Chapter 146: Political Hydra
Chapter 146: Political Hydra
What Izuku had badly wanted to do, now that Geonosis was just a cleanup operation, was head straight to Randon. Kashyyyk, he felt and others agreed, was almost certainly going to be the place that felt the next major thrust from the CIS. Or, at least, the next major thrust that the League of Free Stars would be in any position to intercept in some fashion. Uyter would technically need to ‘fall’ first but, at least according to League Intelligence, that world was heavily leaning towards the CIS politically. Most likely, the only reason it hadn’t already switched sides was that it had been told not to. An opinion shared by the Republic’s new Military High Command, who were cutting that world out of the loop as much as possible and had sent it only a light picket force to act as a tripwire.
From Uyter, the CIS would have the option to either charge down the Randon Run to hit Kashyyyk, or else take the Lesser Lantillian Route. Either would culminate in access to Zeltros, and from there a shot straight into the Core Worlds via Commenor. The fact that this would link them to both Neimodia and Cato Neimodia, as well as get them distressingly close to linking up with CIS South if they could take Quellor and pincer Exodeen between them, didn’t help. Any way you looked at it, the attack vector looked too good for the CIS to pass up on. Doubly so since none of the existing Republic fleets were in position to help.
Fortunately or unfortunately, the section of the Randon Run between Uyter and Kashyyyk was fairly desolate. There were no major worlds that would serve as stumbling blocks for the CIS, whereas their other option of the Lesser Lantillian had several worlds that might do the job of anchoring another Republic fleet larger enough to at least attempt to fight back. Worlds that included Onderon, whose King had purchased or traded for a number of League-built warships. Nothing bigger than a frigate, but enough to be a respectable picket force all on its own, and the orbital support and logistics to help anchor that local fleet could help support far more.
Frankly, the only reason anyone could see that the CIS might decide to take that path instead of going through Kashyyyk was that hitting Zeltros from Kashyyyk would mean having to deal with Umbara. Umbara was, as it happened, one of the very rare worlds within the Republic who might well be able to match even the League’s tech base. Which would make it a less-than-ideal target for the CIS to challenge in the first place, but also potentially one with a lot of rewards if they took it without glassing the world entirely. On balance, Izuku personally figured it was going to be Kashyyyk anyway, even if only because Trandosha would serve as a ready-made ally for more ground troops and the CIS would want the Umbaran tech.
The League’s actual analysts couldn’t agree one way or the other, though.
Either way, what he wanted to do hadn’t been the practical thing to do. He had sent Aayla and Zavra off to link up with the League representatives on the Wookiee homeworld. Both of them were known to the Wookiees, having worked alongside them in during the Hutt Crusade and earned their respect in doing so. The Wookiees, at least, also knew how close he was to both of them, so sending them to Kashyyyk would be a strong signal of solidarity and reassurance. The pair could also use the downtime, with the Wookiees home being a strong ambient Force Nexus which, despite how dangerous the Shadowlands were, was honestly very neutral in the Force. Combined with how welcoming the Wookiees themselves always were to allies, it would help Aayla in particular bounce back from any backlash from the wholesale slaughter that had been Geonosis.
Zavra, of course, didn’t really need that. The Wookiees, however, really liked her. For all that they were, in many ways, gentle giants, the Wookiees were still primal in a way most species were not. For that reason, their hunters/warriors at least really clicked with Zavra’s…Zavraness. The fact that the species happened to have a solid knack for tech and Zavra was a slightly mad inventor, in addition to her warrior half, only meant that a wider selection of the Wookiee population clicked with her. Aayla could handle the diplomatic side, while Zavra just existed and brought morale and mood up in the process of that existing.
Izuku, unfortunately, wasn’t nearly so lucky as to go party with the Wookiees. Honestly, he’d have even taken politics with the Wookiees over his actual fate, since they were pretty forthright and blunt with their version of such things. Instead, he’d been forced at not-quite-blaster point to return to Tythe for politics involving the League as a whole. Now, he was faced with a very annoyed and harried Azatha Vy, the Twi’lek woman who was the Grand Chairman of the Council of Free Worlds. She and Admiral Lin had been keeping a lid on the League, with help from a few other key individuals, but she hadn’t yet run out of steam fifteen minutes into her lecture on him running out to ‘play with his battleships.’
“-and don’t get me started on that fool move you apparently pulled with taking a group of MECHS out into active combat! You are the lynchpin for the entire League! Not some droid or soldier we can throw away in a glorious charge! If you’d gotten your fool ass killed, do you know what a kriffing nightmare it would have been to try and replace you? You are THE Sovereign of the League. You don’t even have an heir! Seriously, as often as you bang Aayla, you could have done with knocking one out before this, you know! At least then we could try and keep it hereditary, even if I know that’s not what you want!”
Izuku groaned, trying hard to actually listen rather than tuning the woman out. She always seemed to know when he did that. Normally, the fact that she was so casual with him was a good thing. Having first gotten to know him when he was only the Master of Tythe, a planet with barely any population when she’d become its Governor, she’d never developed the reverence for his position others had. Which, again, normally meant it was easier to work with her. Unfortunately, she also knew he wouldn’t just Force Choke a Bitch if she ranted at him for what she considered legitimate reasons.
It wasn’t like she was exactly wrong, either.
Unfortunately, Aayla and he had long ago discussed that very topic and Aayla just flat out wasn’t interested in having kids. She’d been raised Jedi and, more specific to her, she’d put a lifetime into carving her body into its physical peak. The idea of what pregnancy would do to that peak was appalling enough to her that the Jedi dogma had found purchase in that one specific place, and she had zero desire to have children as a result. Zavra flat out wasn’t capable of it after all her modifications and Dark Side channeling, Shaak Ti was both still an active Jedi and genetically incompatible anyway. Sabé had admitted she was more into women than men, with Izuku being an exception, rather than a rule, and was a bit off put by the idea.
Despite technically having a harem of women, only Padmé had expressed any interest in having children with him, and until recently that had been politically untenable. For that matter, it still kinda was. Too quick a turn around into an open relationship with her, right after she left the Republic Senate, would bring into question every deal she’d ever brokered between them and the League. In a few years? At that point they could openly go for it. Padmé was only twenty-five, so it wasn’t like they were in any rush from a biological standpoint. Which, of course, didn’t solve the whole ‘lack of an heir’ thing Vy was complaining about. Even if, as she’d said, he didn’t want leadership to pass down like that anyway.
Finally sensing that the Chairman was properly winding down, having mostly been using him as a vent for her frustrations with the galaxy at large, Izuku finally cut her off.
“Enough, Vy. You aren’t telling me a single thing I didn’t know. I made the correct choices to deal with the situation, and you’re mostly frustrated, understandably frustrated, that all the nexu herding has landed in your lap so far.”
The Chairman’s mouth snapped shut and, for a moment, she swelled up as if she was going to launch into another rant. A few long seconds later, she simply sagged instead, her head coming down to smack the table of the conference room they were meeting in. She groaned into it, but gave a half-muffled acknowledgement of his point…while also giving him the middle finger with one hand.
“Yes, kriff it. It really was reckless, mind you, and you can’t keep doing that. But you’re right that I’m mostly just pissed at trying to get all our nutjobs to pull in the same direction. I can’t believe that Councilman Ohnaka, of all people, is a relative voice of sanity in the chaos.”
Izuku snorted. Ohnaka had moved on from being president of Sriluur to its representative in the Council, and he was still just as colorful a character as ever. That said, he was also a legitimately talented, if very unorthodox leader for his people. Underneath all the…color…was someone with a shrewd mind and a distinct pragmatism that the majority of politicians lacked. He was a dealmaker, and one who saw the payoff of big gambles while still being able to manage the risks of taking them.
To Hondo, the current galactic chaos screamed ‘opportunity,’ and he was heading the bloc of the Council that supported the expansion of the League. Despite that expansion putting them in direct conflict with the CIS, and potential conflict with the Republic as worlds left it for the League. Other, more conservative, political blocs within the League wanted to fort up and let the CIS and Republic smash each other silly. Those groups saw the expansion to bring in more worlds as an unwarranted risk they wanted nothing to do with. Not when they were already doing just fine growing internally.
Thankfully, Izuku still had firm control over the final position the League took, which had prevented those conservative blocs from accomplishing much. Yet Chairman Vy still had to try and placate them so that they wouldn’t get actively disruptive on an internal level. While Izuku could control the League’s final position, the freedom they gave their individual worlds meant they didn’t exactly have to get behind his position and push. So long as they paid their due into the greater League economy, how they did so was up to individual worlds. Meaning they had to be appeased if he wanted to, for example, convince them to recruit more soldiers or build more munitions factories.
“Well, now that you’ve got it out of your system, how about you give me your take on the pulse of the Council. I’ve read the reports, of course, but you’ve had a firsthand look at everything, including how our…new members…are taking to the League.”
Vy grumbled but pulled herself up from her position face-down on the table. Glowering at the amused smirk she caught on Admiral Lin’s face, the Twi’lek woman sighed and started a much more useful stream of conversation.
“Starting with the last thing first, the new worlds we’ve brought on board have honestly been one of the smallest issues. At least on the political side. Amidala has been Force-sent on that side of things, as she is incredibly well-regarded by the region of space most of our new converts have come from. Despite not being a Council representative officially yet, she’s gotten the newbies organized, crossing their t’s and dotting their i’s for fast-tracked addition to the Council. Something that is keeping them happy on the politics side, as many of them had feared long waits before getting proper representation. Some of them will have long waits, but they’ll also have a highly specific set of criteria they need to work toward, with full assurance they’ll get their due once they tic the boxes correctly.”
Izuku nodded at that. It was how the League had been set up from the start, and something that was distinctly different from how the Republic did things. Instead of having highly specific requirements and criteria, joining the Republic these days meant you needed to bribe, borrow, and browbeat. It was a matter of favors traded and politicking to somehow convince the ‘mighty powers of the Core’ that your world in particular would benefit them, so they should let you in. A process that could take anywhere from decades to centuries, unless you had something truly spectacular to offer.
The League, instead, had extremely specific criteria outlined in its constitution for when and how you got representation. Some were for protection of a world’s population, like stiff anti-slavery laws and minimum education standards. Others were for degree of contribution you gave toward the League in the form of economic or miliary input. All were explicitly defined and possible to check off the list one or more at a time, in order to get your votes.
Rana had made a disgruntled noise even as he nodded at Vy’s statements, causing him to switch his gaze to her as a result, waving for her to say whatever it was. Though from the look on Vy’s face, she already knew and both sympathized…and was glad whatever it was wasn’t her problem.
“They might be fine on the political side, happy even. On the military side every single one of them is screaming for ships or stations to protect them, even if their world isn’t anywhere near a line of advance. I’ve had to disperse far more of our lighter ships as pickets than I’d like just to shut them up. Both so they stop bothering me, and so they don’t escalate to Vy.”
Vy nodded confirmation at that, her emotions telling Izuku she was grateful to the First Admiral for doing that. Izuku grimaced at the reality of the situation, but wasn’t particularly surprised. Those worlds had come to the League primarily for protection in the first place, after all. Unfortunately, despite having a lot of ships compared to their size, the League wasn’t the CIS or Republic. They didn’t have the raw numbers to establish serious fleets over every world. Not even over every important world. They had to take a nodal defense stance, though they could thankfully do so far better than either other power due to the Jump Gate Network that was still slowly expanding. Speaking of…
“Have the Jump Gates for Dac, Jabiim, Randon, and Naboo come online? Those will make it a lot easier to shuffle our assets in a hurry. At least for anything smaller than a Paladin.”
Sadly, Mei still hadn’t overcome the bottleneck on portal size enough to get Paladins and Mirukos through the Jump Gates. Though she claimed she was making progress, and that if her efforts worked it would be relatively easy to refit the currently-in-use Gates to a new standard. Still, even the ability to move large numbers of Volitions around was a big deal, as the CIS fleet that had tried to hit Ossus could have attested…if any of them had survived.
“The Dac Gate is online, but the others are still works in progress. None of the other systems had the right local manpower in bulk to help speed the process up. Randon and Naboo will come online next, since both did have some people they could throw at it. With Randon, in particular, it was more a security issue that kept us from using who they had for anything more than basics. Naboo it was mostly the initial distance we had to move all the parts.”
Izuku nodded. That all made sense. Where with Dac it would have been easy to draw from the Mon Calamari military’s Engineering Corps to help speed the process, in Randon most of those with related experience would have been civilians. Ones whose loyalty could be bought more easily and thus couldn’t be trusted with any sensitive information about the Gates. No one was delusional enough to believe any side of the conflict was unaware of the Jump Gate Network at this point, but that didn’t mean anyone but the League had a clue how they worked. Hopefully, at least. Naboo of course, was simply at the very edge of the League’s new space, down a shakily controlled hyperlane. In truth Enarc was technically in the better position as a nodal fleet base, but it had been a Trade Federation regional headquarters until entirely too recently.
“Right, good to know. But back to you, Vy.”
The Chairman nodded and took up where she’d left off.
“Right, focusing on our worlds that already have representation then, things are a bit more mixed but solidly positive overall. The fact that the economic boom hasn’t even slowed, despite the war, is largely keeping everyone happy. As, for that matter, is the fact we’ve been able to report victories. That said, the cost of the Geonosis campaign isn’t going to sit well with anyone, not even those most in favor of interfering in the war. For now, the fact that the victory was lopsided in our favor is enough, but I’ll warn you outright that there is no appetite to spend lives on that scale again. Not for what most are seeing as a war where the Republic is rightfully getting its asshole kicked in. Remember, none of our voting worlds, even the ones that are Ex-Republic, have a lot of sympathy to spare for them.”
Izuku winced at that. Both at the reminder of the toll Geonosis had taken, and at the fact that sympathy for the Republic was…lacking. Virtually all League worlds that already had places on the Council had reasons to dislike the Republic. Fortunately, they also had reasons to dislike groups like the Trade Federation and Techno Union. That just meant that, at best, most of the worlds were neutral though. Getting them to want to stick their proverbial oar in to help either side wasn’t going to be the easiest sell, in all too many cases.
“Will interfering at Kashyyyk cause additional issues?”
Surprisingly, both Vy and Rana shook their heads in the negative on that, both effectively instantly. It was Vy that explained, and the explanation made sense.
“Not in the least. The Wookiees made an outsized impact during several campaigns during the Crusade, despite their relatively small numbers. Better yet, they did so without actually being a part of the League, standing little to gain from their participation as a result. The League worlds, particularly the ones where the Wookiees took direct part in ground battles, remember that. In the case of Kashyyyk specifically, both the public and political leadership are of the same mind. They are allies. Staunch and stalwart ones that are worth protecting. In fact, if you’re right about the CIS attacking them next, it will do a lot to turn opinions on the war against the CIS.”
Rana spoke up next, adding onto the bigger picture.
“Part of the reason that the people aren’t more pissed off about Geonosis and the losses there is because of Naboo. Like Kashyyyk, the Naboo are seen as a core ally, in large part because of how heavy involvement of the Gungans in our military was at the start of the Crusade. The CIS attacking Naboo pissed people off. Enough so that even the price paid on Geonosis was worth it, since it could be pitched as making the CIS hurt for daring to attack Naboo.”
Vy nodded and cut in.
“That said, there’s only so much stomach for that. Supporting allies is one thing, and removing a threat in our backyard was also understandable. If you’re hoping for the populace to get onboard with taking the war to the CIS on a larger scale, though? That’s going to be a tough sell, unless they can be convinced it’s for a cause they can get behind. Admittedly, there have been some reports of possible slaver links with the CIS and captured worlds. If the Confederacy is stupid enough to dip into that, it could be enough, maybe. But just being led by a Sith won’t be enough. Most people don’t know much about the Sith…or think about them in connection with Zavra of all people, not the boogeymen of ancient wars.”
Izuku snorted, unable to help himself. The idea of the Sith learning that the general population thought of Zavra as a repetitive of the ‘Sith’ might actually make them die of apoplexy. The sheer outrage of their very own Manic Pixie Dream Sith being the icon for Sith kind might just have a decent chance of doing them in. Shaking the thought off, he focused down on the topic at hand.
“Alright. There’s only so long I’m willing to delay heading to Randon. But we need to prune back the political hydra that is the various power blocs doing their own things at least a little bit while I’m here. Who among the conservative groups could be convinced to toe the party line, if it’s me doing the asking and I bring my best persuasion skills to the table. At least for now?”
Vy hummed, emotions actually approving at his line of thought. Clearly, she agreed with his own thought that his influence would matter to some people. The surprise she felt as well, indicating that she’d probably expected him not to play that card, was also understandable. He’d so far done his best to slowly pull away from using his influence like that, rather than actively employing it. As much as he might not care about the Republic, though, Izuku was more aware than Vy just how dangerous the Sith could be.
“If we take that approach, there are certainly a few key leaders that I think you can sway to your side. The representatives of Ilos and Ilos Minor would be a good place to start, I think…”
The discussion would go on for hours, and Izuku would be run ragged over the next few days in making good on the names and means of influence Vy had provided. In the end, as he was able to shift the general support for the war effort more in favor of intervention, he would consider it worth it. At least in the long run…
… … …
“Boss, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m pretty sure the Senate was a rancid pool of liquid nerf shit someone dried out, polished, and tried to claim was pure aurodium.”
The dry comment was so completely out of character for Cordé, by far the quietest of her handmaidens, that the rest of said handmaidens and Padmé herself all blinked. Then, Ertaé and Sabé started to snicker, Dormé’s mouth twitching as she tried hard not to join them. Dismayed, Padmé looked visibly pained that she couldn’t quite disagree. Dormé, by far the most controlled of the group in casual settings, managed to get a half-censorious reply out…in a tight voice that still sounded like she was trying not to laugh.
“Perhaps not the most decorous way to put it, Cordé. I do have to admit, however, that the politicians of the League of Free Stars are considerably less…fraught to work with.”
Sabé got over her own giggles with a final snort at that comment.
“You mean they actually function as representatives of their worlds, instead of just their own and their backer’s bank accounts? Or perhaps that they are legitimately capable of reasoned arguments instead of histrionics? Ah, maybe you mean that they can genuinely get something done without months of debate when they have to?”
Even Padmé’s lips couldn’t help but struggle between a smile and a frown at Sabé’s sardonic additions. Finally, she sighed and admitted what they all knew was true.
“Yes, I supposed it is obvious, seeing another large-scale democratic government functioning properly, just how bad the Republic Senate had gotten. Though it is getting better, under Bail, and we should keep in mind that the League is still far smaller than the Republic. Even when the new influx of worlds are sorted out, there will be less than nine thousand star systems under their aegis. At least, if we’re sticking to those that can reach at least Tier 1 voting status in population or output anytime soon.”
Which was, admittedly, a tripling of the League’s previous size, even if you counted their systems which hadn’t hit Tier 1 status yet. Nor was it likely to end there, as quite a few systems were still negotiating with the League. Of course, the very fact that the League had already created rules to manage that sort of growth, before it ever happened, was another telling point regarding how well-structured the respective governments were.
Unlike the horrific mismash of the Republic, where some individual worlds had Senators, while other entire sectors had to share a single voice, the League of Free Stars had created a robust representation methodology. They had anticipated from the start that enough systems would eventually reach Tier 1 status that having every Councilor from every world as part of the Council of Free Stars would recreate the same problems the Republic had. Too many voices, all shouting loudly at cross purposes, and getting nowhere.
Their response had been to create ‘Sub-Councils’ called Star Assemblies. Instead of being region-based, each Star Assembly represented a preset number of votes, filling up to its quota as new worlds hit new tiers, even splitting at need to keep the number of votes even between Assemblies. Those Star Assemblies voted among themselves for which of their Councilors took part in the primary Council of Free Stars. That person would then speak for the Star Assembly but, notably, had to cast their votes the way each world had designated.
It was far from a perfect system, of course. There wasn’t such a thing as a perfect system, so far as any of them knew. But it at least represented a far more even-handed distribution of voting power than the Republic Senate had. In the Senate, a world like Alderaan which represented less than 10 billion people total, colonies included, had the same voting power as the entire Chommell Sector that held easily ten times that number of people. Admittedly, that wasn’t quite as disproportionate as it seemed, since Alderaan’s economic power was greater than her entire home sector as well. But that economic power hadn’t really been tied to their vote.
Honestly, it wasn’t even really the Republic’s fault, as it had been built on foundations created for a much smaller polity when it was far younger. But it was at fault for not having taken the chance to fix the issue in the multiple instances it had been nearly broken and reformed from ashes. The Ruusaan Reformation would have been a perfect time to do so, for example. But the Core Worlds hadn’t exactly wanted to lose influence, and they had been the primary driving force behind the restructure at the time.
Cutting off the well-worn path of analyzing the differences between the Republic and League, again, Padmé tried to get her minions back on track to relevant subjects.
“At least it means we’re able to make coherent progress. I take it your comment means your meeting with one of Ohnaka’s aides went well?”
Cordé snorted.
“Aide? Aide nothing! I ended up talking to Hondo himself! Which I absolutely wasn’t ready for, by the way! Despite that, and despite him flirting outrageously and offering me Ryll-spiced rum, I got everything you wanted from the aide…except it’s all official and from the Councilman himself, instead of just testing the waters.”
The entire group blinked at that, taking in the half-hysterical tone Cordé had said it in. She was…well, Cordé was supposed to be primarily an aide and secretary, even if she was well beyond that in competence at this point. She still very much wasn’t a trained negotiator and equally wasn’t supposed to end up in that position. The only reason she would have agreed is if Ohnaka literally just…agreed to everything. With no more than minor stipulations she knew no one would care about. Rubbing her forehead, Padmé tried not to groan as she marshalled her thoughts.
“Alright. Tell us exactly what was agreed upon. My talks with Orn Free Taa were far more….normal sounding. Though still more straightforward than they would have been while we were both still Senators. Removed from the Senate, he’s actually less…slimy? Though I suppose he’s been increasingly less so the last few years overall, as Ryloth improved.”
Cordé, who had suddenly gained a mildly alcoholic drink via Sabé, quickly began to run through her unexpectedly productive meeting. By the time she finished, revealing that the agreement wasn’t just with Ohnaka but an entire voting bloc, they all had to agree that the League worked very differently than the Republic. They also all had drinks of their own in hand as they tried to adjust their plans to the new paradigm. Up until now, they had mostly been working to integrate the Republic worlds into the League. Ohnaka had been their first foray into attempting to make connections to actually influence the bigger picture.
If they were going to succeed at doing that, they obviously needed to reassess just how the League functioned in more detail…
… … …
Admiral Rana Lin tapped her way through reports with pursed lips. Unlike most of what she dealt with throughout her entirely-too-busy days, this particular set of reports wasn’t from the regular branches of the military. Instead, it was a set of reports that, normally, the big boss was the primary person to handle. He was even more swamped at the moment than she was, though, given that there was a bit of a lull in the various combat fronts at the moment but politics didn’t exactly stop.
Thus the boss hadn’t exactly had time to go through this particular set of files since…at least before the battle of Geonosis? Possibly not since the war started, actually. He’d been a bit busy juggling too many jobs on one hand, and possibly too many lovers on the other. Though she wasn’t going to judge on the latter, so long as his leadership didn’t falter because of it, and it certainly hadn’t so far. If anything, seducing Amidala had only strengthen the League, and the others had all contributed as well. As evidenced by a number of these files bearing Zavra and Mei’s names.
Frankly, looking over the files had made her aware of just why their Sovereign normally did this himself, with Rana being one of the only others in the entire League with sufficient clearance to see the reports. The contents of their various research and development efforts were…disturbing. Shockingly, only half of the horrifying weapons of mass destruction were the result of one Mei Hatsume’s genius. The other half was apparently sourced from a long-term archeology team out in Wild Space and the Unknown Regions that she hadn’t even known existed until she cracked these files open an hour ago.
Apparently, there had been a lot of super weapons floating around during Zavra’s original era.
For better or worse, the chaotic Sith woman had possessed a decent idea where to go looking for quite a few of them. Most had been destroyed, certainly, but that didn’t mean the research data to remake them had been entirely lost. One location in particular, a massive ancient construction that made even Centerpoint Station look small, apparently had an alarming number of such things. Though retrieving them had apparently been rather fraught with danger as, somehow, this ‘Iokath’ place was still operational. Despite being at least 7,000 years old. Some intelligence called SCORPIO had been in control of the fortress still, and it wasn’t the most…stable…artificial intelligence that she’d ever heard of.
The vast majority of the designs that had been either recovered or created from scratch by my-middle-name-is-War-Crimes Hatsume had been labeled as ‘too dangerous’ and sealed away. Something which, despite the ongoing war, Rana had to admit she agreed with. At least, she did after reading basic descriptions of some of them. Almost all of those so-sealed weapons had been planet destroyers or, in a few cases, weapons capable of destabilizing stars. That was, frankly, a level of escalation that the galaxy didn’t need and was far better off without.
Yet, there were a handful of weapons that hadn’t been ‘sealed,’ and carefully screened teams had been allowed to build prototypes of those few. Given why she was looking into the files, having grown concerned about the level of force the CIS was putting together for the possible push on Kashyyyk that her Sovereign intended to throw himself in front of again? Well, a few of the more promising prototypes might be justified as a ‘just in case’ measure. The trouble was picking one that would give them an edge if things went badly, without escalating beyond all reason.
Slowly filtering her way through the options, she finally selected one that she thought represented a fair balance. This ‘Omnicannon’ wouldn’t be as effective against the layered shields everyone was using these days as it had back during its last large-scale usage. But if the engineers were right about how effective it would be, it had the potential to be exactly the sort of balance-tipper she was looking for. Carefully and quietly, she issued orders that would see the prototype in the hands of a trustworthy captain who could have in in the right place at the right time, should things start looking too grim…
… … …
“Izu!”
Izuku smiled as he caught the pink-haired missile that was Mei. He hadn’t had nearly enough time to spend with his oldest friend and lover recently, even if Mei was remarkably low-maintenance in a lot of ways. At least, she was so as long as she had a minder to keep her from losing track of reality in favor of ‘baby making.’ That did not, however, make it at all fair to her that she ended up spending less time with him than Aayla or Zavra did. Sure, he called her regularly, and either he or Aayla kept the box with her portal on hand for ‘distant fun’ times. But that was no replacement for properly spending time with her.
Despite the chaos, despite the fact that he had a thousand things he ought to do on the military or political side of the League right now, Izuku had absolutely refused to pass through the Tythe system again without stopping to spend some time with her properly. Of course, this was Mei, so it was a little bit predicable that the next thing out of her mouth was related to a military project anyway, albeit one already used rather than anything new.
“You used the Lancer Supreme Babies! Finally! Tell me how they did! I want to know everything! I need to make a better version, after all!”
Chuckling and mentally promising he’d get her to at least eat a meal with him later, Izuku nevertheless started with the sort of breakdown he knew Mei most enjoyed getting on how one of her ‘babies’ performed. Not just the good, but any issues that could be improved. She wouldn’t be able to focus on anything more casual until she worked it out of her system, anyway. Better to just indulge her for as long as he could, before making her eat something and seeing where things went from there…
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A/N 1: So, poor Vy has been handling all the political stuff Izuku ignored to go play fleet commander, and she has WORDS about that ;-). I also used this as a chance to address, in-story, something I've replied to a lot of people on the topic of before. Specifically, Izuku having a family. The MAJORITY of the reason I'm not writing that is that it always complicates the hell out of a story, slowing everything down as you have to work around the kid while still representing that they are a major part of life now. That said, another chunk it is just flat out the personalities involved don't really...line up right. Padmé is legitimately the only one of his lovers I can see actually wanting kids, while also being genetically compatible. I could see Shaak maybe wanting them, if they were, but Togruta and Humans have been established as incompatible in at least the EU.
A/N 2: Padmé and her handmaidens, on the other hand, gave me a chance to sketch out a little more depth to how the League functions on a political level. As she observes, it isn't perfect...because there isn't such a thing. The League is at least a bit more functional than the Republic, though. As well as a bit more direct, because of the personalities involved. Most of whom didn't start life as politicians.
A/N 3: Honestly, I feel bad that I haven't included as much time with Mei for Izuku as the others have gotten. If I hadn't already done a lemon fairly recently, I might have extended this interaction. As it was, I at least wanted him to at least stop in and spend a bit of time with her...