Compensation: Chapter III

'''[Archivist’s note: We must stress that the majority of Moffs do not behave like the one Varris encountered in this incident. Apart from Grand Moff Tarkin. And maybe all the ones on Coruscant. And quite possible the majority of ones in the Core sectors. But still, they are still perfectly reasonable human beings most of the time. Provided you’re not from Alderaan.]'''

As I was escorted to Sch’mukk, it soon became evident that order on this ‘Compensator’, was, to say the least, non-existent. I kept witnessing clashes between the disciples of ‘Reak’torr’ and ‘Enjin’iriingg’ as we walked on, with further traces of other such bizarre clashes visible in huge blaster marks on the wall and scorched dead bodies. I was surprised that this stupidly large thing hadn’t fallen apart yet. At least this killed my secession theory.

We soon came to a large pair of doors that spotty engineer told were the entry to Sch’mukk’s headquarters. As they slid open, I puffed my chest out and cleared my throat. First impressions were everything, and I was going to make clear to this nutcase that nobody but nobody misuses Imperial resources like this, especially if they can’t even stop their own personnel from creating sovereign states in the engineering sectors.

Storming inside, I found one of the strangest sights you’re likely to find aboard an Imperial ship, even one that has its own civil war. The walls were covered in fleet recruitment posters—you know, the type that have nubile young women squeezed into impossibly tight TIE pilot uniforms that may as well be spray-painted on—and a holo-jukebox was playing furious speedjazz music—for those of you that don’t know, imagine regular jazz if a demented, sugar-high five-year old got the chance to compose a regular jazz song. Dancing across the room was Sch’mukk himself, and inexplicably he wore no trousers. At this point, I gave up on making any sense of the situation.

“Behold!” he yelled. “I have achieved that which no other man has! I have guaranteed that all history books shall forever immortalise my name...forever!” He broke down into crazed giggles.

“I can guarantee that you will be immortalized in all psychological guides about total screwjobs.” I retorted. “Moff Prav Sch’mukk, I, as an agent of the Imperial Political Inspection division, hereby find you guilty of inappropriate use of Imperial raw materials, of using Imperial naval resources and shipbuilding tools without the due consent of naval command, of failure to provide proper amnesties to personnel...

[Archivist’s note: For the sake of simplicity, we have omitted a large chunk of the memoir which amounts to Varris rattling off precisely seven hundred and eighty-two violations of various Imperial regulations]

...of indecent exposure, of improper use of Imperial navy recruitment material, and for being more loony than a Tusken raider on crystal meth. I hereby use my authority to place you under arrest and have you secured for transportation to Coruscant for trial.”

“But...but...can’t you’ve seen what I’ve done? Can you not appreciate my accomplishment?” he pleaded.

“No. Actually, I can. I can appreciate that you’ve wasted my time by bringing me out to this expanse of nothing because you thought it would funny to build a stupidly huge Star Destroyer. Now get the kriff...”

“It’s more than that!” he shouted. “This ship is precisely three hundred kilometers long, even if 99% of the interior hasn’t been filled in yet. Not even Darth Vader possesses a ship of such length! Even the Emperor will open his eyes when I turn up at Coruscant and force several million trade ships to alter their courses! I will be remembered as the possesser of the longest ship in history! And I did it all with the resources of one sector! Right under the Emperor’s nose! I shall be known as—“

“The biggest raving loony since Darth Malak totalled Taris.” I snapped. “Now, come with me if you want to live.”

“That’s going to be difficult.” Said Tribuni suddenly as he studied some holographic readouts. “According to this, our hangar’s been seized by the forces of A’xilary Reak’torr Wun. We can’t get our ship, boss.”

“Aw, shavit.” I sighed. “Sch’mukk, follow me. It’s about time you learned just why no other ship in the Empire has its own countries.”



“So tell me,” I asked the engineer as we headed out of the room, with Tribuni forcing Sch’mukk along at blasterpoint, “just how come everybody aboard this thing appears to be wiping their backsides with every single Imperial regulation, and every single non-Imperial reg for that matter? And how come you’re comparatively normal?”

“Let’s just say that our material convoys were erratic in their delivery, what with this whole thing being illegal and all.” Sighed the engineer. “People were inactive for so long and so bored that they just started to lose it. However, as I didn’t think it could get any worse in the first place, I was able to take the long view.”

“Right then.” It was time to bring an end to this. Turning a corner, I found a large barricade blocking it, with an E-web blaster and several security crewmen with the insignias of Reak’torr on their sleeves with their weapons ready behind it.

“Who goes there? Are you the scum from Uperrdex?” one of them growled.

“No, I’m the only person on this ship with a lick of sanity.” I snapped. “I want to see your leader. Now.”

“Nobody sees King Dorshak unless he wants to!” he man roared.

“Tell me,” I said softly, “why do you follow this Dorshak?”

“He promises us fries! And soap! And all the things we were denied!” one of them said loftily, his eyes glazing over.

“Take me to him, and I will give you all that and more.”

His eyes narrowed. “From where?”

“My ship.”

“But the hangars are in the hands of the enemy...”

“That’s because when I’m finished, your enemies will be no more.” Thankfully these people were too demented to note that I was making as much sense as they were. They considered. “Very well. Follow us—but remember, no tricks. King Dorshak’s wrath is such that stars can implode upon merely receiving an angry stare from him.” Horrifyingly, his tone and facial expression revealed that he was taking everything that he was spouting seriously.



“My people! Such is the greatness of our nation that other galactic powers sent forth ambassadors, no doubt to grovel and be awestruck at us!”

Stepping into one of the lower reactor maintenance chambers, I found it filled with crewmen, naval guardsmen, stormtroopers and officers bearing the markings of Reak’torr, parting to let us through as we entered. Seated at the end of the room, with mop-armed technicians standing guard, was Dorshak himself, seated on a ‘throne’ that was apparently modified from an officer’s toilet.

“Come forward! Look upon my works, ye mighty and despair!” he shouted as I walked briskly towards him.

“Listen,” I began, “I realise space dementia doesn’t exactly do wonders for one’s grasp on reality, but seriously, getting a frakkin’ grip.”

“You dare speak to the Lord of the Power Conduit like that?” he thundered, sitting up.

I realised antagonizing him wasn’t the best idea, especially with all the people here who for some inexplicable reason were taking him seriously fingering their blasters.

“Er, no. I was just wondering if you are seeking help in claiming this vessel for the glory of Reak’torr.” I said meekly, humoring him.

“United, our nation can do anything. In time, we will be able to control the placement of stars and create weapons that will make the Death Star look like a ping-pong ball.” He said, as I wondered just how he spout such stuff with a straight face. “Nevertheless, we welcome anyone willing to help accelerate our ascent to glory. What do you have in mind?”

I thought for a moment. “Go to the main hangar, and you will soon see what I mean.” That would be where the freighter’s supplies would be sent—I had decided that I would let these fools distract each other long enough for me to get off the ship with Sh’mukk. Then I could have the Navy atomize this thing, or a detachment of stormtroopers purge the place. At the end of the day, the sooner I got the hell out of there, the better.

“Very well. Soldiers of Reak’torr, we go to destiny!” he shouted. The crowd responded with a resounding cheer. Thank the Emperor for the weak-minded, I thought.



Once that was done, I asked Tribuni to compute the best route to the main hangar control room, from where we could direct the unloading of the supplies. I also made sure a distress signal was remotely sent from my datapad—it would be a few hours at best before reinforcements could get here, given the fact that very few would shift their rear ends to go to the Sakmar Expanse even if the rebels had a fleet of Death Stars there or if aliens with ships made of seafood were striking there. We passed by several nutters on the way, although most ignored us, probably because we weren’t bearing any of the insignias of the ‘nations’ the ship had apparently split into. The ones that did bother us were quickly disposed by Tribuni, who had picked up an E-11 on the way—just how he got such marksmanship I didn’t know, and wasn’t overly bothered about at the time.

'''[Archivist’s note: It transpired that Tribuni made copious use of stormtrooper virtual reality training facilities for his own entertainment. For this reason, several stormtrooper trainers have expressed a desire to asphyxiate him for forgetting to deactivate the programmes, thus using up power unnecessarily.]'''

Anyway, we made it there, which was basically a booth overlooking a large expanse of hangar—think of the hangar of the Invisible Hand, except with terminally moronic organics substituted for terminally moronic droids—with several AT-STs walking gangly around, letting off pot shots at various men hiding behind crates and containers. Several huge containers the size of AT-AT landing barges had been positioned in a row at the end of the hangar—those were the things the freighter had been bringing here, I guessed.

“Men of Reak’torr!” I shouted over the intercom as people began to rush into the hangar. “I grant you the means of triumph!” Hardly oratory to rival Palpatine, but it was sufficient to heat up the blood of the morons. With that, I pushed the controls to open the containers.

To my horror, innumerable amounts of small white objects spilled out of them, spilling down the hangar like a tsunami of, well, small white objects. Even the walkers were knocked down by the sheer tide of things as they began engulfing the entire floor of the hangar.

“Whaaa?” was all I could come up with.

“All that stuff is all the crap they wanted in the first place,” said Tribuni, his eyesight being about the only virtue his younger age brought along, “packets of foodstuffs and toilet rolls.”

“Brilliant.” I sighed.