired.

"Yes," Kal Rando confirmed. "Though it is a 'shame' Lord Vader… is not present to witness the culmination of our joint project. All three projects are ready for implementation."

"What will the new company be called?" Tanya asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

Lost in the conversation, Draneir remained silent and still.

"The Tech and Droid Association Company," Kal Rando announced. "The minds of the Techno Union and the Colicoid Creation Nets merged into one entity. A union once unimaginable, now a reality. However, large-scale production requires a planet. The Battle of Endor doesn't alter our original plan, does it?"

Tanya shook her head, revealing a hologram on the table. The planet Geonosis materialized, surrounded by its detailed data.

"Geonosis will be yours," Tanya declared. "Officially, it will remain under Imperial control, but operated under your contract. The price is 3.000.000.000.000.000 credits. The locals were… cleansed by Lord Vader and I some years ago, following orders from above."

Kal sighed, a hint of sadness in his gaze. "If only your father knew…"

"I know what my father's opinion would be if he were alive," Tanya said, her voice tinged with weariness. "There's no need to repeat it constantly."

Though saddened for a fleeting moment, Kal quickly regained his earlier air of arrogance, though his tone towards Tanya remained respectful.

"Payment will be expedited," he assured her. "And with it, you will receive the first prototype of the Black Hole project and ten thousand units of the Trinave project."

Tanya nodded, engaging in a conversation with Kal about the project's intricacies, details that were lost on Draneir. As minutes turned into hours, the evening descended, and Kal finally took his leave. Tanya remained, a machiavellian smile playing on her lips as she chuckled under her breath.

"Years of research finally bear fruit," she murmured, rising from her chair and heading towards the wine cellar. Emerging with two bottles and matching glasses, she declared, "I'm in a celebratory mood, Draneir! Join me!"

Draneir approached and sat at the table, but Tanya, with a playful scowl, gestured towards the couch.

"My work hours ended twenty minutes ago," she explained, "and I'm done with chairs and tables. Let's move to the couch!"

Draneir readily agreed, taking his place on the plush cushions. Tanya, her mood buoyant, uncorked the first bottle - a vintage Naboo wine aged for fifty years. Whenever she felt this cheerful, she would personally open and serve the wine, a tradition they had established long ago. Draneir could count on one hand the number of times this had occurred since Tanya's descent into alcoholism.

"To what do we raise our glasses?" Draneir inquired as he accepted the filled cup.

"Firstly," Tanya declared, "to the creation of a company that will serve me for years to come. Secondly, to the genesis of a machine that will leave the rebels so bewildered, I yearn to witness their expressions firsthand. And lastly, to the beginning of the end for the TIE fighter!" she exclaimed with derision, "that wretched contraption we call the standard Imperial fighter! That useless thing, responsible for the most humiliating defeats in our history!"

"To the Empire!" Tanya shouted, raising her glass. Draneir, mirroring her gesture, clinked his glass against hers.

"To the Empire," he echoed.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draneir glanced at his watch: 2 am. A weary sigh escaped his lips. He remembered how promising the day had seemed, how Tanya had appeared to break free from her self-destructive drinking habits and embrace their old rules of moderation. But that illusion had shattered after only two bottles of wine.

"All I ever wanted was a peaceful life," Tanya muttered to herself, "a world of meritocracy, freedom, and peace. Instead, I find betrayal, corruption, war..."

Draneir looked at Tanya sprawled on the vast couch, its size allowing her to lie comfortably without disturbing him. "And let's not forget the memory loss," she slurred, "makes those fools who crave immortality look positively foolish!"

Draneir rarely witnessed Tanya's drunken episodes. However, he'd grown accustomed to her nonsensical ramblings under the influence, usually choosing to ignore them.

"You know," Tanya continued, voice thick with intoxication, "I've had four names. The first, a salaryman's name, I can't recall anymore. Then came Tanya von Degurechaff, followed by another I've forgotten entirely. And now, back to Tanya Degurechaff. Though technically, it should be von Degurechaff. What do you think? Should I add the 'von' back?"

Draneir sighed and offered a wry smile. "Yes, I think the 'von' complements your name."

Tanya's response was a garbled laugh, its humor lost on Draneir. He simply let it pass, recognizing that her inebriation did nothing to diminish her elegant beauty.

"You should go to sleep," he suggested, his gaze falling on the table overflowing with bottles of wine. He couldn't help but wonder how one person could consume such an amount without succumbing to illness or vomiting.

"Sometimes," Tanya mused, "I wonder if my life is some cruel joke, penned by a sadistic author who thrives on suffering. Maybe it's all just entertainment for others, because I simply can't understand how a pacifist yearning for peace ended up like me." Her voice grew thick with emotion. "I've committed genocide, crucified and killed innocent and guilty alike, upheld a tyrannical regime fueled by powers beyond human comprehension, and become the adopted daughter of the very tyrant who murdered my father. What in the world did I do to deserve this fate?"

Draneir found himself questioning the genuineness of her words for the first time. Was she speaking from the heart, or was the alcohol merely giving voice to her deepest anxieties?

He stood up and gently lifted Tanya, whose face was flushed red. He couldn't tell if it was anger, wine or sadness that colored her cheeks, but he ignored it and carried her to her bed, tucking her in with utmost care.

"Sleep well, Tanya," he whispered. "If you need anything, just call out."

Draneir closed the door gently and turned away from her room, his gaze falling upon the remaining wine bottles and the overflowing storage room. A resolute glint entered his eyes. He pulled out his communicator and contacted the head cleaner.

"I need you to assemble a team," he stated firmly. "No more alcohol on this ship."

"Another wine incident, Captain?" the head cleaner inquired knowingly. Draneir looked back at the overflowing warehouse.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Gather several teams. As Captain, I hereby forbid any further alcohol consumption aboard this vessel. Confiscate all remaining bottles and store them in a secure hangar. We'll deal with their disposal later."

"Understood," the head cleaner replied, ending the communication. Draneir stood alone, a deep breath escaping his lips.

"She's going to be furious with me tomorrow," he mused, but his eyes held a steely resolve. He would do whatever it took to protect Tanya, even if it meant defying her wrath.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draneir awoke from his slumber, sweating and naked, his beautiful body glistening in the dim ambient light of his room, his hard-working but not overly muscular body showing through.

"Shit, another nightmare!"

Draneir stared at the reflection staring back at him from the mirror. A black tattoo of a rat surrounded by a male symbol, a mark of his murky past, marred his skin where his heart should be. Shame washed over him as he pulled the blanket over the tattoo and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling with ragged breaths.

"I'll always be a Coruscant rat," he whispered, frustration gnawing at him.

He tugged at the blanket furiously, a futile attempt to quell the anger within him, a rage born from the memories of his past he'd fled. Life in the underground of Coruscant had been a living hell, devoid of rules, law, or security. Mafias and elite factions from the upper levels ruled with an iron fist, exploiting the denizens like pawns in their cruel game.

Rising to his feet, Draneir walked barefoot to his private bathroom, equipped with all the necessities of a luxurious bath. Without a second thought, he stepped under the cold shower, the icy water sending a jolt through his system. He flinched initially but quickly regained control, mastering his body against the assault of the cold.

"Calm. Serenity. Discipline. These are the foundations of my survival. My discipline has kept me alive, my serenity has brought me this far, and my calm has placed me beside the best person in the galaxy."

The fire in Draneir's heart slowly died down as the cold numbed his body, turning his skin pale.

"The Empire would replace me, but Tanya wouldn't."

With controlled breaths, Draneir repeated the mantras that had transformed him into the disciplined Imperial officer Tanya needed - a pillar of strength and support.

Having found his composure, he began washing his body, the warm water a welcome relief from the cold torment. As he stepped out, he felt the gradual change in his temperature, a stark contrast to the relentless chill he'd endured.

"Long live the Empire," he uttered, his voice filled with conviction. "And long live Tanya."

He knew that despite his position, his true purpose lay in serving and protecting Tanya. This realization brought a newfound sense of purpose and unwavering loyalty.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stood up, feeling the alcohol taking its toll on my abuse and not wanting to get out of bed, however, I looked at the time and could see that I had to get up, no matter what my health condition, I must get on with my work.

Slipping off my blanket, I saw that I slept with my Grand Moff uniform on. I took it off, left it on the bed, and looked at myself in the mirror, my body was what many men consider beautiful, and surely in my first life, I would have wanted to have a relationship with the soul that had this body.

"Three lives and still a virgin, huh, that would be a good title for a movie."

I removed my underwear and went to take a shower, turning on the hot water to help me deal with the consequences of my actions, a reminder that I could defeat a God in will but I could never defeat my own human body in my little pleasures of life.

I looked up as the water fell.

"Maybe calling it small pleasures isn't accurate."

The persistent hum of the hot water filled the bathroom as I stepped into the shower, the steam clinging to my skin like a veil. Shame gnawed at me as I realized the extent of my problem. The blurry memories of the previous night were more than enough evidence.

Yet, I didn't want to stop. I knew I was spiraling, but alcohol offered a temporary escape, a numbing salve for the weight of my responsibilities. Like caffeine fueled my work, alcohol-fueled my leisure – a yin and yang for my troubled mind.

"Perhaps the saying is true," I murmured, a wry smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "the first step in solving a problem is recognizing there is one."

The water washed away the remnants of the night, leaving only the harsh reality of the day ahead. The weight of my duties – creating a stable government, enforcing my will, eliminating the rebels and traitors – pressed down on me.

"I suppose I do see things differently through the hazy lens of intoxication," I mused, a hint of self-deprecating humor in my voice. "Especially the parts I wish to forget."

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I came out of my room, with a clean new Grand Moff outfit, my hair dry, and a blaster pistol in a gun holster attached to my hip.

"Good morning Tanya von Degurechaff," Draneir said, he was waiting outside my door, with a smile and spotless uniform, however what he said made my head hurt.

"Did I drink that much last night?" I asked.

"Yes, that's why I've decided to take away all your wine. Every night I'll bring you a bottle to quench your craving, but I won't allow anymore for your own good."

Before, I would have been very upset, the denial of my freedom to choose to self-destruct in alcohol would have been a great offense to me. However, when in trouble sometimes, and only sometimes, it was okay to accept help.

"I guess that will do, thank you Draneir, what's for breakfast? What do we have to do" I asked, intending to start a stupid but necessary conversation as I walked towards the kitchen.

"I've decided that today we're having chocolate Caff and Naboo scones for breakfast". Draneir said, advancing beside me. "About what you have on your agenda, the Hutt's have sent a representative in person while representatives from all the shipyards under our power have already arrived, and lastly, an individual known as Max Grobelnel is requesting a private audience with you, he claims to want to join your government."

I sighed and saw the table on which breakfast was neatly laid out, sat down, and began to drink a chocolate caff, occasionally dipping a Naboo bun into the caff. A luxury breakfast for many in the galaxy.

"The Hutt's arrival alone has made my day," I said. "If they do anything stupid, I'll execute them immediately".

Draneir, who was drinking his caff, looked up.

"Is that a joke?" he asked.

"It depends if after finishing this caff I am happy or not".