— Free Nar Shaddaa —
A Smuggler's Moon. A neon jewel of the blackest space. A lawless place, as stricken by exploitation as it was blessed by opportunity. A slice of Hell to many. A twisted sort of Heaven to many others, still. Nar Shaddaa was far from unmatched in the galaxy, far from unrivaled. It remained uniquely noteworthy, regardless.
There were other ecumenopolises with their untold billions and trillions of souls. There were other shadow ports, havens for the darkest trades and industries and services the galaxy had to offer. There were even many other worlds that had been choked and chained by durasteel-clad Hutt rule since their inceptions.
Nar Shaddaa boasted all of those qualities, though, all at once. It was populated by billions upon billions upon billions of unnamed, unremembered, 'unimportant' souls. Nearly 400 billion sentients called the Smuggler's Moon home. Many times that number came and went from its ever-busy orbital lanes and spaceports every cycle, for whatever business they held dear enough to risk their lives.
It was the most shadowed of shadow ports, where everything could be bought or sold or bartered, where 'lawful regulation' wasn't even a dream in the mind. The spice trade was at its most profitable there, along with trades of legal and illegal weapons, mercenary services, an ever-present industry of sentient flesh bought and sold for any purpose the mind could conceive, and so many other black markets that went ignored in polite Core World company. The only quality one truly needed to profit from Nar Shaddaa's endless and lawless opportunities was a sort of suicidal daring that, (un)fortunately, was in no short supply throughout the galaxy.
It was the beating economic heart of Hutt Space, the truest connection between an oppressive empire of overwhelming exploitation and the wider galaxy beyond. Credits and peggats and beskar bars flowed through Nar Shaddaa in quantities unmatched outside the Republic's Core. With everything legal, everything was considered profit to be made. The blackest of markets freely joined traditional industries and trades as defining variables for an economy unlike any other.
For millennia, Nar Shaddaa had stood apart, if not in category than in scale. Its name was whispered in all corners of the galaxy, both shadowed and brightly lit. Even the most upstanding citizens of the Republic could easily find themselves in need of its services and opportunities. And those who lived lives of the opposite kind were more likely to feel at home on Nar Shaddaa than anywhere else.
Long had the Smuggler's Moon been a defining advantage of Hutt reign over their space. It was their magnum opus, the culmination of a millennia-old restructuring of their society — from Hutt Warriors and Conquerors of Old to Hutt Warriors and Conquerors of Coin and Credit. The efforts of ten thousand years went into making Nar Shaddaa perfect for their purposes.
Through Nar Shaddaa, that new focus of Hutt conquest — and it was still conquest, just of a different domineering sort — had wormed and worked its way into the rest of the galaxy. It wasn't blatant anymore, no planetary campaigns or species-wide enslavements or visible faces for their enemies to point at. It was insidious, instead. A slow, creeping domination that few, if any, saw for what it truly was.
Over time, the Hutts made themselves irremovable from the galaxy at large. A cruel, consuming constant of an invasive parasite species that twisted its galactic host into relying on it more than they ever realized. They dominated markets — both legal and illegal —, cornered their competition, and thrived by whatever cruel practices — clear or covert — that would let them best conquer the galactic economy and hoard everything for themselves.
Via Nar Shaddaa, the Hutts wormed their way into the base running of the galaxy. A philosophy of 'anything goes' in a war of trade that their neighbors never realized they were fighting. No strategy was a step too far so long as control always came back to the Hutts, so long as their species came to reign supreme.
Unlike the Hutt Conquests of Old, the rest of the galaxy was given no chance to resist. Nor were they given another choice in the matter of their 'new masters'. The Hutts tolerated no alternative. Any other criminal syndicates simply couldn't compare to the firmly entrenched Hutts, not in every market. They all failed eventually.
Meanwhile, the Hutts were eternal, making themselves a part of every life in the galaxy to one degree of separation or another. Their majority black market shares in spice, slavery, and smuggling ensured that much, as did the diversity of their 'ostensibly above-board' markets such as transportation, luxuries, industrial production, war profiteering, stock manipulation, moneylending, and overall unrelenting resource exploitation from worlds they officially and unofficially claimed.
Their economic dominance was ubiquitous and pervasive. Some Hutt Clans and Kajidics controlled entire sector economies in the Outer and Mid-Rim. Others 'merely' directed shell corporations that served the Galactic Core and exploited loopholes to give the Hutts representation — without taxation — that they didn't deserve in the Senate.
And at its core, all of that dominance inevitably flowed through the Smuggler's Moon. It was the gateway into their space, fortified and firmly claimed. It was the beginning, and the end. It was the fulcrum through which the Hutts had influenced and dominated the galaxy for millennia.
Like that, Nar Shaddaa had always occupied an irrevocable place in the galaxy — a place that cleaved to the slugs first and foremost.
The hundreds of billions of sentient souls who called it home were used to a certain 'way' of things. A certain order to their worlds, and the worlds of a thousand previous generations. An order that hadn't been truly challenged in millennia. An order chained to the Hutt species as a whole.
They were used to the legal and illegal markets and opportunities Nar Shaddaa offered. They were used to the draconic rule — the oppression and exploitation that reigned over the Smuggler's moon and always came back to a Hutt. They were used to their status as a port so pivotal that it couldn't be left alone without the many guiding hands of their masters.
Every Kajidic tried to claim a portion of the Smuggler's Moon. Every Hutt lusted after a slice of the pie. The slugs were a constant on Nar Shaddaa, ever-present. A fundamental fact of life. Even more than their insidious domination that spread through the rest of the galaxy, every aspect of life on Nar Shaddaa came directly back to one Hutt or another.
Now, however, that 'way of things' was changing. And it wasn't just a minor shift. It was a complete upheaval. It was a revolution.
From its own gutters, Nar Shaddaa was rising against its masters. And against all odds and expectations, that revolution had gained steam. A cascading sort of momentum that quickly became unstoppable.
Most of Nar Shaddaa's population saw Night City as just another district of their home, albeit a rather large and unique one. It was a known quantity, though — the 'Human Sector', ultimately similar to the Duros Quarter or the Red Light Sector in the minds of most. Few considered it as something truly worth noting before the rise. Like every other portion of Nar Shaddaa, it was doomed to overall Hutt rule. That fact was taken for granted. Just accepted by any who called the Smuggler's Moon home. Thus, no one expected Night City to come out swinging like it did.
The initial stages of the conflict had largely slipped under the notice of most. Then, a Hutt was killed, and the local operations of a ruling Kajidic were taken over. That hadn't escaped notice, and those who did hunkered down to prepare for the storm that would inevitably come from it.
Nar Shaddaa went about business as usual, even as some watched for the coming storm. Then, a second Hutt was killed, and the death was broadcast for all to see. Hope and satisfaction sparked in the hearts of many at the sight, but still, they kept their heads down.
The Hutt orbital bombardment that followed in response to the death of 'a greater being' seemed like it would be the end of things. It was tragic and jarring and horrifying, but nothing truly abnormal, nothing that could be stopped or even resisted. The people of Nar Shaddaa knew the Hutts would do as they pleased without any care for collateral damage.
Such was the price for going against the order under which they all lived. Hutts were supreme on the Smuggler's Moon. Everyone else was… not merely expendable, but truly inconsequential and insignificant in the beady eyes of their masters.
The vast majority of Nar Shaddaa's population lived lives of pure survival, not 'anything more'. 'Anything more' was never in the cards they were dealt. 'Anything more' was never even in the deck…
Yet somehow, that Death Dealt From Above wasn't the end. It was barely the beginning. A prologue and prelude to the impossible.
Many of the momentum-gathering events that followed took place within Night City. Away from the eyes and ears and troubles of most. But a scant, well-informed few had the ability to follow the rising news. And they soon came to realize that this wasn't like anything they'd seen before.
The 'Gonk Cartel' was formalized and claimed itself a piece of Night City. They weren't cowed by the destructive response of the Hutts. They gathered new strength and new allies, closer to home. Local powers, united into something more, something greater. They recovered enough to resist. They rebuilt. They rose.
And when the Hutts tried to strike again, to put an end to the threat that had dared to defy their masters to the death, the Gonk Cartel and their new allies repelled the Invasion of Night City. They rallied behind Atom, leader of the Gonks. And instead of accepting the status quo that so many previous generations had no choice but to accept, they pushed back.
The fight was taken to the rest of Nar Shaddaa, the Hutt masters amongst them. Slugs began dropping like flies. Suddenly, the whole of Nar Shaddaa was watching with bated breath.
Hutt control was broken in so many places, over and over again, seemingly without end or failure. Slaves were freed and given the chance to rise with the Gonks. Quickly, abruptly, the rest of the moon found themselves being swept along with the rising, winning wave.
It was a blitz of utterly unprecedented proportions, effectively executed to an extreme extent. Once the Gonks got rolling, the Hutts never had the chance to react, much less actually respond. All they could do was flee… or flatline…
In a mere month, the Smuggler's Moon was thrown into glorious, revolutionary chaos. Shaken from foundation to skyscraping tip in a way that none could've anticipated.
Many could only watch on in shocked disbelief as actual results made themselves apparent for anyone with eyes to see. Many more saw the chance for change, the option for a better alternative, and seized it with both hands. The Gonks rose, leading Night City, and soon, other sectors of the moon as well.
Through that month of Hutt-focused war, the Gonks touched just about every life on the moon. They threw everything into chaos. But the chance for real change that could come from that chaos was too tantalizing to pass up. Most found themselves putting their faith in the Gonks. And those who couldn't bring themselves to do so still thanked the Gonks for relief from their Hutt masters or the opportunities that let them rise on their own into the vacuums left behind.
Hutts or no, life and business did go on for the Smuggler's Moon. To the surprise of those who wholeheartedly relied on the status quo, and to the lack of surprise for those who suffered under it, things actually got better on the Smuggler's Moon as Hutt after Hutt was removed from the equation and the war raged on.
Business boomed for the mercs, smugglers, and gunmongers, no matter which side of the war they chose. Resources were freed up, and naturally found themselves redistributed. Those who'd long gone without got a taste of all that the Hutts had always hoarded. Slaves broke their chains, by themselves or with the aid of the Gonk Cartel, and many of them joined the fight. And most importantly, most impossibly, Hutts died.
Victory wasn't just a possibility. It'd quickly come to feel like an inevitability. Hutts were dying in numbers never before seen, certainly not in historical memory. They were bleeding. They were fleeing. They were being driven extinct, from the highest levels of the moon to its most shadowed undercities. It was only a matter of time before Nar Shaddaa was (unbelievably…) free of their slimy masters.
Some still feared the inevitable and inevitably horrifying punishment that would come down upon all of Nar Shaddaa if the Hutts won it back. But most… Most simply wanted — needed — to hope. No one on Nar Shaddaa knew any other 'way of things' than one choked by the Hutts. But many — so, so many — dearly wanted to.
As far-fetched as it was, the population of Nar Shaddaa was able to read the new writing on the wall. The Gonks were something special. They were there to stay. And somehow, they were seeing great success in all they did. Slowly, Nar Shaddaa raised its head to watch history being made. Once they did, the truth of the situation became clear to anyone with eyes. Almost all of the moon's 'lesser species' began to cheer.
The final victory came on the back of massive steel wings and steel frames and steel guns. And it was recorded, uploaded, and seen by too many to count. The holo-vids were passed around across the moon and even beyond into the wider hypernet.
If the very idea of victory wasn't beautifully, unbelievably, impossibly awesome enough, the way it was definitively won dropped jaws and immediately went viral.
People watched it, and didn't just linger in mere awe andhope; no, they were brought face to face with the realization that this was all real, that this revolution had legs, that the Gonks were the future, and that they weren't afraid to state it for all to see with all of the overwhelming force required for that statement.
It was insane, in the best of ways. More like something out of a blockbuster action holo than something happening on their moon. More like a dream, a hope, a story than anything real.
On the holo for all to see, a humanoid steel monster fired capital-class guns into a fortified bunker. It was matte black, with a vicious red optic that many viewers claimed to feel glaring at them in their souls, and intimidating like nothing else in the galaxy. Comparable to nothing else, too, for it was the first the galaxy saw of the revolutionary new technology created to stand and overthrow the Hutts on Nar Shaddaa.
Durasteel armor and rockcrete disintegrated in a scene that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. The name of a Hutt flashed across the holo 'Zazim, Supplier of Venerable Tyranny: flatlined'. Another Hutt; dead. Another Hutt-killing holo-vid.
That first holo-vid went the kind of viral that had only been achieved once before on Nar Shaddaa. Recently, too: that month-and-change-old broadcast of the Gonk leader, Atom, killing the Hutt who kidnapped him and sending a galaxy-shaking message in the process. His broadcast then had changed the game.
And this one was the same, introducing the massive and literally groundbreaking 'Steel Mektons' that proved the Gonks could and would hold their ground, push back, and even win out in the end. It was… unlike anything else anyone had ever seen… Singular in its shock and awe…
Then came a second holo-vid of rampaging Mektons. And a third, and fourth, all night long.
That final night, Nar Shaddaa was treated to a flood of Mekton holos. 8 individual iterations of the steel war machines were identified, each seen multiple times during that countdown of dead slugs. Almost immediately, the Mektons themselves became celebrities. And that was to say nothing of the immediate fame earned by the pilots after their names were freely 'leaked' by the Gonk Cartel — a boasting, a claiming, a warning…
Seen in the midst of heated violence, the awesome new machines of war were impossible to deny, and the hype of them and their actions was impossible to resist. Especially once it was confirmed that no more Hutts remained on Nar Shaddaa.
They were dead, or banished. Extinct, on a moon at the heart of their space that they'd claimed for so long. And the Mektons were the period placed on that new statement of fact.
It only took a day for the Hutt-free reality to set in across the moon. Still, people hesitated. They… weren't quite sure what to do with the new state of things. Not even the Gonks, for the most part.
Then, an official statement was made by the one everyone assumed to be the now de facto owner of the Smuggler's Moon. Everyone on Nar Shaddaa tuned into the broadcast, and a fair few from the wider galaxy did as well. Atom spoke. Nar Shaddaa and the wider galaxy listened.
"'Guess I brought this onto myself," He opened with a grumble that many quickly (and amusedly) realized they weren't supposed to hear. "Responsible conquest or liberation or whatever… Right."
He looked up at the viewers of the holo-broadcast, and most of the viewers were treated to their first look at the man who drove the Hutts off their own moon.
Handsome human features, with blond hair and an expression that could cut steel. He carried a certain undeniable weight to him. A weight of accomplishment, of history being made, of greatness for all to see. Even through the holo, many felt like that hard gaze of his was piercing them to their cores.
"My name is Atom," He said. "I'm a Gonk. The Gonk. I'm the one to blame for all of this, and I don't regret a single damn thing. I started it. Now, I've finished part of it. But there's still more to be done. Night City, Nar Shaddaa, our home… It's only the beginning.
"But that's for the days to come. Today, Nar Shaddaa stands free. This moon stands under its own power for the first time in its history. All of us stand with it. No slimy bulk to hold us down. No slug to sit on us with all of their oppressive weight.
"I can personally guarantee that the Hutts have been driven off this moon. We worked hard to ensure that — me and all of my Gonks. And we've been thoroughly checking to ensure it's true for the last day. I've had teams working around the clock to search, clear, and claim everything the Hutts left behind, both physically and digitally. Nar Shaddaa is now a slug-free moon."
The prospect, the promise, was unimaginable in the minds of those who called Nar Shaddaa home. But across the bottom of the holo-vid, a list began to scroll and scroll. A Hutt Hit List. In it, people recognized the names and titles of individual Hutts that had once controlled aspects of their lives. Along with one of two words beside each name: fled or flatlined. Individually, the people of Nar Shaddaa might've recognized one or two Hutt names, but taken as a whole, the confirmation was thorough.
"I don't say this lightly," Atom continued. "But here on Nar Shaddaa, the Gonks have claimed victory. We've got the proof to back it up, as you can plainly see. We've won. Simple as. And that should mean something.
"So Gonk or not, I invite everyone who calls Nar Shaddaa home to celebrate. Revel. Fucking rejoice. Throw a party. Run into the streets and shout freedom to the stars. Break your chains, and do so loudly and openly. This is your chance to let loose everything you've been made to keep locked up inside. And as you do, know that this won't be the only one. From today onward, I promise, Nar Shaddaa stands free."
That declaration brought the whole moon to a halt. It felt like there was a single moment of breath, an inhale waiting for all of it to be tragically torn from them again. The tragedy never arrived.
In that moment, Nar Shaddaa came alive. The collective cheers from so many sectors across the moon could've been heard from orbit. The people of Nar Shaddaa wanted to believe. Even those too hopeless to do so in their heart of hearts tried to manifest that hopeful belief through sheer weight of celebration. And the cynical ones would still take the chance to party.
A few weren't so excited, so relieved, so hopeful. But they were the minority, those who preferred the status quo of Hutt rule for some selfish reason or another. The vast, vast majority of the moon let themselves celebrate for a brighter tomorrow, a new 'way of things'.
The rest of the galaxy saw Nar Shaddaa as nothing more than a wretched hive of scum and villainy. But at their cores, the people who called it home were just that… people.
The slaves were people. The downtrodden masses just trying to get by were people. The gangers, mercs, smugglers, spacers, spicemongers, and other 'criminals' who hadn't been culled by the rampant Hutt conscription that conveniently removed many of the worst offenders were still people in their gray-shaded hearts.
And everyone, from those 'better' criminals to the chained to the 'normal' masses with their 'normal' lives, saw a better way in Atom's declaration. The blackest hearts, the grayest, the most tortured; all of them took up Atom's invitation. The day became a celebration of change, hope, and something — anything — new. A day for Free Nar Shaddaa.
The streets were filled with block parties and revelry of all kinds. The airways hosted races and makeshift parades. The many, many clubs of the Smuggler's Moon exploded with visitors, even at noon. Crowds spilled out of bars and spice dens. The Red Light Sector pulled in enough profit to buy a Mid-Rim planet. They were laughing, loving, living. As Atom invited, they were shouting their newfound freedom to the stars.
"I started this whole business with a single Hutt," Atom's victory speech broadcast said. "It's become so much more. And it doesn't stop here. It can't. The Hutts won't ever leave us alone. So the Gonks will hold the line. We'll strike back. Expand. Liberate more. Break chains and prop up others to stand free as Nar Shaddaa now does.
"The Hutts are a plague, a scourge, an aberration on the galaxy. They corrupt everything they touch, and have been left to do so for too fucking long. I saw it's about time someone stood up and punched them in their slimy-ass mouths.
"The Republic won't? The Jedi claim they can't? That their noble hands are tied? Fine. If I have to be the one to suckerpunch a slug, so be it. It's a responsibility I'll gladly accept. And one I'll take great pleasure in fulfilling to its fullest extent."
All across Nar Shaddaa, people sought out the Gonks who'd fought and freed them from the scourge of slugs. Most did so to congratulate, praise, and thank them. But a fair few came with a different motive in mind.
Those fair few came with a question and a hope on their lips: "What can I do?"
And so, the recently victorious Gonk Cartel grew.
"Freedom from Hutts is a freedom that's always worth fighting for," Atom firmly stated. "And it is freedom. I've got no plans to lord over you all. I've got my hands full enough with my Gonks and Night City. I'm not usurping the slugs. I'm throwing off their fucking chains. And any other chain that falls on someone against their will. If I catch anyone else trying to push their slavery on Free Nar Shaddaa, they're dead as a slug, neh?"
Most of the slave rings on the moon had been busted by the Gonks in their month-long blitz, whether they belonged to Hutts or not. Atom didn't care to make exceptions for chains. And the Gonk's Freest Legion certainly didn't, either. The stars bestowed upon all of Mighty Leia's siblings would be set free.
During that victory broadcast, the few slave rings that remained on the Smuggler's Moon found themselves in dire straits. Without a larger enemy to focus on, the Freest Legion could focus on its founding purpose. They raided the remaining slave rings and, simultaneously, broke all of them over their knee.
"There exists no chain that cannot be broken. It hasn't been forged now, and it never will be," Atom declared. "Slavers be-fucking-ware. You have no place on Free Nar Shaddaa, no place anywhere my Gonks and Freest Legion can reach. Mighty Leia's siblings persist. They will shine free."
To those who'd never felt the weight of chains, that declaration was straightforward enough. It was a firm statement of intent against slavery and a warning to those who would dare participate in it.
But to those who knew chains, past or present, it was so much more.
It was a story shared amongst all of them. A tale and a promise — almost a prophecy — only for the ears of the enslaved. It was a signal to keep on, keep on, keep on; a signal that their now-freed brothers and sisters would come for them. Mighty Leia's siblings would shine free.
In the holo, Atom finished his broadcast with a slug-freezing glare, "And for the Hutts… Listen close, listen well. Your wealth, your chains, and all of your power; I'm coming for everything you hoard so dear."
The broadcast ended, lingering on that glare. Even as a still frame, more than a few Hutts reported minor heart attacks brought on by Atom's glare — "Like he reached through space and time to choke my fabulously fatty organs in his hands!" — likely for attention and to play the victim. They garnered little sympathy outside their species, and certainly none from Free Nar Shaddaa.
The days following Gonk victory and Atom's broadcast were ones of unrivaled revelry on Nar Shaddaa. The whole moon seemed to be gripped by a continuous party for the ages, and all walks of life got in on the celebration.
Twi'lek girls danced for themselves, not any masters. Weequay men and women drank themselves silly and stupid, singing songs of a new legend for their people: 'Linth, Commander of the Gonk Fleet!'. Gonk Ganks feasted and howled tales of their victories. And Night City partied so hard they made Zeltros(the party tourism capital of the galaxy) look tame.
Street performances recounting and reenacting the final Gonk victory (or any one of Atom's public speeches…) could be found in every district of the moon. A montage of the viral Mekton holo-vids was put together with professional levels of production, and quickly spread off-moon through the hypernet.
Many, many factions across the galaxy took notice, from Republicans to Separatists, from smugglers and spacers looking for good work to Mandos and mercs looking for good fights, and even from the Jedi… to the hidden Sith at the center of his dark web of power. As Atom said in his broadcast, securing Nar Shaddaa would only be the beginning…
It wasn't all partying, though. In the wake of victory, many took the chance to simply breathe without the weight of Hutts above them.
A madam closed down her brothel for the week, relishing the chance to take care of her girls without them being demanded to attend grotesque masters. Working wounds were soothed, and hope for a better future solidified.
Simple families kept their heads down and spent time with each other, often breaking out something special to celebrate in the safety of their homes. Without Hutts sucking every luxury into their cavernous maws, many more people could afford to treat themselves and dream of a better tomorrow.
Newly freed slaves gathered wherever they could, often in the lairs of their former masters, to share stories of broken chains and shining stars. They cried, they laughed, they came together to leave each tragic tale in the past, looking forward to a free future.
A few hopeful thrillseekers even scaled the vertical miles of Nar Shaddaa's cityscape to look out over their home. Their now-Free Nar Shaddaa… They saw it all in neon celebration, and for once, were proud to call the Smuggler's Moon home. Perhaps it wouldn't be all up from there. But it'd certainly be something new, something worth being a part of.
And at the center of that revolutionary change, that revelry, that new hope, and healing, the leaders of the Gonk Cartel came together in their warroom. And they got right back down to work.
IIIII
— Atom —
"Nal Hutta is next. It has to be," I resolutely stated.
"Aye," Linth nodded in easy agreement. "Can't leave a vibroblade like that aimed at our backs."
"Practically in our backs, big choom," David chuffed. "Much too close for comfort."
"Hell of a sitch, kid," Maine nodded. "We're stuck orbiting the enemy homeworld. Ain't no avoidin' this fight."
"It will be a very, very interesting fight, though," Fay mused aloud. "One for the history books. But then, I suppose, everything happening here already is history in the making. Still, I don't know if a planet and its moon have ever been in such open conflict."
"Anything there is gonna have to be a fleet action first and foremost," I warned. "Are we ready to rock in the void?"
"That's out of a lot of our expertise, unfortunately," Dorio noted. "Edgerunners won't be much help in the void, unless we get straight to boarding action."
"Hunting?" Shank perked up at the prospect. "Void hunting?! Yes-yes! The packs are ready!"
"GET ME IN AND I'LL TEAR THE FUCKERS APART FROM THE INSIDE," Smasher rumbled from his new steel frame.
"I will also volunteer for boarding duty," Shaitain nodded just once from his.
"I'll bet the void will still be ship territory, though, not steel," V cautioned with a shrug. "Our new Meks are good — great, even — but without a gravity well for our repulsorlifts to push off, we'll be stuck with just thrusters and limited fuel."
"EASY FIX," Smasher grunted. "DON'T FLY, HAVE SOME GONK PILOT SHOOT US AT THE SLUG SHIPS LIKE DAMN BOARDING TORPEDOES."
Despite myself and the seriousness of the current planning session, I couldn't help but grin at the suggestion, "That does sound like a good time…"
David rolled his eyes, "You'll still need us to do the majority of the void brawling, steel-heads."
"There's no replacement for a proper fleet in the void," Linth chuckled.
"The Nomads are all in," Panam openly stated her faction's commitment. "Point us in the right direction, and we'll fly."
"My boys and girls have been waiting for this moment," Linth agreed. "We'll fly, we'll fight, and we'll 'flatline' — to borrow your lingo, boss-man. Just give the word, and the void will be ours."
"Are you fully aware of the black water forces arrayed against you?" Dooku asked.
He and his apprentice were mostly sitting in to watch the war council in motion. When he spoke, it felt more like a teaching moment than an actual question of curiosity. He was interested in our operations, but more for the sake of testing than outright aiding us.
Instead of immediately answering, I turned to the cartel's 'intelligence division' — our netrunners, along with 'internal affairs' and logistics. Sasha, Lucy, Kiwi, Suunri, and Sstala, respectively. If there was information to know, they were the ones tasked with knowing it first and sharing it as soon as they did.
"There's been plenty of chatter through the void," Lucy shrugged. "Every scrap of data that they transmit, we're catching in our nets. We think we have a fair handle on the fleet protecting Nal Hutta as it now stands."
"It's a big one," Kiwi bluntly shared. "But Goren's fleet, the one around the flagship that Atom crippled in the last battle? That's at the core of the Hutt defenses."
"And while the flagship might be a mess that's barely void-worthy, they've still got plenty of tonnage to hold us off," Sasha said. "Six warbarges of various sizes, including the crippled flagship as the heaviest. An even dozen more capital-class ships, consisting of corvettes and frigates. And of course, just about all the starfighters, freighters, and gunships the slugs could ask for."
"I have an ongoing analysis of the resupply runs we've seen coming and going from near Nal Hutta orbit," Sstala nodded. "The numbers there support that assessment of forces. Subject to change, of course."
"That doesn't give the whole story, though," Suunri said. "Nal Hutta also has a planetary shield. Every source I've spoken to who has set foot on the 'Jewel of Hutt Space' confirms that fact. It's not something we can afford to ignore or assault head-on."
"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it," I replied. "I'm thinkin' espionage, but the fleet in orbit is still our first priority between now and then."
"And your own forces in the void?" Dooku asked again, keeping the planning on track with a prompting raise of his brow.
"I guarantee we've got them beat in numbers, probably enough to equalize and even surpass the tonnage disparity," Panam declared. "Us Nomads live and die by our vics. We've got a fleet that would put a Core World to shame, and we're still getting more reinforcements from returning Nomads."
"Got 'em beat in pilot skill, too, I'd say," David boasted. "We'll fly circles around any Hutt fighter. It's their hired help that we'd have to start worrying about."
"About half of that 'hired help' is coming our way, too," Linth reminded. "And they're the good ones. The ones with something to fight for other than just credits. The scratch matters, too, of course, but our half of the hired help is more motivated, I'd say. They've got something to prove, and they'll fly like it."
"What we need most are more capital-class ships to rival the warbarges," Linth continued, musing. "Nothing we have can go head-to-head with a warbarge. But then, we don't have to."
"Hell, we shouldn't," David snorted.
Linth nodded proudly, "Aye, if we're fighting one-on-one with a warbarge, we've already lost the battle. Nah, I don't want those under-armed junkships the Republic calls 'Dreadnoughts' or some other lawfully limited Core World capital ship not worth the title. I want hardy, proven, and nimble corvettes and frigates that can punch above their weight class. Get me more Marauder Corvettes, CR90s, and Corellian Gunships, some Kossak Frigates, some old reliable Hammerheads if we can find them, and I'll win us the void."
"We've got the credits to go on a void-iron shopping spree, choom!" Becca chimed with a grin.
I looked at Sstala for confirmation. She nodded, "We do. Honestly, if we don't spend a few billion credits on fortifying our fleet, we'll have more than I know what to do with. Our netrunning campaigns against Hutt accounts have been almost too effective."
"Thank you, thank you!" Sasha sketched a flourishing bow at the report. "We do what 'little' we can."
"Your problem won't be buying the ships; it'll be getting them sold to you," Aayla said. "Wartime procurement on this scale is… not quite legal based on the Senate's current laws."
"Not Republic space," I reminded. "They've got no teeth here."
"Yes," Aayla huffed. "But the shipyards you'd be buying from are in Republic space."
"I believe I may be of some help there," Saburo spoke up. "The Republic's laws for arming corporations are… lax. Purposefully so. For a relatively small fee, I would be willing to use Arasaka as the Gonk Cartel's proxy to acquire ships that you otherwise wouldn't be able to."
"Deal," I immediately agreed. "Work out the details with Sstala. We'll make sure your corp is compensated for its efforts."
"Ah, but that is not all," Saburo continued. "Arasaka has starships of its own to sell as well. And we boast the shipyards and production lines to supply any numbers our allies might need. Right of first refusal, as it were. For a fair price, of course."
"First refusal for ASI-vics?" Panam asked with visible interest. "That'll make some of my Nomads cream their damn britches."
Linth agreed with an impressed whistle, "Arasaka starships are, like, good good. Quality over quantity, and damn it's good quality. That's the kind of punching up I'm talking about."
"What are we looking at here?" I asked, my eyes narrowing in interest.
"The Tengu-class 'T-Wind' heavy starfighter will be available in the most numbers. I can immediately supply a thousand from our current backstock without issue," Saburo explained. "We also offer the Oni-class heavy gunship. I will personally guarantee that you will not find yourself wanting for firepower with either.
"And for my esteemed ally… I am also willing to part with two experimental Yuurei-class stealth corvettes, straight from the minds of our Womp-Rat-Works that you have recently become familiar with."
"Oh, daaaaammmnn~…" V almost whispered. "The Emperor's breaking out the experimental catalog."
Saburo nodded, "I believe this Interlunar War will make for a suitably impressive debut for our Yuureis."
"Yeah, I'm sure we'll put 'em to work and advertise 'em well, zeroing slugs in the void," I drawled before turning to Linth. "And we'll start snatching up the other ships you want where we can. As many as you can crew."
Sstala shook her head and laughed lightly to herself, "Yes, money… really isn't an obstacle."
"I'll gladly take you up on that kind offer, boss," Linth grinned. "We'll have a fighting fleet in no time, and while we wait for the tonnage to arrive, I'll get right on with recruiting and training. I doubt we'll have any shortage of volunteers."
Dooku nodded approvingly, bringing attention back to himself with a noble clearing of his throat, "Hmm, very good.
"You know your enemy. You know yourself and are working to improve where you can. Now, what is your end goal for this stage of the conflict, and what is the strategy that will take you there?"
I looked to Linth to start us off, but he just smiled, shook his head, and ceded the floor to David with all the pride of an uncle raising up his successor.
David took the proverbial stage then with an eager grin on his face, "Yeah, I've got a few ideas in mind to shock, awe, and slammit on in space, chooms. Can't let you gonks and your new steel have all the fun and fame, now, can I…?"