Chapter 34

Boz Pity, Boz Pity System

Halla Sector

Boz Pity; a nondescript world just north of the western horn of Hutt Space. In this frontier region between Republic, Separatist, and Hutt Space, borders were more of a suggestion than a rule, and most star sectors acted more or less as bookkeeping labels, as most planets were self-governing or lawless. While many astrographers colour this slice of space in Hutt green, worlds like Chalacta–which was arguably a Hutt tributary–also possessed representation in the Republic Senate.

Because actual Hutt authority doesn’t tangibly exist past the well-defined borders of Hutt Space, excluding some rare exceptions such as Jabba the Hutt’s personal fiefdom in the Arkanis Sector. The Hutt clans’ true wealth–the galactic underground, spice runs, and smuggling lanes–don’t slip from their grip, the long-lived species couldn’t care less who controlled the space beyond their borders.

As long as the Confederacy didn’t attempt to crack down on the crime in the region, and Hutt business didn’t suffer, we would be left well alone by the mercenary fleets in Hutt employ.

And that was extremely fortunate for us. Why? Well, like it or not, the Republic offensive succeeded in its primary objective to keep Separatist islands in north and south isolated. The Republic’s Perlemian offensive was a crushing success, by almost every metric that mattered–the Confederacy had been completely pushed out of the Mid Rim, and half of the Foundry was now in Republic hands. In the process, they severed the Foundry’s connection with the Nanth’ri Hook, rendering General Tann’s gains in Bothan Space moot.

The Republic had lost three Sector Fleets in the process, but in exchange they effectively halved the Confederacy’s industrial output in the eastern front. Where the Republic ‘failed’ was the PR disaster that came in the wake of their highly-publicised defeat at Columex. If the Republic had just decided to stop at the Mid Rim-Outer Rim border and rest on their laurels, they might have been able to win the war by next year. But no, they decided to reach for a bridge too far.

And now, both sides were reeling from the disaster, just not for the same reason. From what I can tell, however, we had it worse. The material losses from the campaign were roughly the same for both sides; far too many Separatist squadrons were lost in the initial stages, but we managed to claw back the zero-sum with the battles of Centares and Columex. The real loss for the Republic was the media backlash–except media backlash fades sooner or later. The Confederacy, on the other hand…

The newly established Office of the General’s first mission was to mitigate our two long-term defeats brought on by the campaign.

First, the Office had to somehow recoup the Confederacy’s industrial losses. There were two ways to do this; one solution was to expand the existing military-industrial complex, and the other was to persuade more worlds to the Separatist cause. While General Tann had no doubt sanctioned the expansion of existing infrastructure, that would take time we may not have.

The short-term solution, however, aligns nicely with the Confederacy’s second defeat; the severance of our spacelane connection with our holdings in the Trailing Sectors.

And that’s why Boz Pity was so strategically important; it was smack dab in the centre of a series of neutral, industrialised sectors that could circumnavigate the Loyalist-occupied Perlemian. And thus, we would be able to offset our losses, and re-establish the frontline; two birds with one stone.

Despite being only two and a half months since their relocation, the Overseer Umbrag had transformed an empty field into a sprawling industrial complex. Constructed from what looked like grounded Lucrehulks, Techno Union freighters, and prefabricated buildings, you could even already make out the beginnings of a graving dock. Say what you will about Baktoid droids–they were damn efficient in the right hands.

The nearby star systems could already see the writing on the wall; Boz Pity was well on its way to becoming a foundry of the Confederacy. Naturally, they wanted a slice of the cake. Not only that, we were reaping the dividends of the Republic’s PR disaster in spades. The HoloNet was ripping the Grand Army a new asshole while the Shadowfeed was exalting the Confederate Navy in every regard–from that perspective, wasn’t it obvious which side was winning?

So while General Sev’rance Tann courted diplomats from Bimmisaari, Boonta, Chalacta and Sneeve in one of the complex’s boardrooms, it was my job to squeeze a favourable deal out of the Techno Union. Of course, the other reason was to begin carving away at Dooku’s death grip over the corporations, by convincing them the Office of the General had a much more open hand than that washed up Jedi.

“An exclusivity agreement, then,” I proposed to Overseer Umbrag, “The Tann Administration will only purchase battle droids from the Techno Union and its subsidiaries, in exchange for cheaper prices. We will always prioritise purchasing from this regional office, of course.”

The Overseer didn’t really have a reason to disagree. In fact, I’d imagine every other industrial guild in Separatist space would be green in envy at the proposal. An exclusivity deal with the Pantoran? Even if the net profit decreases, the amount of prestige and advertising that would spawn from the deal would more than recoup the loss.

Not to mention the Techno Union was a commerce guild, and Overseer Umbrag was only one of countless branch managers. By promising to always buy from his franchise before every other Techo Union or Baktoid plant meant he would never run out of demand–in fact it would be more of a question of whether this brand-new industrial park would even be able to keep up.

“We will begin establishing branches in the neighbouring sectors,” Overseer Umbrag’s comment could’ve been mistaken for being wholly irrelevant, “When this war is over, the Lesser Lantillian will be a new foundry for the Confederacy.”

I gave the steel-clad Skakoan a sideways glance as we approached an observation deck overlooking the parade grounds, “You are confident in that claim?”

“We will need investors,” he stated factually, “We will need a new product.”

“I have already been approached by Bunt Dantor,” I told him, “General Tann has greenlighted his project.”

“Dantor is a dreamer–that goes for the whole Research and Development Wing,” Umbrag dismissed scornfully, “We need something tangible, marketable. I have two ideas in mind.”

“You want the Office of the General to greenlight two more projects, Overseer?” I chuckled, “You drive a hard bargain.”

“The Tann Railgun project is far from substantial. There is no point promoting a purely theoretical research venture a century from completion,” Umbrag proclaimed, “We need something high profile–”

We approached the railing; and there was a platoon of BX-series droid commandos in rank and file below. Beefier than regular B1-series droids, with heavy armour, reinforced joints and servos, they were leagues more durable and manoeuvrable than any battle droid I could think of. Not to mention, their enhanced cognition matrices and programming meant they worked best in marauding packs for both infiltration or spearhead missions.

By all means, the BX-series were the cream of the crop. But these weren’t clad in the advertised titanium-reinforced steel, instead a murky black metal–almost matte and drinking the sunlight. I recognised that metal; I had seen it before.

Cortosis.

And interestingly enough, I spotted both Vinoc and Barriss inspecting the droids below.

“Cortosis-weave?” I asked.

“Pure cortosis,” Umbrag answered.

I shook my head, “They won’t survive an hour on the battlefield.”

“They aren’t meant to,” the Overseer clenched his fists, “My product development team had the opportunity to consult Commander Vinoc, who I believe was a former Jedi, two months ago. His conclusion was that cortosis would be best utilised through specialised Jedi execution squads.”

I see… cortosis was a perishingly rare metal, not to mention expensive and hard to refine–as unrefined cortosis would kill even Hutts if in contact with bare skin. While exceedingly resistant to energy weapons like blasters and even lightsabers, it was also brittle and unreliable. Kill squads would theoretically make the most out of the limited supply of cortosis, and give the most bang for the buck.

But most importantly for Umbrag, advertising these droids as ‘Jedi killers’ would definitely draw the kind of interest he wanted. Once these droid commandos cut their teeth on some Jedi and proved themselves, every Confederate general and their mother would want a squad. Even if Jedi weren’t present on the battlefield more often than not, the bragging rights from possessing an anti-Jedi platoon alone would be well worth the credits.

I crossed my arms, observing Vinoc tell Barriss something before they both left the grounds, “What will you need to begin mass production?”

“Mining rights in the Bak’rofsen System,” Umbrag leaned in, clearly interpreting my follow-up as interest, “My prospectors found indications of vast cortosis reserves on both Bal’demnic and in the system’s asteroid belt.”

“That’s in the Auril Sector,” I answered, amused by no small amount, “Mining rights fall under the Commonality’s strict economic regulations, which are purposefully designed to be biassed against megacorporations. You aren’t going to get those rights unless you partner with a local corporation like Loronar; which means you will need the Bunt Dantor’s help.”

“I see.”

I sensed some interdepartmental rivalry there, but hey– not my problem.

“There’s merit in this idea,” I allowed, “I suggest you allow me to take a battalion’s worth of these droids for a… practical exercise. If there’s an exemplary showing, I will give my personal recommendation to the Office of the General. And your second idea?”

Overseer Umbrag hesitated, which told me his second idea was going to be even wilder than the first. Not so much technologically wild as the gravitic slingshot project–the Techno Union wasn’t known for shirking mad science–but politically wild. The sort of thing a mere branch overseer shouldn’t really have permission for.

“Well?” I prompted.

If nothing else, I would have something to laugh about later.

Umbrag took a strained, inorganic breath; “I request we begin the licensed production of Decimator war machines.”

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“That’s…” I paused, “I’m unsure if I can help you with that.”

Decimators were originally an experimental weapons project started by the Republic, before the technology and every functioning model was seized by the Confederate Second Fleet during the Battle of Eredenn Prime. After a brief raid in the Kashyyyk System to secure the control codes, they’ve participated in a number of high profile engagements, such as Sarapin, Krant, and most recently, Columex.

They were by far the most powerful and renowned of the Droid Army’s armoured corps. The thing is, there’s only one place in the galaxy that produces Decimators; Sev’rance Tann’s personal base on Krant.

When they were first introduced, the Decimators were peerless on the battlefield, and as such there was every incentive to obscure the technology and production. Ironically, that has since backfired. With research and development in full swing thanks to the war, technology was swiftly catching up, and soon Decimators will be just another class of tank.

However, they were still essentially the distinctive feature of General Tann’s armies, and now that she was Supreme Commander, she couldn’t licence them out for mass production without coming under scrutiny for blatant favouritism. Either Decimator production went public, or nobody but Krant gets to produce them.

Except, that’s exactly what Umbrag wants. He wants all of Separatist space to believe his branch had been sponsored by the Office of the General. Customers and investment will almost certainly start pouring in.

But the eyes of the Confederacy were upon its fledgling Office of the General; especially since peace appeared to be so close at hand. The very first Supreme Commander of the Confederacy had just been elected without executive sanction–each and every move was being watched; military restructure, industry relationships, and political influences were all going to be intertwined and heavily monitored. Even the slightest risk of favouritism would undoubtedly be met with cries of foul play.

“I do not know the Supreme Commander’s plans for the Decimator Project,” I admitted, “I will broach the topic with her, but this is out of my hands.”

“…I understand,” the Overseer rotated to face me, gliding across the floor, “This aside, we have come to a profitable conclusion. The Techno Union will be pleased.”

I eyed Umbrag carefully, “Yes… let’s hope this relationship remains profitable for many more years to come.”

The Skakoan’s transparisteel-covered eyes were drawn to something behind me, before he stiffly bowed forward for as much as his pressure suit would allow, “Indeed, officer. We will await a favourable outcome for the cortosis and Decimator projects, but for now our new deal will suffice. I will not reserve any more of your time.”

Overseer Umbrag swivelled around, before calling a retinue of droid bodyguards and disappearing into the depths of the compound.

“I cannot say I like that man,” Vinoc announced from behind me.