Governor's Gambit - Star Wars SI into Imperial Governor

Chp-44: A Million Souls

Sitting in my office, my foot tapping against the floor, I was…nervous. Really nervous. We were close to a week into 0BBY. Otherwise known as 7977 in the Coruscant Reckoning Calendar.

And things were going…well? Suspiciously so. Sure, I got shot down and almost killed, but Grant and the Inquisitor were at that moment attacking the Cult. For all the power of the Wretches, I very much doubted that they could survive the combined bloodlust of those two maniacs.

Aside from that, things were looking well. A new Imperial Mining Company was brought together to start mining the other planets in the Edin system, and I approved some more scouting of Minda 2 to see if that green deathtrap had anything worthwhile.

Hell, I had even hired the Loyu Family as full time employees! They got jobs as teachers at the Guild, and were paid extra to take on high-priority bounties and missions that I didn't trust other mercs to carry out.

No, the thing that was bothering me was the fact that my mother had yet to arrive. She said 2 years, and given what I knew about her from the og Las's memories, she was not one for being late.

But she wasn't here yet.

Maybe she was on the Death Star? But I had no guarantee, since I don't know when in 0BBY the DS1 goes boom. Mugwuffin hasn't woken up screaming, so I'm pretty sure Alderaan is still in one piece.

It was annoying. There were three empty mugs of hot chocolate on my desk, and only Oioro's judgemental look stopped me from pouring another one.

I sighed. My mission here was almost finished. If I succeed? Well then, mother dearest will clap a little, call me a success, and then I can tell her I want to stay and make it better. It'll sound convincing.

After that? I fake my death. I can grab a few bombs, and last I heard thermal detonators make quick work of any remains if they're close enough.

From there I can jump in my ship and head off into the world. With some better bacta to fix my scars, a fake mustache and an accent change back to good old 'Merican, I could hide reasonably well.

Wait a year or two, then use my hidden funds to start a small shipping company, get even more money(but not too much), and retire well. I'll be comfortable, happy, and not bored because of the company I would be running. Plus Mugwuffin would be there.

Maybe I could even settle down, get married. The whole nine yards.

But first, I had to convince my mummy dearest not to kill me.

I sighed again, which considering how much I was doing that, there was no way it was healthy.

Hopefully Grant's little murder spree was going well.
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Seventh Brother
Edin System, Highreach

As he commanded his LECA to swing its blade, he felt elated. The ease with which he cut through the hordes of Wretches was practically euphoric.

As one of the recently named Grave Titan's swung a meaty arm made of arms, he simply jumped back, the wings of his newly named Dread Unit flaring, the repulsorlifts flinging him upwards.

The blaster on his arm roared as he landed, peppering the creature and weakening a limb.

It swung again, its many mouths screaming in agony. He could feel the rage, the anger, the pain of each of those trapped in it. Their minds and bodies twisted to this extent.

Regardless, his hands twitched around the controls, the LECA dodging the swing easily. His sword flashed upwards, and the arm fell to the ground, writhing. As the creature wailed once more, he swung once more, the oversized vibro-blade cutting through the flesh with ease.

The Force screamed at him in a different tone than usual, and he instinctively dodged as another of the creatures attacked from behind.

Before he could retaliate, a barrage of green laser fire turned the creature into ash. Turning, he saw the Commanders much larger, bulkier Imperial Shield. It lumbered forward, its many weapons annihilating the creatures in droves.

They were at one of the cults larger hideouts, clearing it out with less backup to allow more forces to be directed against the other hideouts. This combined with a near constant amount of orbital bombardment kept the cultists stuck inside their hidey-holes.

With the Edin System's Vindicator in orbit, throwing the occasional turbo laser shot in the known locations of cult bases, they weren't leaving anytime soon.

Looking around the large cave, Seventh could sense life no longer.

"That seems to be all, Commander. Let us proceed."

She gave her affirmative, and the two made their way to the transport.

Mere minutes later, they arrived at the main base. Already, their forces were entrenched in the canyon, flinging copious amounts of fire down at the wretches. There were large craters where the Vindicator had provided covering fire, but the canyons weren't stable enough to sustain such a thing, and if the entrance to the cave system collapsed it would delay their efforts and allow the enemy to potentially escape.

Still, as the transport dropped them off, a trio of LA-AG's swooped by, their wing mounted beam weapons cleaving through the hordes.

As more fire rained down, Seventh made a choice.

Gathering up the remaining LECA's, he ordered a full frontal assault on the compound. They would cut their way through the cave system.

He could hear the Commander's laughter through the comms and she obliterated the creatures, and he couldn't help but agree.

As the Dark Side flowed through him, enhancing every swing, pushing the servos to the max, guiding his movements, he never felt more free.

Cutting through the myriad of forces, little was left behind. As they advanced deeper into the caverns, the Dark Side only grew stronger.

And stranger.

The Force felt…odd, here. Like it was chained. Not unlike how he visualized it within himself, but here it was more…real.

As they entered the center room, it opened up before them. A massive cavern, easily four times taller than the Commanders , and very open. In the center was a raised podium, upon which stood a robed figure.

Immediately, the soldiers opened fire, only for their blaster bolts to ping harmlessly on a shield.

A shield of the Force.

In front of the figure was a dagger that reeked of the Dark Side, of an ancient power that raised every hair on Seventh's arms. It was shattered, the dagger, but its metal fragments were arranged in its original shape. It floated above what seemed to be a large stone box of sorts.

Around the podium were other robed figures, cloaked like the central one.

It spoke.

"Hello, pitiful creatures." it's voice rasping and cruel.

He activated his loudspeaker. "What manner of creature are you?"

It laughed, a rasping, dry sound. "I…I am one of the chosen!" it exclaims, throwing off its hood.

Beneath is what once might have been a recognizable sentient creature, but is now a twisted mound of flesh. Many eye's sprout out of its face, its cracked lips and jagged teeth twisted into a smile.

"Chosen…by the will of our Eternal Master to raise a grand army, and await His return!"

It turned towards the knife once more, the Force practically screaming. In agony, in ecstasy, in a million things. He shut it out, and ordered a full frontal barrage on the enemy.

It was too late.

The creature slammed the knife into the box, cracking the stone. Simultaneously, the bowed supplicants around it started to bleed, from every orifice.

The creature retracted the knife, and watched the box. From it rose…

Power

A humanoid figure, clad in pitch black armor, chains of ethereal energy linking it to the knife. It twitched, the anger, rage and fear evident through the Force. Whoever this was, they were trapped.

Unfortunately for them, Seventh didn't really care all that much.

Already his blaster was raised, a stream of death flying towards the figure. Their head jerked towards it, and up went their hand. The bolts diverted course slightly, just barely missing the figure as they kicked off of the podium with incredible force.

Seventh knew he couldn't win head on. Thankfully, he had the Dread Unit.

Engine roaring, he zipped around the air, dodging the figures' wild swings. Eventually, they grew tired of the chase, and with a pained roar, swung their saber sharpley. The Force itself seemed to coalesce, becoming an invisible blade. He just barely dodged, his senses screaming at him to movemovemovemove!

Behind him, the swing impacted the cavern wall, creating a multiple foot deep gash in the stone.

This game of deadly cat and mouse continued while the Commander poured her power into trying to take down the energy shield created by the cults leader.

"Commander! I can't hold this one back much longer!"

"The shield won't fall!" she yelled back, before noticing something. As the figure slashed the cavern's walls, the floor trembled, and the cult leader with it.

Her eyes widening, she commed the inquisitor again.

"Get that thing to slash the shield!" she yelled, aiming some of the smaller blasters towards the figure and firing. Predictably, the figure dodged with ease, deflecting the rest, but it gave the Inquisitor enough time to move into position.

Dodging and weaving, he traded blows with the figure, and yet was unable to hold out for long. While the Dread Unit's vibro-blade was powerful, its material was not dense or strong enough to resist lightsabers for long. And even then, the figure was stronger than the LECA itself.

It terrified him.

Another dodge, but a second too slow, and his sword was shorn in two. Cursing he dropped the handle and reoriented, firing an inciendiary fromt he projectile launcher. As he did, he fired his blaster. The figure dodged the projectile, and deflected the blasters, but failed to realize his plan.

The bolts landed, detonating the incendiary behind the figure, pushing them forwards towards him. It was the perfect opening for them, and they used it, bring down their saber. Again, the Force screamed at him, and he listened.

Putting every ounce of power the Dread Unit had towards the flight systems, he dodged in the last second, rocketing to the right as the saber came down.

The sheer force of the attack ripped the Dread Unit's left arm off without even touching it, as the attack careened towards the shield.

Then, it impacted.

The force was immense, the two powers raging at each other. An unstoppable force versus an immovable object.

However, the ground below the shield was not so immovable. It shattered, breaking the podium and unbalancing the cult leader. It dropped the dagger, shattering into pieces on contact with the floor.

As soon as that happened, the shield fell, and the Commander turned the creature into paste.

All the while, the figure which had almost killed him, which had near effortlessly outdone him, fell to the ground unconscious.

Dread Unit slammed into the other side of the cavern, repulsorlifts barely keeping it from being flattened.

Seventh just…sat there. Breathing. Being alive. For a few seconds there was nothing. No Force. No obligations. No imminent danger.

Just him, his cockpit, and his breathing.

Then it all came back, and he hit the emergency release, popping the door off the cockpit and stepping out, nursing his wounded ribs.

A few minutes later, they were securing the area. The shards of the dagger were being put in separate containment units, to be transported with him back to Coruscant once properly secured in a dozen layers of confinement. He would have preferred a quicker process, but the Governor, upon hearing about this daggers seeming ability to create Wretches, insisted on the extra layers of security.

Seventh was too tired to truly argue against a measure he agreed with, no matter how inconvenient.

The figure, on the other hand, was different. They were a key component of all of this, and would undoubtedly help raise his standing in the Inquisition back to its previous place if he brought them back alive. Their lightsaber was taken and put in containment, and the currently they were working on removing the armor, which was somehow stuck to its wearer.

So there he sat, on a piece of rubble outside the cavern, a bacta patch healing his ribs. Contemplating his next moves. The other Inquisitors would be less than pleased by his success, but would refrain from moving against him so soon after a victory. Especially with their order having few members left.

As he contemplated this, something happened.

He felt it through the Force. Unimaginable death.

A million souls crying out in terror.

A million souls silenced.
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Hi there folks! Sorry for posting this chapter at an odd hour, I spent most of the day goofing off and planning the first chapter of that PJO fic I talked about. This is the second to last chapter of the Arc before Governor's Gambit goes on hiatus. The next chapter will take a little longer to be posted because I'll be posting it in tandem with the first chapter of the new fic, so I can link it at the end.

The PJO fic will follow an OC-SI dropped into a much expanded version of the PJO world. I'm talking about different magic systems, factions, and much more. I always thought that the magical underground felt small in those stories, like there was so much just out of sight. It came to me that maybe that could be intentional in-universe. Demi-gods, especially those in the Camps, are known for getting quests, getting into trouble, and generally having more Divine attention on them. Any magical underground of people with the Sight, like mercenaries, mages, and even governmental organizations dedicated to regulating magic would steer clear, cause no-one fucks with the Gods and gets away with it easily.

To me, that says that so much could be just out of sight. And I want to make something that follows that. I probably could just make it into a standalone low-fantasy story, but the PJO name means more attention which means more feedback which I really need. It also helps fill in worldbuilding gaps, and gives me more overarching plot points to hold onto, like how the fall of the Empire is super important to Las even though he's in such an isolated area of the world.

As always feedback and commentary is appreciated.

Thanks for reading!

-Freefaller