mismanagement | Open RP

There was no real reason for her to linger there while the bodies were carted away and the blood scrubbed from the platform, but Maketh remained. She had to see. Had to remember. It was important to know the worth of your enemy and what they would do, given the chance. She had been lax, far too soft in her dealings with Krennic, and he had struck. Why not, when she'd given him such a fine opportunity? It was the Imperial way.

What he'd done was effective. Maketh admitted it easily. He'd essentially replaced her entire command with officers who had just watched him enforce his will with Death Troopers. If they'd be loyal to anyone, it would be him. Of course. Officers followed the strongest leader. It had been so in the Academy.

Maketh watched Aresko and Grint dragged away. She'd have to secure something for their families, if they had any. A tragic accident. Blame the rebels. That way they'd get a pension and not a traitor's reputation. It was better to take care of the dead the right way or their families might become a problem later. Revenge was something of a family tradition these days. Maketh still had enough Mandalorian in her to remember that.

Family. Now that was a thought.

The next week was largely uneventful. Krennic's replacements proved themselves effective and Maketh played the part of the dutiful officer. Agent Kallus took charge of the city's defense and things were running smoothly. And if Maketh made a series of off-world communications and arranged for the transfer of credits to some civilians, well, she was only working to secure a future for the dearly departed Taskmaster Grint's young daughter, who had been declared Gifted in her Academy Aptitude Test. After all, the Empire need to work proactively to secure the next generation of talented officers, lest they be seduced to the private sector.

Quietly, Maketh also drained almost her entire personal account and rallied her underworld contacts on Lothal. Several substantial bribes and finder-fees were required but at the end, she found what she was looking for.

The next day, three heavily armored ships dropped out of hyperspace and requested landing clearance. Maketh granted it.

No doubt Krennic's spies would inform him of the fact, but Maketh hadn't tried to hide the arrival. It was rather the point that he found out. He wasn't the only one who could play games.

The ships were carrying a full battalion of armed mercenary, specialized in close-quarter combat. All of them were given Imperial crests, which they applied - somewhat dubiously - to their armor. Their leader - a tall man whose face was still handsome under the scars - greeted her with solemnity. Maketh clasped his arm tight, an intimate gesture. She made sure there were witnesses. All of his troops had thick accidents, unfortunately distinctive, but they were equipped with vocal disruptions and instructed not to interact with anyone before certain introductions were made.

Maketh lead the battalion commander and his two sub-commanders into her office, greeting them kindly. Both of the commanders treated her with grave respect.

Then she left a message for Krennic. Wouldn't he care to join her to discuss recent developments?

She'd even bought wine for the occasion. Good wine, from Coruscant.

She greeted Krennic with a thin smile when he finally did arrive. "Commander. Do come in. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

That had gone well. No doubt there would be an angry message from Tarkin waiting for him but all the other man could do was send angry communications which were replied to dismissively with the implication that it was best to go along with what had been decided on Coruscant. Even a governor who was as incompetent as Tarkin was surely had to realize that was in his best interests at the moment.

He was still keeping close tabs on Galen's progress on the research for Project Celestial Power, checking in almost every night to hear the researcher talk about the kyber crystals. He hoped that he would be returning to Coruscant or Geonosis soon enough to advance the project, knew new there would have to be progress sooner rather than later to keep the Emperor from getting too impatient.

His other pastime was keeping updated with his spies in Tarkin's inner circle, delighted in the news that the governor was still mired in his own conflict while uselessly raging at Krennic's actions.

He looked forward to giving Tarkin another mess upon his return to Lothal. The new officers who had arrived were loyal as expected, keeping him apprised of activities on the planet while he diverted his attention to the mining operations. Extracting the larger crystals while keeping them intact was proving more difficult than expected but he made sure that falling behind wasn't acceptable. He could feel his promotion and potential slipping way with each moment of delay, each moment was the Emperor growing more impatient. The more impatient the Emperor got, the more Tarkin had to gain.

It had been a frustrating day of excuses when an officer reported at an unscheduled ship had landed on Lothal but had been granted clearance to land. And by Maketh, that was certainly something.

She was playing at something, there was always a motive. That was the way of the Imperial military- those who survived and climbed the ranks were those who knew how to play the game properly. He would play, for now.

He sent word that he would join her as soon as he was finished with a few matters. It wasn't long before he arrived at her office, flanked by the death troopers.

The death troopers stayed by the door, taking up their silent post on either side of the door as he entered the room.

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows, curious as to what she had planned. "I must say you have me curious, given that you seem to have gone through so much trouble tonight."

"No effort is too great in service of our glorious Empire," Maketh replied mildly. It had become clear to Maketh that Krennic, however high he'd risen, sought to advance himself before the cause. Governor Tarkin had agreed with her on that point. She inclined her head to the man standing silently at her right, and his two sub-commanders lingering by the window. "Lothal stands posed to become an important center of industry and trade, not to mention the projected growth of the Academy. I must thank you for the idea, Commander. It's become clear that someone must step in and improve our fighting force."

She smiled. The man at her side moved forward. Though he was much taller than Maketh, they shared the same pale eyes.

"I am pleased to introduce Captain Harper Rosen and his commanders. They have signed a contract to serve the Empire's interests on Lothal and train our troops to better serve the Emperor." She paused. Smiled. "My uncle shares your concerns, Commander. They will be addressed immediately."

Harper folded his arms across his armored chest. "Daughter of my sister. I never forget my debts."

"I never doubted you, uncle." Maketh smiled at Krennic. She wondered if he'd realized exactly what she'd done. She had looked long and hard at the problem he posed and concluded that the simple answer was his Death Troopers. None of the officers would be loyal to her when they feared being shot.

Well, now she had her own fighting force. Former Mandalorian supertroopers. All of them loyal to her out of an ancient debt that, after the death of her mother, had passed onto the next living heir. Mandalorians honored their debts to the bitter end. Mercenary forces could be bought, contracts voided with the right bribes, but family -- now that was something else all together.

And, best of all, they now outnumbered Krennic's forces by a significant number.

Mandalorians. Mandalore was a wasteland but the planet still had a tradition of turning out some of the most ruthless soldiers and bounty hunters. Krennic preferred to avoid working with Mandalorians if he could simply because they could be overly volatile and there was no room for that in his plans.

Krennic's expression didn't give anything away at the moment as he took a glass of wine. He appeared as calm as he had been when he had walked in but a careful observer would have seen how hard he gripped the stem of the wine glass as he took a sip. It was a good vintage from a year most likely before the Clone Wars.

"I have no doubt your new...allies are loyal to a fault but I would hate to have to inform the Vizier that you took it upon yourself to assign forces here at a very important time in operations," he said slowly as he set the wine glass down. "Take care, Minister, that you do not overextend yourself."

He knew he was safe enough, he doubted that she would have the poor judgment to move more openly. Despite being incompetent, even Tarkin himself wasn't that foolish do something like that. But perhaps this could work out. If she wanted to make a move to grab power, that would only serve to mire Lothal even more into conflict.

For now, he would be put out, allowing annoyance to cross his features.

Hmm. So he did understand.

Maketh put her hands on her hips with a heavy sigh. "Commander Krennic, I do hope you are not implying I acted with anything but Lothal's best interests in this matter. Or indeed that I would implement such a large change without running it by the chain of command first."

She had. She'd just chosen not to include him in the discussion. Krennic had just enough enemies in the bureaucratic sector to make it possible.

While Krennic might have been clever in the way of politics and poisoned words, Maketh's greatest strength had always been her due-diligence. If a thing was to be done, then she would do it properly. Everything in its place. Each report filed.

Oh, she'd funded the venture entirely with her personal savings - a risky gamble, but one she felt had paid off - and Tarkin had seemed amused by the whole thing. Most likely he was stepping back to see how it ended. There was still a chance Krennic might recover and retaliate in some way she hadn't anticipated.

That was the game. Play it well, soldier.

Maketh dragged her nails along the wine bottle, though refrained from pouring any herself. It would have been easy to poison Krennic that way, but far too obvious. Far too easy. She didn't want him dead. Not right away, at least. First she had to destroy him. "Did you know I was born here, Commander? The winters are especially harsh. But the people endure and are stronger for their suffering."

She smiled, then pushed the bottle a little closer.

"Keep the wine. Consider it a gift."

If that was the game she had chosen to play, Krennic would play along. He had his own networks of those who owed him favors. They weren't on par with the Mandalorians but they didn't have to be. They had to be just good enough to leave Lothal burning long enough to prove what an incompetent fool Tarkin really was.

This could be salvaged. He gave a thin-lipped smile, glancing over his shoulder at the death troopers for a moment before looking over her uncle. "Governor Tarkin no doubt was pleased with your efforts," he remarked curtly as he set the wine glass down.

He just had to remain just a little bit longer while the larger crystals were extracted. Tarkin would be left with the task of getting the rest out, something Krennic didn't envy in the least.

"I can only imagine what a struggle it was surviving on Lothal. Let us both be grateful that the Empire has come to relieve that suffering and improve the lives of citizens here." Honestly, the Minister and every last citizen of Lothal could burn and he couldn't care less. They were disposable, the price that was to be paid for the completion of the greatest superweapon the galaxy had ever seen. "I trust that you will put your new forces to work where they will be effective. I will leave that to you, Minister."

He could fold for now, let her be confident in her victory.

"I do hope so," Maketh replied cheerfully. Tarkin, she was quite sure, hardly cared one way or another. But she had made a move and committed to it thoroughly. There was no backing down now. She inclined her head slightly. "You will, of course, keep me informed of your progress with the crystals. I don't foresee there being any delays, but one never knows. I'm sure you can handle it."

"Progress will, of course, be passed on to Coruscant. I suggest you focus on your other duties, Minister," he said cooly as he took the bottle of wine. It would be a shame to waste a perfectly good bottle of wine, especially on Mandalorians whom he doubted could appreciate a good vintage. "You have all the assistance you need, so I expect that you won't fail to keep Lothal stable and protected from rebel activities."

Any chance of Krennic speeding along along a promotion were long dead. Maketh knew she'd made an enemy. But she had also made a move of her own. That was the risk.

Maketh just smiled at him, hands clasped loosely behind her back.

"You are, of course, welcome to share your concerns with my uncle."

Harper looked rather disgusted at the notion, but nodded in assent. His commanders didn't appear to have opinions on the situation at all. They'd be happy as long as they had something to fight.

Not only would he not advocate for her, he would make sure to stall her career. If she thought Tarkin would be her ticket up, he wouldn't discourage her. She would simply end up frustrated when Tarkin fell even more in the Emperor's esteem. Tarkin wouldn't even be able to advance his own career, let alone the career of someone else.

"We'll have to find something for your uncle to keep occupied with, won't we?" Bored Mandalorians were trouble. He just had to find a way to focus their natural destructive tendencies in a more productive outlet. He raised the bottle of wine to her, a concession for the night as he turned on his heels to leave. The death troopers followed behind him, falling into step. It wasn't until he was back at his quarters that he drank from the bottle of wine, forgoing the glass.

Sitting down at Tarkin's desk, he began to send out summons to those unofficial smugglers and pilots who happened to owe him some favors. They would surely keep the Mandalorians occuied, along with the Lothal rebels.

The newest engagement was utterly tedious and an assault on his sense of propriety, but Harper polished his armor and went about crushing rebel sentiment on the backwater planet called Lothal. It was foolish, unseemly work. His niece had promised him a worthy fight - a Jedi of all things; there was no greater fighter in the galaxy than a true-blood Jedi - but in the end, all Harper and his warriors had to face was a motley collection of farmers and children. Some of them had heart, but no skill to speak of. Harper had three of them beaten to death just to see if the brutality might provoke their allies into launching a campaign of retribution - something - but it was in vain.

The rebels were either too afraid or too smart to face his men openly.

It was a waste of time and his warriors knew it. Harper had a feeling his niece knew it too. She'd gambled, had indeed spent what was probably her entire inheritance on the venture, but her enemy refused to pounce.

Not openly, at least. Imperials were honorless dogs. They fought with lies and poisoned darts in back alleys. And his sister - the great Maize, his twin - had not taught her daughter well enough to avoid the pitfalls.

It was a great shame. Harper felt that more acutely every day. His sister would have been horribly ashamed to know how thoroughly the Empire had corrupted her daughter. A true-blooded daughter of Mandalore. The daughter of Maize Rosen, the woman who had sundered planets. What a waste of honored blood. There were so few of them left these days and only a few of the children understood the weight of their legacy.

If anyone else had called on him for help of that nature, Harper would have removed their head for the impudence. But his niece - his poor, deluded niece - had known just enough of heritage and tradition to leverage it. So he'd come. For his sister. For what might have been.

Harper Rosen, the last son of House Tirga, always paid his debts. Had it not been for his sister's impudence during the Clone Wars, the line would have been slatted to die with him. But Maize had been bold in strange ways, and produced a daughter despite her maiming. A strong, healthy daughter with their grandfather's gold eyes. A heir to House Triga.

A daughter who knew nothing of her heritage and had sworn alliance to the Empire.

That would not do. Harper had no children of his own and had failed to train a successor. His niece - the Minister who walked into battle without armor - was the last. She would carry the legacy of their family; a task, Harper was forced to admit, she was utterly ill-prepared for.

Something would have to be done about that. Maketh was too old for the proper education of a warrior, but she had spine and courage too. Perhaps there was hope for her yet. But only if she were removed from the influence of the Empire and their corrupted sense of honor.

It had to be done. For the honor of their family. For what remained of the true Mandalore.

Harper sipped wine from a delicate glass, and sighed. He disliked this sort of thing. Posturing. But it was all these fools understood. One day, Mandalore would rise again and purge the galaxy of such honorless fools.

The death trooper who'd been assigned to guard the commander's personal quarters groaned. Harper punched him in the head. "Be quiet."

The trooper, possibly, resented being used as a chair.

Harper didn't much care. It hadn't been easy to break into the commander's quarters undetected, but it was necessary to speak with the man without Maketh finding out. And wasn't it true that Imperials liked a display of power?

Harper waited patiently, drinking Krennic's wine and sitting on one of Krennic's famed soldiers. His helmet was resting on Krennic's desk. The blaster Harper kept close. Just in case.

He also rigged a few combat droids to assist him in case Krennic proved clever, but that was only practical.

Krennic had to admit that he was rather pleased with these unexpected surprises. He normally didn't like surprises- especially when it could affect the extraction of kyber crystals he needed. The Emperor wouldn't tolerate any more delays, he couldn't afford to let Tarkin get the edge on him. Lothal would have to be his insurance to keep Tarkin from gaining too much favor.

His contacts were proving useful. Rebels normally didn't operate openly and when encouraged by the right motivations, they were surprisingly skilled at sneak attacks and striking from the shadows. So long as it didn't involve his kyber crystals, he was happy to give them an incentive.

He spent days with only updates here and there, so long as the Mandalorians weren't causing trouble he preferred to keep his attention on the crystals. Overseeing the mining took almost most of his time and he was pleased when another kyber crystal laden star destroyer left Lothal for Geonosis where the crystals would be integrated into the weapon. He crossed his arms, thumb against his lip as he watched the destroyer vanish.

Once it was gone, he spun on his heel to head back to his quarters. He believed he had earned himself a glass of red Andoan wine tonight and perhaps would check on Galen to see how his research was going.

The first sign that something was wrong was that the death trooper outside his door was gone. The second was that the droids nearby were also gone. He paused, gesturing for the troopers behind him to stop. He made sure to be ready to draw his blaster. He didn't want a repeat of what had happened with Lyra, his shoulder still ached from that incident.

He raised his eyebrows to see Harper waiting there. He assumed that if this was a murder attempt, he would have known already. Mandalorians weren't exactly subtle, for the most part.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" He gestured for his troopers to take up their posts on either side of the door, facing the Mandalorian. He kept his tone neutral, however, wrinkling his nose at noticing Harper sitting on one of his troopers.

"The wine is rather good, isn't it? It's a rather nice vintage from Ando," he said as he picked up another glass. "Courtsey of Grand Moff Tarkin, he has a rather good taste in wine."

Harper sipped his stolen wine - Krennic's wine. Well, if the man wanted his things to remain untouched, then he should have hidden them better. "I was considering whether it would bring me greater honor if I kill your personal guard one by one, or if I simply presented my niece with your head."

It was all said quite mildly. Harper sipped the wine. It was good. "Neither please me, Commander. You are no warrior. What would be the point?"

He gave the death trooper under him a careless prod. The man was still alive. Mostly. He made a gurgling sound.

Harper frowned. "Be quiet. We are going to talk, Commander. I have decided."

He didn't argue Harper's observation out of any pride. While he was a decent shot and was oversaw military commands, he was an engineer at heart. It wasn't an argument he was going to win with someone like Harper.

"Oh? I am sure it must be fascinating, I wouldn't dream of missing it," he said as he took a seat, taking a sip of the wine. His check in with Galen was going to wait, apparently.

So there would be no pointless argument. Good. Harper ran his thumb along the edge of the wine glass. His gauntlets made an odd whistling sound, not all together pleasant. "You are standing in the way of something I mean to take."

Harper tapped the glass, perhaps a little harder than he should have. It didn't crack.

Then, quite deliberately, he poured what was left of the wine onto the death trooper's head.

The man twitched.

Harper didn't smile.

"Don't mistake me. The schemes of your Empire are meaningless to my warriors beyond what you pay us to do." Harper dropped the glass carelessly. That time it did break. The death trooper had stopped moving. Perhaps he'd finally earned the name. "But my niece is the last of our house. A pure blooded daughter of Mandalore. Even a man like you must recognize how precious that is. After all, she has made you her enemy."

"And what is it you wish to take?" The kyber crystal operation wasn't exactly well known and if Tua had disclosed that, even Tarkin wouldn't be able to protect her from either Krennic or Mas Amedda.

"Yes. I know a bit about Mandalore to understand," he remarked as he leaned back in his chair. He wasn't surprised by Harper's words, most Imperials considered each other at least potential rivals. No one entered Imperial ranks looking to make friends. Allies were only useful so long as the other person had something to offer. "What do you propose then?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with." Harper smiled just a little. It wasn't a kind expression. "Nor something you'd care about overly much, I think. Your kind knows nothing of honor. Today that makes you useful."

And not a disgrace to whatever woman had spat him out.

What Harper meant to take, quite simply, was his family's legacy. It was, perhaps, a tad trickier than he'd anticipated.

"I propose something you'll likely enjoy. You seem the type." Harper grins suddenly, baring his teeth. "I want you to ruin Maketh Tua's military career. Thoroughly."

"And what do I get in return?" he asked, his expression remaining neutral. He had honestly planned to do just that, taking her down along with Tarkin. Two for the price of one, just for his own personal satisfaction.

"You are asking me to ruin the career of a fellow Imperial officer. We may be without honor but there is still loyalty in our shared devotion to the Emperor."

Always looking for the advantage, wasn't he? Harper shrugged carelessly. "Don't lie to me, Imperial. I don't like it."

Then, quite calmly, he reached down and slit the Death Trooper's throat.

"Must you?" Krennic's tone was slightly irritated, blood was so difficult to get clean. There were always better ways to handle things but Mandalorians were so predictable.

"You never answered my question. You are taking a valuable resource from the Empire, after all."

"Get another one."

Death Troopers and carpets were both replaceable. A man like Krennic could afford the expense.

Harper stood with a sigh, stretching his arms up toward the ceiling. The death trooper wasn't bleeding overly much. He'd been dying already. Possibly already dead. Harper hadn't checked. That hadn't been the point. You needed to make an impression with these people, speak a language they understand. And no one, not even a fool in a starched up uniform, forgot what a sharp knife and bared throat mean.

Not that Krennic was truly a fool. Harper just liked calling him one.

"Not so valuable, I think." Harper moved to examine Krennic's desk. That too was for show. Just to prove he could. He'd already checked for traps and hidden cameras. "A minor player on a minor planet, despite its ambitions. And yours."

Harper dragged his gauntlets along the surface of Krennic's desk, wondering how far he could go before getting a visible rise out of the man. Probably not much further.

"Normally I would threaten the lives of your men, or those scientists you imported to work your precious mines," Harper said, quite conversationally. "But I think you can replace those quite easily. So I thought, what does a man with no honor stand to lose? What would ruin him?"

Harper clapped his hands together cheerfully.

"Time, obviously. And my men are so very bored, who am I to stop them from keeping in practice?"

It was a deceptively simple threat. Krennic had a deadline, one that he'd emphasized heavily to Maketh and her staff. He could afford no more distractions for his project. Harper had a battalion of Mandalorians armed and bored of their assignment.

"I suspect I have a good idea what Mandalorians do when they are hard pressed for something to do." But he also knew that they hadn't been entirely bored. Rebel activity had been on the rise, just enough to keep things from becoming too quiet. But that couldn't keep up forever. He had to just had to pull things out a little longer and eventually, Tarkin would return and Krennic was hoping the Mandalorians would be willing to stay.

He knew Tarkin would appreciate their presence.

"What is your end game in ruining Minister Tua's career?" he asked, watching Harper intently. "Do you intend to sweep her back to Mandalore in disgrace?"

Now that would be something, deprive Tarkin of an ally even before he returned.

That wasn't disagreement. Good. A bargain could be made, as distasteful as such things were. Unfortunately it was needed in this case.

Harper shrugged. "I intend to secure my sister's legacy. Mandalore is a disgraced planet, rotting from the inside. But there are enough of her true children remaining to create something from the ashes. My niece is clever and has a respectable spine. She will be useful in seeing that through. And she is, of course, my sister's child. Am I not obligated to secure a glorious future for her?"

Harper also intended to secure his own legacy in turn. He had no children of his own and was running out of time to produce an acceptable heir through other means. But removing his niece - the daughter of his great sister - from the Empire's corrupting influence would be a start. It was far too late to make a good warrior out of Maketh, bu there was enough spirit in her that something else might be made instead. Something worthy.

"Of course. I completely understand."

He regarded Harper thoughtfully, running a finger along the rim of his wine glass. "But you are not being completely honest with me, are you? You're Mandalorian and if you were truly determined you could simply take her to Mandalore, it wouldn't matter if she was willing or not," he pointed out.

"Do you truly fear that the Empire would retaliate over a mere Minister against a planet like Mandalore?" There wasn't much left of that planet, it had little value to the Empire in the grand scheme of things. "Or is it your pride at stake?"

The look Harper gave Krennic was not kind. "Don't insult me, Imperial. If I intended to take her, I would have done it years ago. It would have been easy. I considered it when she was a cadet."

He'd even gone to speak with his young niece and been rather horrified to see her stuck in that white uniform. Kindly, he'd offered her a place with his warriors - a way to honor her mother - but Maketh, still a child at the time, had refused.

For better or worse, Harper had honored her choice. Occasionally he regretted that.

"Slaves make useless warriors," Harper said abruptly. "It is too late to make her a proper one. Your Academy saw to that. But I have seen her mettle and there is some hope. I want her to join us willingly. It is for the best. And should I be inclined to kill many souls in order to burn the Imperial stain out of her, then rest assured, Krennic, I shall do just that."

He smiled, tipping his head to the side. Once it had been the gesture he'd used in catinas to make strangers fall into his bed. He'd been handsome in those days and knew he still was. Occasionally people found it off-putting, which was why Harper never wore his helmet when bargaining with them.

"Still." Harper clapped his hands together, smiling. "I do not think I shall kill you. Much as my niece desires your head, it would not bring me honor. It is a shame. I'm sure it would have looked nice on my wall. But, no matter. I'm sure there can be other uses for your head."

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