The Grumpy Moff: Rants From Inside The Galactic Empire

Vader's drunken celebration

2005-10-23T18:52:00.000-07:00

The week before going to Yavin IV was very intense around here - at least for us worker folk. As for the higher ups, they seemed to be in good spirits after tracking down the Rebel base. Most "Death Star" employees knew that whatever success we had against the Rebels would be closely scrutinized, so the officers who were looking to be upwardly mobile worked extra hard (show-offs).

As for me, hey, I had no designs on being a Grand Moff or being one of those cloaked guys who
follows Palpatine around (what do they do? clean his shoes? wash his hands?) so I kept business as usual. Still, it made it a little harder to get some company during the down time. I hadn't forgotten the advice of the random droids from the week prior, but I still didn't have the nerve to try to "be myself" around Officer Hot Stuff. Instead, I had the most peculiar drinking partner down at the Death Splash Bar and Grill.

Three days before our departure for Yavin IV, I sat down for a Corellion Ale all by my lonesome at the bar. There wasn't anyone else in the place so I settled in with a drink and just sent my gaze towards the vid screens showcasing various galaxy sports. Halfway through my drink, I heard a distinct mechanical breathing behind me. My head slowly rotated back to see Darth Vader at the bar. I hope he didn't remember the peeing incident or our run-in during the turbolaser maintenance operation.

You know, for a station with several thousand employees, we sure do run into each other a lot. Funny, huh?

Anyways, I figured it was best to be polite (in a "I'm not scared to be here - really!" kind of way), so I mustered up, "Lord Vader, what a...pleasure to see you here. Come to check out the intergalactic blitzball tournament on the vid screens?"

Vader's giant helmet turned to me. "No," he said.

Awkward pause. Seconds turn into hours as the only noise is Vader's mechanical breathing.

"I wanted a drink," Vader finally said.

"Oh...cool, well, um...pull up a stool if you want some company," I said. How does Vader drink?

The bartender approached Vader with a noticeable hesitation and small glimmer of fear in his eye. "Lord Vader, welcome to the Death Splash," he said with a waver in his voice. "What can I get for you?"

"Do you know how to mix a Poodoo Pod Paradise Popper?" Vader asked.

"Oh, well, for you my lord, certainly. I'll, um, have to get my mix book. Hey, that's a pretty strong cocktail, ain't it? I mean, I'm sure you can handle it - it'd certainly knock my socks off. Don't get too many requests for that, but...um...lemme get my mix book and it'll be right up," said the bartender. He disappeared for a few seconds, then burst through the kitchen door cradeling eight different bottles with a book balanced on top. He took a single shot from each bottle, then pulled a hose down from the ceiling and squirted a blast of lemon mixer and reached undereath the bar for a Dantooine Soki fruit to put inside. "There you are, my lord. Do you need anything else?"

"I need a straw," Vader intoned.

"Oh, yes, how silly of me. Of course, my lord. Um...would you like a bendy or straight straw?"

"I need a straight straw," Vader said. The bartender grabbed a large red straw from underneath the bar and placed it in Vader's Poodoo Pod Paradise Popper. Vader took a small metal straw from his belt and attached it to the underside of his helmet, then hooked the red straw up to it. In roughly twenty seconds, the Paradise Popper disappeared up the straw and into the helmet. "Another," Vader said.

So that's how Vader drinks. And from the look of things, he likes to get blasted. Vader had three more in a row before he finally settled down next to me. His large shoulders had a slight rock to them, causing his cape to shake from side to side.

Vader was drunk.

"So, um, Lord Vader, how goes things?" I asked.

"Oh...you know...things are going," he said. "I haven't had a drink in a long time, I have forgotten how much of a...kick...these have."

"Are you celebrating something?" I asked.

"Actually, yes. I accomplished something the other day that I have been wanting to do for years. Now that it is done, I am not sure how I feel about it. Sometimes...sometimes, you just WANT something so much, then when it happens, it is like, 'that's it?'" Vader paused. He tilted his head skyward for a second.

"Man, I know how you feel. There's this officer here who's absolutely beautiful. Ive watched her from afar for so long, then in the past few weeks, I FINALLY get a chance to talk to her and I make a total ass of myself. I don't know what to do," I said. I can't believe I'm discussing Officer Hot Stuff with Darth "Holds His Liquor" Vader.

"I was in love once. She was beautiful, intelligent, kind..." Vader leaned in close and put his arm around me, "And...shhhhhhhh...do not tell anyone this...but she was a demon in the sack. Man, she had a nice ass," Vader sat back up and his shoulders started to shake. "Ha ha, ha ha, ha ha," he laughed in a weird mechanical cadence.

"So what happened to her?" I asked.

"I...uh...I...do not wish to talk about it," Vader said.

"Oh, I gotcha. Bad break up, huh?" I said. "Better to have loved and lost and all that stuff."

"Yeah," Vader said.

"So, what were you celebrating?"

"Oh, that. Yes. Well, I finally killed the jerk who chopped off my arms and legs and left me to burn in lava," Vader said.

How the hell does someone respond to that?

"Yup, I just chopped him down with my lightsaber. He was blubbering about being all powerful and then one swipe - boom, he goes down. And now that it's over...man...that was a lot of anger, and you wonder what it was all about. Should I have talked with him first before we started fighting? We used to be friends - a team. I hadn't seen him in years and years. Should I have told him that he made mistakes in the past? Should I have tried to convince him to see my side? Or were we just two old men, fighting over an issue that was really settled years and years ago." Vader looked at his drink. "I suppose that is why I am here. Just trying to figure it out before we get to the next important issue."

Boy, give Vader a little alcohol and he just goes off.

"I wonder if I made the right decision. I wonder how things might have been if we had talked before we fought all those years ago. Sometimes, you just wonder, how did I get here and was it all worth it? I cannot say that I know. All I know is that I finally got my revenge, but it did not feel as good as I thought it would. Maybe those emotions were empty, just spectors of old anger," Vader said.

I should have been recording this. Darth Vader, drunken philosopher. I put my hand on Vader's shoulder. "Hey, we all do stupid things. Sometimes, you just gotta live with it, learn what you can, and go to the next thing. Be positive, you know?"

"Yeah...you are probably right. I must go now," Vader said. He stood up, turned around, and took a step to the exit - apparently, he didn't notice that his cape was caught around the stool. He jerked back and grabbed the bar to get his balance. "Ha ha, ha ha - whoops," he said. Vader waved his arm and his cape magically untied itself and floated back down to his side. "No one saw that, ha ha, ha ha, oooooooooo," he said as he stumbled out the exit, putting a gloved hand to his helmeted head.

Well, I suppose if random gold droids can give me love advice, I can have a heart to heart with Darth Vader.

No vacations on Yavin IV

2005-10-21T14:51:00.000-07:00

Where have I been for the past month? Just shuffling around the Empire, going from one Star Destroyer to another. I probably should have been updating this, but I got busy (and lazy). So, before I describe where I'm currently at, I've gotta go back in time and finish the tale of the "Death Star", Coruscant, and all the other messes that took place. Trust me, you won't be missing anything by me playing catch up this whole time, we're really just floating around space sending probe droids everywhere.

Shortly after the Rebel spies blasted out of the "Death Star," there was an emergency memo circulated to all employees stating that we were going to Yavin:

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To: All-Employess@deathstar.empire.gov
From: tarkin@empire.gov
CC: emperor@empire.gov, dvader@empire.gov
Subject: Yavin

Dear loyal Death Star employees,

In the next week, we will be travelling over to the Yavin system. Our sharp Imperial intelligence has indicated that the Rebel spies have a hidden base on the 4th moon. This moon is a forest moon and is considered a prime vacation spot by many people. However, because the terrorist threat of the Rebel Alliance must be eliminated for complete safety and security of our Empire, there is a chance that the Death Star's main gun will have to be used to destroy the base. There is a risk that the moon will be destroyed as well.

Obviously, we wish to preserve the economy of the Yavin system and its travel industry and we hope that the Rebels surrender peacefully. However, we will do what we must to preserve peace and protection throughout our galaxy.

If you have friends or relatives vacationing on Yavin IV, we recommend that you advise them to leave early. Do not - I repeat - do not mention anything about the Rebel base, spies, or the Death Star.

Best regards,

Grand Moff Tarkin

P.S. Obviously, this information is confidential. Do not forward this on to anyone.

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So we were off to Yavin. At the same time, several officers - myself included - were given temporary assignments to help out Star Destroyers that had been recently hit by Rebel attacks. My assignment was to attend to the (what else) turbolaser repair on the Star Destroyer Killzone, and I was scheduled to leave right after we entered the Yavin system. And that's where I'll pick up on my next post (it won't be a month from now, I promise!)

Droid psychology

2005-09-11T17:24:00.000-07:00

It looks like the investigation into the whole "Death Star" mess is coming to a close. I've heard rumor that the security lockdown should be getting lighter after another week or two. That means I can post regularly again.

In the meantime, I should be able to finish catching everyone up on what happened. When I left off, Vader was standing in the hallway waiting for a guy that he apparently wasn't friends with. Well, just a few hours after that incident, I was finishing up my share of the turbolaser maintenance checks in the hanger bay where they had captured an adrift Corellion freighter.

With my toolkit in hand, I stepped out of the turbolift and into the hanger bay. The turbolaser controls were to the left of the captured freighter. Standing about 30 feet away at a monitoring station was Officer Hot Stuff.

Great, how could I make an ass of myself this time? I had two choices - walk in, say hello to her, and move along to my business OR pretend not to notice her (because I am cool like that) and see if she says hello to me. I chose the latter - NOT because it's in theory the easier thing to do, but because, like a good officer during a time of Imperial crisis, I am dedicated to my duty.

Or so I told myself with each step. I also discovered that it's VERY difficult to appear like you're not looking at someone while you conciously try not to look at them. I decided to pick one point in my field of vision and stick with it. Yes, that ventilation shaft in the upper corner of the hanger bay now had my complete interest. I would not turn my head to make eye contact with Officer Hot Stuff. Nope, just walking with my head cocked to the upper left and my eyes squarely focused on that ventilation shaft. Let's see, there were one, two, three, four, five slits in it to allow air to flow. Wow, that's really interesting. It looks like it was spot-welded there too, no visible screws or anything.

As I was analyzing this, I failed to notice the mouse droid zooming around the hanger bay floor. Because I was so dedicated to inspecting the ventilation shaft, I completely missed when the mouse droid was coming right at me. The heel of my left boot caught the droid as it ran by me, causing me to stumble back into a small wedge into the wall - right into the arms of a gold protocol droid and a little astromech.

"Goodness gracious me," exclaimed the protocol droid, "are you all right sir?"

I looked around to see if anyone had noticed the ruckus. Officer Hot Stuff glanced over and my eyes immediately swirled around to look at the protocol droid.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that, I was just distracted. Are you working on something here? You guys are kind of hidden, so I must not have noticed you."

"Wheeeeeeeeooooooooooww" beeped the astromech.

"Oh, well, my little friend here was just addressing this maintenance grid right here. We had just finished up and were awaiting a parts droid to come give us what we need." The astromech beeped and shook with approval. "I say, sir, you appeared to be quite fixated on that ventilation shaft in the upper corner. Are you looking for something?"

"Oh...no," I muttered. I glanced quickly over my shoulder and saw Officer Hot Stuff had resumed her work, though she was shaking her head. "Look, um, I'm actually on my way over there," I pointed to the turbolaser panel "right now, but I'm trying to avoid someone. Can I just stay here and chat with you guys for a second?"

The protocol droid tilted his head at an angle and looked down at the astromech. The astromech gave a tired "whooooooo" and the protocol droid looked back at me. "That should be all right sir, we are just waiting here for someone" (the astromech beeped again) "someone, I mean, the parts droid. Isn't that right R2?" The astromech tilted and shook with approval. "Sir, who is it you are trying to avoid?"

"It's, um...it's that woman over there," I said with a helpless shrug.

"I see. Does she have some sort of contamination you'd like to avoid?" the protocol droid asked.

"No, it's not that at all. Actually, I'd really liked to be contaminated by her," I said.

"You wish to be contaminated by her? Goodness, I shall never understand human behavior. Sir, if she is carrying some sort of toxin in her blood stream, that could prove fatal to someone as yourself. I would highly recommend avoiding that woman."

"Well, she's kind of avoiding me right now," I muttered.

"I see, sir. Perhaps you carry a chemical in your bloodstream that adversely reacts to the toxin in hers?" the protocol droid asked.

"No, no, it's not like that at all. There's no physical contamination in there. It's all...mental," I said.

"Yes, sir, I understand now. She must have deep psychological scarring. I noticed that when you fell into us, she looked over here and shook her head violently. I believe you may have triggered some sort of traumatic memory for her," the protocol droid said.

"Deep psychological scarring...listen, do you know anything about women?" I asked.

"Why, I am familiar with the female gender of over 25,000 different lifeforms. 43% of these lifeforms feature a regular cycle to address the mating and conception process, while 32% of these..."

"That's enough. I get it. I mean, do you understand how women think?"

"Sir, in my service, I have found behavior of any type of being - humans especially - to be terribly difficult to understand."

"Well, that's the thing. I mean, look at her. She's smart, quick-witted, and really, really hot. And I continue to do stupid stuff in front of her, and it just turns her off - I even blew the one chance we had to really, really talk and get to know each other. Now I just stumble into droids in front of her."

The protocol droid looked at Officer Hot Stuff and back at me. "Sir, I believe you are mistaken. My thermal sensors do not indicate a rise in temperature in her body. In fact, I believe she her body temperature matches the regular temperature for healthy human."

"That's not what I meant. Look, just put it this way - if you were me, how would try to impress someone that you hold in high esteem?"

The astromech turned its lid over to the protocol droid and beeped a few times. The protocol droid, in return, tilted his head and appeared to be in deep thought (well, appeared for a droid with a frozen face).

"Sir, if I were in your position, I would attempt to convince her about the quality of my functions, including my translation abilities and my technical maintenance techniques. However, my counterpart here," he tapped the dome of the astromech,"says that you should relax and just be yourself."

The astromech shook back and forth with approval.

"Just be myself? Huh...you know, maybe I've been trying too hard with her. Maybe he's right," I said, nodding at the astromech,"I probably think too much about the whole thing. Starting tomorrow, I will approach this with a fresh start. How does that sound?"

"Wheeeeeoooooow" beeped the astromech. "I believe R2 here approves of your decision."

"Sounds good," I said with a smile. "Hey, let me know if you guys ever need any special parts or anything. I'm a turbolaser supervisor and have access to all sorts of goodies. Just send a message to access code 422809, that'll head right to my inbox." I grabbed my toolkit off the floor. "Well, I have some maintenance to do now. Thanks for the wisdom."

I marched over to the turbolaser panel and began checking over its key mechanical functions when the sound of blaster fire caused me to duck. The Rebel spies had apparently come back to reclaim their ship - and they were taking my psychologist droids with them. Before I knew it, the ship had blasted out of the hanger bay.

Just figures, huh? I finally meet someone who I can talk sensibly with about Officer Hot Stuff and Rebel spies kidnap them.

Vader is into dudes

2005-08-29T22:31:00.000-07:00

You know what's really stupid? The fact that I'm on Coruscant but I can't speeder over a few miles to go see my parents. Now, I really don't want to visit my folks that much, especially after the last disastor/family meal that occured, but it's all about freedom of movement here. Imperial's aren't allowed to hang out with non-Imperial personnel until Mr. Palpatine figures out who the spy was that leaked the "Death Star" plans. I have my suspicions about Captain Stupid (which brings up another question - is his stupidity a ploy or does everyone, no matter what political faction they are, find him annoying?), but I can't really say anything since I already got in trouble for my own personal "investigation of him.

In any case, you're not missing anything exciting right now. I hang out in the Imperial office all day, drink Bajorran coffee with some mates, chit chat about the new model speeders, then we all go home. It's very quiet right now, though there are rumors of surviving "Death Star" personnel shipping off on Star Destroyers soon. We'll see.

Anyways, back to the story of how the "Death Star" blew up and I wound up stranded in a shuttle with Officer Hot Stuff. So after the cell block incident, security was pretty tight. In fact, they had all of us turbolaser maintenance guys working around the clock to tune up our watch. I was assigned to go out and check the internal guts of a wide block of turbolasers, which basically meant walking down a long series of hallways, opening up a panel every 20 feet, and double checking to see everything's ok.

Something really odd happened as I passed by the tractor beam shaft. I think I must have bonked my head or something cause I woke up on the floor. I had recollections of very strange dreams involving an old man in a brown robe. The fact that I was dreaming about old men was much more disturbing to me than the fact that I randomly passed out by the tractor beam (tractor beams have weird technical crap that I can't understand anyway - for all I know, a giant magnet pulled my brain out of consciousness for a few seconds). Well, I suppose if I can't get Officer Hot Stuff, my subconscious is telling me to reach for the more attainable. Old men, however, don't have the curvy butt of athletic female hanger bay officers. I'll let this one sit for a while, though if I continue to have dreams of old men in robes (at least he didn't open the robe), I'll have to go see the Imperial shrink.

Anyways, I was just bumbling along doing my maintenance checks when I turned the corner and who do I see but Darth Vader. Now usually when I see Vader, he's walking somewhere in a hurry and generally looking (as much as a masked dude can) pissed off. But this time, well, he was just standing there. Even weirder, his lightsaber was drawn.

So this was the eternal dilemma. Do I do my duty and open up the turbolaser panel right next to strangely static with lightsaber Darth Vader or do I absolve myself of many potential problems by "forgeting" to check this panel.

My eventual reasoning was this: maybe Vader's WATCHING for maintenance people just like myself to check that they do their duty. So, I'll just casually creep up and open the maintenance panel next to Mr. Vader and do my thing...

"What are you doing here?" Vader boomed.

"Whoa, oh hey, Lord Vader. Wow. I didn't see you there. Have you been standing there the whole time?"

"What are you doing here?" Vader repeated.

"Turbolaser maintenance. Just doing my job like a good Imperial soldier. You know, can't be too careful with those Rebel spies running around on the station."

Apparently, the mention of Rebel spies didn't please Vader too much as his leather glove crinkled with the tightening of his lightsaber. He turned to me and said in a slow, even tone (well, more slow and even than usual Vader), "Have you seen anyone...unusual around here?"

"Uhhhhh...no...is this a trick question?"

"I am waiting for someone," Vader said.

"Oh. Um...is she hot? Ha ha," I said. Hey, it's what I would ask Fun Commander or Grumpy B if they were here.

"She is a he," Vader said.

"Ok...well...I passed by lots of guys on my way here. Um...is HE hot? Maybe I passed by your friend," I said. If Vader wants to swing that way, it's cool with me. To each his own, I say.

"He is not my friend," Vader said.

"Oh...gotcha. One of those things. Look, I know the lightsaber is threatening and all, but sometimes, you just gotta talk it out. Of course, who am I to talk? I can't even get a first date right with Officer Hot Stuff, so who am I to give Lord Darth Vader advice on how to handle men," I said. Then I realized that maybe Vader wasn't into dudes and I didn't want to offend anyone that could choke me by thinking. "That is, um, handle...relationships...between...men and women...or men and men...or women and women...or asexual creatures and whoever they choose to be friends with. That could be anyone. People are people, that's what I say. Live and let live. Yup," I said. Vader still had not moved.

There's nothing more awkward than a silence that is cut through by the hum of a lightsaber.

"So...looks like these turbolasers are up and running ok. I'll just leave you along so you can meet your...guy who's not a friend...yeah...is that cool?" I said

Vader turned his head and glared at me. "That is...cool," he said.

I closed up the turbolaser panel and packed up my tool kit. "All right, well good luck with your not-a-friend guy. By the way, I think there's something wrong with the tractor beam power. I walked by it and passed out and it gave me these really bizarre dreams of old men in brown robes..." I said to Vader. I couldn't finish my sentence because at the mention of old men in brown robes, Vader unleashed a distorted "ARGH" and swung his lightsaber at the wall.

"HE IS HERE! HE IS HERE!" Vader yelled, cutting his lightsaber further and further into the wall - thankfully choosing to sever the instruments ADJACENT to my turbolaser panel.

"Whoa, dude, it's cool. I'll just leave you alone now, ok? Just, um, watch out for the tractor beam, it gives you funky dreams." I walked off as fast as I could politely speed-walk away.

Man, I wouldn't want to be the person summoned to fix THAT panel.

Fun in the cell block

2005-08-22T19:17:00.000-07:00

As you can probably tell by my lack of posting, the Empire's been on a bit of an information lockdown lately. Blogging, especially from an anonymously snarky officer, isn't particularly appreciated at this point. Until the destruction of the "Death Star" is thoroughly investigated and closed, I'll only be able to post sporadically. Perhaps things will change when I get my new assignment. Survivors of the "Death Star" are currently being housed on Coruscant after a brief detour with whatever Star Destroyer was able to pick them up.

It's certainly a long story, so I'll start where I left off, write what I can, and update until things get back to normal. When you first left me, I had just finished serving my sentence in the brig for my little breaking-and-entering stunt on Captain Stupid. Well, the next day, I realized that I left one of my pass cards in the cell, so I went back up to the cell block station to check out the lost and found. The station officer let me back into my cell and I was busy digging around underneath the metal bed block when I heard a the station door open. I peeked around the corner and saw two stormtroopers (one noticeably shorter than the other - he must be really strong or something cause I thought the Empire had physical minimums to be a trooper) bring a wookiee to the holding cell.

Then all hell broke loose. There was a lot of screaming, a lot of blasting, a lot of really loud wookiee howling and when it was all over, I snuck a look outside to see the two stormtroopers, now helmetless, arguing over the bodies of dead officers. As the wookiee leaned back and scratched himself, the short trooper jogged up the rampway to the cells while the other one was talking into the comlink.

Being the brave guy that I am, I rolled underneath the bed as the trooper passed my open door. Pretty sly, I thought to myself - a little too soon, though. The trooper leaned back and saw me.

"Are you hiding under the bed?" he asked.

I remained quiet. Maybe he thinks it's someone else hiding under the bed.

"Look, I see you under there," he said. Looks like what little luck I had ran out. I crawled out from underneath the bed, my Imperial officer's cap knocked forward as I smacked my not-too-smart skull against the bed as I stood up.

"Hey, um, I don't know what's going on, but I'm just here to pick up this pass card. See?" I said, holding the card up, waving it around as if it would make a protective blaster shield. "I don't even have a gun. I just supervise turbolaser operators...oh...crap."

The trooper held his gun up. This wasn't good. He didn't look old enough to be holding a blaster rifle, let alone be a trooper. Really nice tan, though - he must work outside a lot.

Of course, I couldn't fully comprehend all of the different places in the galaxy where one could get a tan like that because then it hit me that a blaster rifle was being pointed at me. Me! First I make an ass of myself in front of Officer Hot Stuff for the 6 millionth time, then I get thrown in prison, and now some teenage stormtrooper.

Wait a minute - if he's younger than most troopers - and shorter! - then he must be ridiculously overqualified. Maybe he's a sharpshooter extraordinaire. Maybe he's one of those freaky guys who looks tiny but can tear your arms out of your sockets. Maybe he's got crazy weird powers like Darth Vader and can choke people just by looking at them.

Oh crap. I REALLY regret breaking into Captain Stupid's quarters now.

"Look man, I didn't see anything. I was just here under the bed looking for my pass card. I'm sure the station officers shot at you first. I mean, really, they're jerks. I got thrown in here for something really, really dumb and they weren't nice to me at all. Whatever you did, I'm sure it's totally justified. I didn't see anything. Just, um, hanging out here...under the bed...the whole time." I knelt down and rolled back under the bed. "See, I was here the whole time. Didn't see a thing," I said evenly, trying not to piss of Mr. Overachieving Extraordinary Short Young Stormtrooper. "Please don't shoot me!" I blurted out.

Hey, when you gotta beg for your life, might as well do it right, right?

The short trooper relaxed and lowered his rifle. "Hey, I'm here for something else. I'm not gonna shoot you, just gonna shut and lock this door from the outside, all right?"

"Not a problem, man. Not a problem. Do what you need to do. I've spent three days in here, it's practically my second home."

Man, I am pathetic.

The trooper closed the door and opened the one next to me a few seconds later. A few garbled conversations later, some more yelling, and then more blaster fire sounds cut through the wall. One large explosion later and suddenly everything started smelling like sewage.

Let's see. In the matter of 10 minutes, I've managed to hide under a prison bed, beg pathetically for my life, and get trapped in a room with the aroma of excrement floating inside. Yes, I've got the best luck in the world.

About 30 minutes later, some more stormtroopers opened my door and filled me in on what was going on (after a thorough interrogation - do I look like a Rebel soldier? I cowered under the bed, for heaven's sake!). Apparently the prisoner next to me was Senator Leia Organa, who is know an exposed Rebel spy, and the two stormtroopers who shot their way in here were her rescuers.

At this moment, I made the connection - Captain Stupid knew Leia Organa. In fact, I'd seen him on the vid screen with her a few times. Perhaps they weren't just involved in tech smuggling.

The truth came later as the story evolved. I've used up my communication time now though, I'll tell the next part in the story the next time I can get to a comm console. Hopefully, the Empire will lift these communications restrictions fairly soon - not that I terribly care about the investigation of the "Death Star's" destruction, I just wanted to check my email to see if any of my volleyball teammates survived.

I'm not dead!

2005-08-16T15:30:00.000-07:00

It's been an interesting week, to say the least. You may have wondered why I haven't updated. Well, long story short, I'm currently floating in an Imperial Shuttle (with Officer Hot Stuff, no less!) waiting to be picked up by our old mates on the Devastator. I'm sure you've seen the news by now, but in case you haven't, the "Death Star" has been destroyed.

We just got our communications up and running again a few hours ago, so I'll give you the whole story over the next few days.

I don't know who the Rebel pilot was that blew up the station, but he should thank Captain Stupid for expanding the size of that exhaust port. Regardless of its size, that was a hell of a shot - I know I couldn't do it.

More later.

Apologies to those from Alderaan

2005-08-07T21:44:00.000-07:00

Life inside an Imperial cell is very, very boring. That, and I don't have computer access, so I couldn't update my blog for a few days. You guys didn't miss anything though, it was a lot of sitting back and staring at the wall. I'm not sure if anyone informed Captain Stupid of what I did since I haven't seen him since I got out. He hasn't sent me any death threats or staked out my quarters, so I'm assuming things are cool and he hasn't flipped out...yet.

The only notable thing that happened was my first day when I was taking a nap and the sounds of several pairs of footsteps clammored by my cell. During a brief pause, I could hear the distinct hoooooooo-phhhhhaaaaawwwww of Darth Vader's breathing. Then another distinct noise - the whirring and buzzing of one of the Imperial interrogation droids (which I didn't have to deal with since I 'fessed up to my misdemeanor pretty quickly - I'm not messing with those things, they have big ass needles!). The cell door next to me whooshed open and I could hear the footsteps bundle together inside. There was a muffled exchange (a female voice and Vader's muffled mechanical musings) for about 20 minutes before the group took off. It must be a pretty important person for Vader to interrogate her personally. I wonder if he told her about his awesome lightsaber cooking skills.

Anyways, today when I got back to my quarters, I checked my messages. Apparently, I missed the big news - this morning, the "Death Star" took its first test run of the main gun. Here's the memo I received in my email.

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To: Death Star Employees (all@deathstar.empire.gov)
From: Grand Moff Tarkin (gmtarkin@empire.gov)
Subject: Alderaan destruction

Dear friends,

Today, we pass along the regretable news that the planet Alderaan was destroyed. This was a good news/bad news situation. The bad news, obviously, is that the planet was destroyed. The good news is that the Death Star's main gun works just as we planned and the destruction was quite spectacular - it even had a praxis effect (at least I thought so, but Lord Vader apparently saw it differently - we'll have to check the vid records).

Our apologies to those native to Alderaan. You must know that your planet's destruction was done for the greater good of peace and justice. There were many reports of Rebel factions forming in Alderaan and our intelligence simply could not pinpoint all of traitors. Rather than let the Rebel factions grow in strength, the Emperor decided the best course of action to protect peace and security would be to eliminate the entire planet - thus, eliminating all threats to our Imperial way of life.

As compensation for lost property and/or loved ones, the Empire will give native Alderaanians a 10% discount at Donnell's Speeder Shop in Coruscant's Galactic City. Death Star employees will get an added bonus of a coupon for one free meal and drink at our very own Death Splash Pub & Grill.

To claim your Speeder Shop voucher and meal/drink ticket, please visit any security station with your Alderaan ID.

If you have any questions regarding the destruction of Alderaan, please email Lord Vader (vader@empire.gov). He will happily answer your inquiry.

For continued peace and security,

Grand Moff Tarkin
-------

Captain Stupid is from Alderaan. As I much as I dislike the guy, it must suck to have your whole planet blown up.

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen

2005-08-01T20:08:00.000-07:00

After my blunder with Officer Hot Stuff, I went about my daily business, unsure as to when stormtroopers would grab me from behind, hold me by one leg above one of the infinite chasms in the "Death Star" floor, and shake me until all of my loose change fell into the reactor core - or some form of punishment for my little breaking and entering adventure in Captain Stupid's quarters. I'm not sure if they actually alerted Captain Stupid to what I had done (and like a good friend, I didn't name the involvement of Fun Commander, so he owes me a Corellion ale), since he's been acting as stupid as ever. Nothing had happened in the day following the incident with Officer Hot Stuff.

I was beginning to think that the I had gotten away scott free. Then a small battalion of stormtroopers showed up at my cube right before lunch time. The lead trooper walked up, raised his blaster rifle to chest level and politely stated, "Grumpy Moff, please come with us. We wish to discuss your disciplinary action."

This got the attention of the straight arrow Captain Big Nose. I couldn't tell if the look on his face was A) glee for watching someone go down or B) astonishment that someone he worked with could possibly require disciplinary action.

I stood up and the stormtroopers politely parted sides to clear a path for me. As I stepped forward, the battalion marched behind me, their white boots click-clacking in unison behind me. With each step, I took a quick wince, expecting a blaster bolt - possibly on stun, but possibly on kill - to zap any part of my body. "Please proceed to the security center in this sector," the lead trooper asked. We turned outside of the turbolaser office block and walked down the long circular hallway of the "Death Star."

"So, um, arrest any cool dudes today?" I asked, trying to break the silence as we marched along with some humor.

"No sir. Just officers who have broken Imperial rules."

"Oh...um...that's too bad," I meekly squaked. Several steps further, I tried again to get on the their good side. "Are those boots comfortable? I've always wanted to know. I bought these awesome insoles that go in my boots that make them way more comfortable. If you're interested, I can find out where to get them the next time we're in the Coruscant region. You know, cause you guys do so much walking and stuff." I glanced back at the small battalion. "The offer goes to all you guys, not just him," I said, nodding at the lead trooper.

Absolute silence. Click clack click clack click clack as we walked down the hallway.

"Oh, ok, gotcha," I said. "Well, let me know if you want some for off duty or something. I know you guys walk and run and do a lot marching through the hallways here."

Click clack click clack click clack

"So, do you guys know what's up with those red guards who hang out with the Emperor? Is that like a promotion you get to or did he just give his buddies cushy jobs?"

Click clack click clack

Obviously, the stormtroopers are not one for conversation. However, for all I know, they have totally been playing with me, making faces behind those darn masks of theirs. Someday, I'll befriend a stormtrooper and find out the truth behind them.

We walked for another few minutes before getting to my sector's security center. As I walked in, I was directed down another hallway of cells.

"Sir, your punishment is three days inside prison security. Your illegal activities will be noted on your Imperial record and you will be treated as a prisoner for this time. After the three days, you will resume normal life and duties aboard the Death Star. Do you have any questions?" said the lead trooper.

"Um...can I get any visitors?"

"You are permitted one visitor a day. The visitor must receive clearence from the security center. You will be notified of any visitor requests."

"Oh, cool. Um...ok, well I guess I'll be going to my cell now." The troopers pointed me to the third cell on the right. The heavy black door flew open with a whoosh and I stepped into a room with a single black hard bench. At least it was comfortable temperature-wise.

"Sir, the Empire recommends that you spend the time thinking about the consequences of breaking Imperial law. Repeat offences are not taken lightly. You will be served three meals a day. Please perform bodily functions in the bucket assigned to you. It will be cleaned twice a day."

Bucket? We're the freaking Empire and we can't afford a mobile toilet droid? Or is this the Emperor's ways of treating prisoners?

"Please enjoy your stay at cell block AA-23. The security officials will come check on your status later."

With that, the door slammed shut and I was left alone with a hard black bench and a little black bucket featuring the Imperial logo.

At least I can't piss off Officer Hot Stuff in here, right?

I am the Stupid, not Grumpy, Moff

2005-07-29T18:48:00.000-07:00

Riding high off of my successful break-in of Captain Stupid's quarters (ok, I didn't really find out much info other than he is A) hording schematics and B) friends with a senator from Alderaan, but it was still cool to pull off a covert mission), I decided that it would be ideal to discuss the situation during my meeting/date/encounter with Officer Hot Stuff. We had agreed to go to the Death Splash Pub and Grill for some off-duty fun. Surprisingly, I had not made an ass of myself for the first twenty minutes. Nope, conversation was brisk, Officer Hot Stuff was hot, and I was as cool as a Grumpy Moff can be.

Then I brought up Captain Stupid. And it all went downhill from there.

GM: So, you remember Captain Stupid from the Devastator?

OHS: Annoying guy who talks really fast? Yeah, how could you forget him?

GM: Did you know that he was transferred here?

OHS: What?

GM: Oh yes, and the Emperor decided the best place for his quarters to be would be right next to mine.

OHS: Oh...wow! That's awful. Does he bug you a lot?

GM: Actually, I've managed to avoid him. But, um, I think (I pause and look to see if anyone is potentially eavesdropping), I think he's tech smuggling.

OHS: (her brow furrows in an intense but attractive way) Are you sure?

GM: Well, no, not totally sure. But I know that he was discussing the retrofit of the Death Star's exhaust port with a senator from Alderaan. And I know that he has crates and crates of schematics in his room. Everything from turbolasers to the main gun to the Imperial fleet.

OHS: And he was dumb enough to show you this? He must be the worst smuggler on the planet.

GM: Um...well...he didn't exactly show me...

OHS: How'd you find out? What, did you program an astromech to let you break into his quarters?

GM: Heh, you know, it's a funny story, but yeah, actually I did. Pretty cool, huh?

Officer Hot Stuff's eyes widen just a hair and her lips grow thin. My amusing anecdote was transforming into a yawning chasm of embarrassing childish boasting and, oh yeah, illegal activity. Crap.

OHS: You broke into his room?

GM: "Broke" is a relative term. Um...technically...the astromech did it. I just stood there and walked in the open door.

OHS: Why did you break into his room?

GM: I told you, cause I suspected he was a tech smuggler. And he's been annoying me since I joined the Empire, so I figured that, you know, if I expose him for what he is, then maybe he'd get shipped off the Death Star. (LONG awkward pause) Cause, you know, um...he's annoying and stuff.

Officer Hot Stuff stands up and motions for me to follow her. We march out of the Death Splash Pub and Grill and down one of the many long halls inside the "Death Star" over to a security terminal.

OHS: You see this? (I meekly nod) Do you know what this is?

GM: It's a security terminal. I think you can call for help here.

OHS: If you read your Death Star welcome package, you would know that you could submit anonymous tips here regarding security concerns. So instead of concocting an elaborate scheme to fulfill your childhood fantasies of breaking and entering, you could have followed proper Imperial procedure. Now whatever evidence he has in there of possibly being a tech smuggler is tainted.

GM: Tainted?

OHS: (shaking her head in frustration - boy, she's hot when she's frustrated at my stupidity) Didn't you learn anything from your Death Star orientation? Because of the case of Antilles vs. Korsonoff four years ago, the courts found it illegal to begin investigation based on evidence found on illegal grounds. Illegal, like your breaking and entering.

GM: Oh...dang.

OHS: IF I decided to withhold the fact that you told me about this, then I would be withholding evidence. And you know that any illegal activity is looked as betrayal of the Empire.

GM: Wait a minute...just cause I broke into Captain Stupid's room, I'm betraying the Empire?

OHS: (sighs) You really don't read or listen, do you? The Emperor has stated that any illegal activity is viewed as potential treason. You are breaking the laws of the Empire, thus turning your back on what it stands for.

GM: Wait a minute. We're the Empire. Why do we have to follow all these rules and stuff? Don't we just interrogate suspects and blast them with our stormtroopers? What's with all this legal mumbo jumbo?

OHS: The senate and the courts dictate the law. Unless the Emperor dissolves them, we have to follow them.

GM: Oh...dang. Um...so what are you going to do now?

OHS: As an Imperial Officer, I'm going to have to report you. Now, since what you did isn't that big of a deal, you'll probably just get a formal reprimand and maybe have to apologize to Captain Stupid. But you've blown any chance of getting him off the station. Good job.

GM: So, um, I don't suppose I could use my powers of seduction to keep you quiet? (I slowly move forward and reveal an oh-so-dashing smile. Officer Hot Stuff is not amused.)

OHS: I'm not even going to dignify that with a response.

Officer Hot Stuff spins on her heel and storms away, her boots making a rapid cadence of click-clacks against the "Death Star" tile floor.

Crap.

Breaking and entering

2005-07-25T21:24:00.000-07:00

I’ve spent the past few days making arrangements to strategically break into Captain Stupid’s quarters. Fortunately, Fun Commander has been extremely helpful with this. It was pretty easy to determine Captain Stupid’s schedule; all we had to do was put in an inquiry in the “Death Star” main computer and up it came. However, there’s always the worry that he may come back to his quarters on a quick break.

To address the problem, Fun Commander volunteered to find a time when he was off and Captain Stupid was working. Fun Commander would then go visit Captain Stupid and engage him in a long and highly unnecessary conversation about the length of the “Death Star” thermal exhaust port and the need to expand it.

The time to strike was two days ago. I conveniently “broke” a comm channel in my quarters and scheduled an astromech droid to come service it. It, of course, really meant disengaging the lock on Captain Stupid’s door. To clear the trail, I downloaded the astromech’s memory into my computer, had it open the lock, then wiped its memory before restoring the pre-break in memory and sending it on its way. No one would be the wiser.

As the astromech droid whirred away, I checked my watch. I only had one hour of guaranteed safe time before Fun Commander had to start his shift in the turbolaser department. I poked my head into Captain Stupid’s wretched den and began the journey.

When we were on the Devastator, Captain Stupid’s quarters were a complete mess. At least they were the time I went to retrieve my “Death Star” plans. So it was a bit of a shock to see the room almost spotless. All of the packing crates were still full, several decorations were on his desk, and a pile of laundry was growing in one corner. But none of the papers and random junk that cluttered his old room. Strange.

I turned on his comm panel and checked his communications log. Many of his calls, both outgoing and incoming, were to Alderaan. That’s no surprise, since that’s his home planet. A few different access numbers, some were stored into memory: mom, dad, Ranibus, Leia, and Perma. No strange calls to distant stations or other places that tech smugglers are known to stay. However, there was always the possibility of that a call may have been rerouted to disguise its location.

I opened up some of his packing crates to find piles and piles of papers – probably the ones that were scattering the floor in his Devastator room. Each crate was filled with schematic after schematic of all sorts of Imperial vehicles – TIE fighters, the new TIE interceptors, the walkers, even the probe droids. He had detailed info on star destroyer shield mechanisms, and also a lot of stuff on the different turbolaser capability of the guns right here on the station.

This stuff isn’t top secret material, but it is confidential. It all pointed to the notion that Captain Stupid was indeed trading with tech smugglers. But there was no viable proof.

The last crate I looked through had some of his personal belongings. Most of it was pretty boring – aquatic race champion medals, Imperial bodybuilding contest runner-up, some holo discs of different sporting events. At the bottom of the crate was a holo album with holos of Captain Stupid with family and friends.

And then I made one connection. I’m not sure if it was significant or not, but it at least answered one of my questions. One of the holos was Captain Stupid standing at his Academy graduation with a friend (I’m ASSUMING they’re friends, though there’s no evidence to back up anyone actually enjoying his company). The friend was the same woman who was in the vid screen communique that I eavesdropped on last week – and the same person in his communications log. I finally put the face to the name and remembered who she was.

Leia. Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, and member of the Imperial Senate.

So Captain Stupid has both royal connections and political connections. I’m thinking that he’s too stupid to actually try to start a political career. So there are three possibilities here:

1) He’s trying to win the heart of our dear Senator. Granted, she’s pretty cute, but she seems like a real bitch during her HoloNet interviews. Very snappy, very snarky, doesn’t seem at all charismatic or polite. Maybe they belong together.

2) She is a tech smuggler and he’s been feeding her information. Though I don’t know why she would be involved with it…I mean, she’s probably part of the richest family on that whole planet. Maybe she has parental issues and this is her way of lashing out.

3) She could not be involved at all with this.

My safe time was ending, so I meticulously restored everything to its original state and made haste back to my quarters. After debriefing with Fun Commander, he is further convinced of the tech smuggler idea, but I still don’t have any hard evidence.

In any case, that’s what happened. I’m prepping for my date/meeting/ambiguously spending time together with Officer Hot Stuff. Perhaps she will have some insight on this. More later.

Lunch with Palpatine

2005-07-19T20:34:00.000-07:00

The Emperor doesn't come out that much. Well, that is, he doesn't come out and mingle with us that much. Tarkin and Palpatine could go out for fresh-brewed Corellian ales every night for all I know. Heck, he's always walking around in those black robes, he could have a dancing outfit on underneath. You know what they say, it's always the ones you least suspect that get drunk and make a wild bantha of themselves at a wedding.

In any case, the Emperor has finished his stay here on the "Death Star" since final preparations are being tweaked and we'll be leaving Coruscant orbit soon. Someone talked Palpatine into having a mess hall lunch/Q&A session with the good workers of the "Death Star" since he'll be returning to the capital soon. I went to the mess hall with Fun Commander. It was...interesting. It started off with Palpatine picking up a tray and selecting his food, just like we do every day. The serving droids didn't get nervous around him, but the person standing in line behind him kept his distance. Not too far behind, not too close, just...casual.

Palpatine walked over to the soda fountain and fixed himself a fizzy soft drink, then sat down at a large table at the front of the mess hall. Tarkin, walking as upright and stick-up-his-ass as ever, took a microphone and called everyone's attention. "Good workers of the Death Star," he began, "it is my true pleasure to announce that the Emperor has graced us with his presence on his last day on board the station. The Emperor wants to express his gratitude and the floor will be open for questions as we all enjoy our lunch."

Wild applause sprain out - the canned kind, where there's no hooting or hollering, but a very, very loud set of hands slamming against each other. Like trained Belikian sea dragons applauding the sunset, we were good Imperial workers.

Palpatine took the microphone. "The Death Star is the ultimate power in the galaxy, bringing peace to all regions under Imperial supervision. Thank you for your hard work in making this the greatest space station in known history. Now, I will answer any questions that you may have." Palpatine set the microphone down took a bite out of the special bantha hide (I wonder if they had Vader prepare it? His cooking did kick ass last time.), chewing very slowly and methodically and...well...for quite some time. I don't think his teeth have held up too well.

I've listed some of the more bizarre questions below (I think people had been drinking at this point, especially the night shifters). I'll credit the Emperor, he showed a bit of wit that I didn't know he had. I suppose you have to be smooth if you're as successful as he is at the politics game.

Question: Who do you like better, Vader or Tarkin?

Answer: (Palpatine greeted this question with a sneer, then a light chuckle). Lord Vader has been my apprentice for many years. We've had many adventures together, seen a great many things. However...just between you and I...and him (nods at Tarkin)...Vader can be awfully...dry...to talk to at times. The good Moff (nods at Tarkin again) at least has the dignity to keep up with latest in fine arts. I shall leave it at that.

Question: What are you wearing under those robes?

Answer: (without thinking, just a smirk) More power than you can possibly imagine...nuh huh huh huh huh huh (at this point, nervous laughs go through the crowd. I think the mental image of Palpatine without robes offered a bit of mass disturbance)

Question: Do your red guards ever get to sit down or do they just stand next to you all day?

Answer: Fortunately, my guards are peak physical specimans that can handle the rigors of standing next to an old politican all day. (Palpatine looked over to one and he simply nodded) Between you and me, though, I believe they may have learned to sleep standing up behind those helmets.

And then there was Captain Stupid, who of course had to screw things up. He grabbed the question microphone and failed to actually ask a question, just gushed like a babbling idiot for way too long. "My lord, it's so good to talk with you again. It's me! Captain Stupid! Remember, we met when Tarkin showed you my modifications to the thermal exhaust port? Yup, that's me. Oh, in case you're curious, things are going well with that and the modifications are getting done right on schedule, in fact it's going to save 50% power efficiency in the..."

At this point, Palpatine offered a weak, tired politician's smile and muttered, "What is your question?"

Captain Stupid, surprisingly, was very frank. "What are our defense plans in case the Rebels try to attack?"

The room hushed. No one thoguht that there was actually going to be a serious question involved here. Palpatine looked at Tarkin, who lowered his brow and gave a stern grimmace.

Palpatine looked right at Captain Stupid and said, "This station is more powerful than any ship in their fleet. Once the main gun is ready, no ship can withstand it."

Captain Stupid replied, "Are we preparing for any smaller range attacks?"

Palpatine said, "I believe I answered your question. The Rebels will not be able to attack a station of our firepower. Is that satisfactory?"

Captain Stupid bowed his head and said, "Yes sir, that's good to know."

The audience asked Palpatine a few more easy questions before he finished up his mess hall lunch and walked out, flanked by his customary red guards. Palpatine doesn't really seem like that bad of a guy. He's certainly not as cranky as I thought he'd be, and he had a much better sense of humor than Tarkin, who remains a jerk.

Theories on Captain Stupid

2005-07-16T11:20:00.000-07:00

Fun Commander and I spent some of the morning looking busy at our work stations (through the magic of GIM - Galactic Instant Messenger - , we can type away at our computers and look like we're performing maintenance checks on our turbolasers when we're actually just chatting. Take that, Captain Big Nose and Grand Moff "Jerk" Tarkin!) while discussing the Captain Stupid situation. Fun Commander has never met Captain Stupid, he's just heard my stories about the infamous annoying one. Still, the level of intrigue was there, and who doesn't enjoy a little game of intrigue?

As I have said before, any sort of conspiring that can possibly ship Captain Stupid off of the "Death Star" is worth looking into for me. Here's some of what we chatted about.

GM: So what do you think he was up to? Who would care about the width of the station's exhaust port?

FC: Did you get a look at who he was talking to on the vid screen?

GM: Yeah, I know I've seen her somewhere on the holonet before. She's either on the news a lot or in one of the shows. She looks kinda young, maybe 20 or 25. Brown hair. Lots of lipgloss. Kinda cute in an Imperial politician kind of way.

FC: Cute human girl with brown hair. Gee, that narrows it down.

GM: He did say that it was one of his childhood friends from Alderaan.

FC: Ok, so now we have a whole planet of humans. We just gotta do some research to see how many young female holonet stars are from Alderaan. No biggie.

GM: But even if we figure that out, that doesn't mean anything. We have to figure out what Captain Stupid's motives are.

FC: I bet he's one of those new tech smugglers we've been hearing about.

GM: Tech smugglers?

FC: Yeah, get information on some piece of technology and sell it off to the gangsters so they can implement it in their defenses. It's happening quite a bit lately.

GM: Do you think maybe he's a bounty hunter of some sort?

FC: Do you think he's smooth enough to be a bounty hunter?

GM: He is freakishly strong. I told you about the time I ran into him shirtless, right? That Imperial uniform hides muscles really well.

FC: If he's freakishly strong, then perhaps he could be a bounty hunter. The way he acts could just be a cover up.

GM: I don't think so. I heard him talking that way with the Alderaan woman. And when he started babbling to me, I saw her roll her eyes.

FC: The best thing we can do is somehow break into his quarters and look at his communications log. Do you think that can be done?

GM: Shouldn't be hard, especially if we rent out an astromech droid to open the door. The only thing we'd have to do is wipe its memory afterwards to cover our tracks. The trick is finding the right time to do this.

FC: We should be patient. Dig around and find out when Captain Stupid's work schedule is. Then we can figure out some way to make sure he stays busy.

So now my mission is to figure out how and when we can break into Captain Stupid's quarters. That means I have to actually talk with him, which shold be loads of fun.

Captain Stupid is hiding something

2005-07-13T19:45:00.000-07:00

So, loyal Grumpy Moff fans, I know you're wondering how things went with Officer Hot Stuff. Well, unfortunately, nothing's happened yet. As it turns out, the "Death Star" supervisors have her scheduled working opposite of my schedule. So I probably won't get to see her until next week, which means that I'll be doing a lot of sitting around the turbolaser supervisor cubes complaining to Fun Commander about how I'm terrified that I'll make an ass of myself. Not that I haven't already in front of her, but you know what I mean - there's being a cute, loveably stupid ass and then there's being a kinda creepy and annoying ass.

Speaking of creepy and annoying, I had a very strange encounter with Captain Stupid today. He's hiding something, but I'm not sure what it is. I was coming back to my quarters after my shift today and I noticed that his door hadn't closed all the way. Normally, when I hear his non-stop yammering, I run and hide, but he said something very odd right when I passed by.

Captain Stupid: ...and they've begun work on expanding that thermal exhaust port and I think it might be a weakness in the station but I'm not sure if it will work or not. I mean, boy, you gotta sure be lucky to get something in there, and not lucky like "Wow, I won a sabaac round lucky," but lucky like "Wow I can hit...

Unknown Female Voice: Ok, ok, I get it. So you think two feet is wide enough?

Captain Stupid: It's possible, but you've really got to be precise. Did you ever hear the story of Arax Dark and the Mendula dragon? Arax Dark was just a boy, but his town had been taken over by this huge, ugly dragon and he just had a sling shot. It's actually a pretty inspiring story, I read it from time to time even though it's just a myth, but you know that myths are...

Unknown Female Voice: (low whispering)

Captain Stupid: Oh...oh...hmmm

At this point, I hear footsteps as Captain Stupid obviously detects my presence. The door opens right when I manage to turn around.

Captain Stupid: Oh, hey Grumpy Moff. Watcha doing? You just hanging around?

Grumpy Moff: Oh, no, I'm uh...I was just heading home. You know, long day at work and everything. I think the Emperor's running me into the ground.

I pause to take a look into his quarters. He's on a vid screen call with someone who looks kind of familiar, but I can't quite place her. I think she's on the holonet a lot, but why would someone like that talk with Captain Stupid?

Grumpy Moff: Who's that? I swear I've seen her before.

Captain Stupid: Oh her? She's just an old family friend. I've known her for years, we used to be in the Alderaan children's theatre together. We did a production of Rainbows and Dreams where she was the lost princess and I was the grouchy old farm hand who helps her out. I actually did quite a bit of singing when I was younger and did theater.

Captain Stupid clears his throat and proceeds to blast out some ear-splitting children's tune about chasing the rainbows and the dreams will follow. The woman on the vid screen rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

Grumpy Moff: Um...hey, that's really good singing, but I gotta get going now. I'm really tired from working all day. You know the Empire, work work work, ha ha. Heh.

Captain Stupid: Oh, sure sure, I gotcha. Go take a nap or something. I don't want to leave my friend hanging here, anyways.

I turn around to leave and Captain Stupid opens his mouth and sounds completely different from every time I've heard him speak. His usual irritating speech, flying at 100 words per second and filled with as much sense as a pile of bantha poodoo, completely disappears and he speaks slowly and precisely, like his life depended on what he was going to say.

Captain Stupid: Grumpy Moff...I know you were standing by my door. What did you hear?

Grumpy Moff: Huh?

Captain Stupid takes a step forward and his torso lifts to make him suddenly look much bigger. Stupidity can be intimidating in these situations.

Captain Stupid: The Empire can't stand for spies or eavesdropping. What did you head?

Grumpy Moff: Look, I just head you mention something about the Death Star exhaust port project. I hadn't heard anything about it, but I know that's why your here, so it just caught my ear. That's all.

Captain Stupid's brow furrows into a sharp W and he nods. Suddenly, his annoyingly chipper persona returns.

Captain Stupid: Ok, well, don't do that again. It's rude, you know. If you wanna say hi or something, just knock first. I always enjoy visitors, you know that.

Captain Stupid turns around and closes his door, slamming it a second time to make sure that it closes all the way. Usually, Captain Stupid can't shut up and will talk about anything, so for him to get all authoritarian on me is really bizarre.

He's gotta be hiding something. And if exposing him means that he'll be forced to leave the "Death Star", well then, I better do some digging.

Officer Hot Stuff saves my life

2005-07-09T17:07:00.000-07:00

Faithful Grumpy Moff readers will notice that I haven't mentioned Officer Hot Stuff since I boarded the "Death Star." Well, it's not cause I've forgotten her or focused on something else. I'll be the first to admit that I am, well, still a little nervous about chatting with her. Plus, the sign-ups for the "Death Star" intrasquad sports teams don't start for a few weeks, so it's not like I can talk with her about our volleyball plans yet.

Nonetheless, she did say I could look her up once we were both on the station. So after my shift today, I found the hanger bay she was stationed at and mustered up the courage to go say hello.
Officer Hot Stuff works in one of the main "Death Star" hanger bays. It's huge, able to launch probably a hundred fighters and shuttles in just a few minutes. For some reason, there seem to be gigantic holes in the floor too. I've noticed this at other places in the "Death Star"...just walking around, there are a lot of places that seemingly drop off into oblivion. You look down and it just goes WAY down. And the stupid thing is that they don't have any handrails. So if you're walking down the hall and you have your arms full or you are distracted, you could easily trip on one of the small message droids scuttling about and fall into the abyss. And there's several thousand people on the station, so it'd probably be days before they find you.

Of course, you would at least have the answer to the great mystery of where all of these gaping "Death Star" holes go.

Anyways, I walked into Main Hanger Bay 4 to see Officer Hot Stuff at the tail end of some traffic directing. After what happened the last time I approached her while she was directing traffic, the best course of action seemed to be to hang back by the elevator shafts until she was done. For the next few minutes, I simply enjoyed the sight of Officer Hot Stuff waving droids and transports back and forth, swishing her red hair about with authoritative style. My trance was broken when the elevator door opened to reveal a battalion of stormtroopers.

Now I'll preface this by saying that I've never really interacted with stormtroopers that much. Hell, I don't even know if they're still clones or if the Empire decided to get real people in there. You see them marching around everywhere, but they don't really talk. They could all be droids for all I know. So it was surprising for me to actually hear them speak. "Sir, please move out of the way. We are escorting important cargo on directives from Grand Moff Tarkin. Time is of the essence and nothing can slow us down," the leading stormtrooper said.

Not wanting to piss off Tarkin any further than his usual irritable state, I politely backed a few feet off to the left of the elevator. The stormtroopers fanned out of the lift and an astromech droid hauling a cargo crate followed behind. I mindlessly took another step back, setting in motion the most unlikeliest of circumstances. Of course, it involved me nearly dying.

The same moment I took a step back, the stormtroopers moved marched forward into the cargo bay. Simultaneously, Officer Hot Stuff was directing a small, knee-high transport droid to zip over to the elevator. In an effort to stay out of the way of the stormtroopers, the droid made a sharp maneuver around them, swivelling in a neat arc to pass about two feet in front of the troopers before banking sharply to run straight into my left leg. The impact of the droid, travelling at a comfortable 30 miles per hour and weighing about 200 pounds, knocked me off balance and made my leg really, really, really freakin' hurt.

As I hopped backwards on my right leg, the floor rumbled with the ignition of TIE fighter engines, causing my balance to further be disoriented. My right leg came down from a hop at a bizarrely twisiting angle, causing me to slip backwards.

Normally, this would just cause for a trip to the medic room and some security holo embarrassment. But unfortunately, I had failed to notice that the elevator was a few feet away from the aforementioned giant holes in the floor. As I slipped backwards, this realization appeared in my mind in a nice slow-motion "a-ha!" when my peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a grey shaft that disappeared into an ominious black dot. Not good.

Fortunately, there was a small piece of piping that jutted out about three feet down that I was able to grab on to. As I hung there, the clip-clops of the stormtroopers slowly faded away and there was only the noise of buzzing droids and moving vehicles.

"HEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPP!" I screamed, exhausting all of the breath that was in my body. "HEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPP!"

The cries appeared to be ineffective. Droids didn't stop zipping about. Vehicles didn't park and drop off rescue teams. In fact, my cries seemed to be the catalyst necesary to launch an entire squad of TIE fighters. At least my last grips on life could be properly serenated by the distinct sound of TIE fighters screaming by.

I counted 32 TIE fighter launches spaced exactly 70 seconds apart before the furor finally died down. In that time, I did discover one neat fact: the hanger bay ceiling is made up of neatly intersecting diamond-shaped tiles. Nice touch.

Faint bootsteps become louder and louder and I knew someone was approaching the elevator. Time for one last try. "HEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLPPPPPPPP!" I uttered.

"Who's there?" a voice piped up.

"Officer Hot Stuff? Is that you? It's me! Grumpy Moff! Help!" I yelled, my voice noticably starting to crack with desperation.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"I'm in the big...hole...thing...just follow my voice!" A few boot clip-clops later and Officer Hot Stuff's angelic head peered over the edge. "Thank goodness you're here. You gotta get me out of here. Call an astromech droid or something. My arms are gonna fall of soon." Officer Hot Stuff nodded and hailed an astromech droid from a nearby comm station.

"They should be here in 10 minutes. Can you hang on that long?" she asked.

"Um...no...hey, uh, how strong are you?" I asked.

Officer Hot Stuff wrinkled her nose. "Is this a trick question? Are you hitting on me again or are you doubting my athletic ability?"

"No, no, no. I know I'm out of arm's length, but maybe you can get a rod or something and lower it down and lift me out of here. Please."

Officer Hot Stuff's head swiveled around, looking for something to use as a manual elevator. She disappeared from the floor's edge; in her place came a fist-sized metal tube.

"Just grab on to this and hang on, ok?" she yelled. I wrapped my right arm around the tube, then tightened my grip on it with my left arm, and ordered my remaining functional leg to try and walk up the side as she pulled the tubing up.

"Unnnnnhhhhhhh...errrrrrrrrrrr....arrrrrrrrr," Officer Hot Stuff cried as she pulled me up. Though my life was dangerously close to slipping into an infinite Imperial space station chasm, I found myself strangely turned on at this point. The tube (and my body, complete with numb arms) slowly inched up and my head peeked over the edge of the floor. With what little feeling I had left in my arms and hands, I grabbed the corner of the floor. Officer Hot stuff dropped the tube and dashed over to pull me in.

Pull, actually, isn't the right word. It's more like she threw me in. Her arms reached down hug my torso, then she jerked backwards to propel me to safety. Safety, that is, being the hard and slick floor of the "Death Star." My body smacked the ground with a thud and I slid backward on the overly-polished floor tiles for a brief moment before my head collided with the elevator shaft.

I blinked back the tears generated from my pounded head and my eyes slowly came into focus to see Officer Hot Stuff kneeling down wearing a tight white t-shirt, her face covered in a light mist of sweat and her Imperial officer's jacket thrown to the side. I blinked several times to make sure this was not an illusion - perhaps I had died and this was my reward for a lifetime of unfortunate stupidity.

Boy, her arms are really not that buff considering her freakish strength.

Officer Hot Stuff hustled over. "Sorry about the throw. I've been practicing Mandalorian hand-to-hand strategies and I let that instinct take over. You ok?" I nodded, and then realized that my arms were still numb and rigid, unable to fully bend at the elbow. "Should I even ask how you fell down there or should I just pull up the security holo and laugh at you?"

Considering my near-brush with death and the pseudo-angelic vision of Officer Hot Stuff knelt over me with Imperial jacket off, a brief flicker of courage lit up in my gut before propelling through my vocal chords. "How about I explain it over dinner? I owe you one now, anyways."

Officer Hot Stuff smiled and got up to pick up her jacket. "Damn straight," she said. "And I'm not a cheap date either, so be prepared."

Leg: possibly broken from collision with speeding droid.
Head: possible concussion from smacking into elevator shaft.
Arms: possible nerve damage from hanging for 45 minutes.
Back: possible spine damage from being tossed on to the "Death Star" floor.

But it was all worth it for those last few words she spoke.

Vader's secret recipe

2005-07-06T18:22:00.000-07:00

Growing up at the tail end of the Clone Wars, I have to admit that I don't know much about the Jedi Knights other than what we learned in history class. But I do know that they had a really cool looking weapon, if not exactly the most practical one. Zipping around the galaxy swinging a laser sword looks pretty awesome if you're trying to impress babes, but I have no idea how they actually managed to win against blasters. Range = victory in my mind.

The reason I bring up the Jedi and their lightsabers is because we had a very interesting demonstration today at the Death Splash Bar and Grill. Yager Jarmorir, one of Coruscant's most noted chefs and holonet star of "Cooking the Yager Way!", was invited along to showcase his cooking talents on the Death Splash's stage for the crew. Those who were able to get off their shifts early dropped into the Death Splash to see (and taste) the demonstration in person, while the rest of the "Death Star" was able to watch via the comm system.

It was about as exciting as watching someone cook can be until about 30 minutes in when Jarmorir decided to show us a little cooking secret of his. "Now, ladies and gentlemen of the Death Star, I want to show you a new technique that I have just perfected over the past few months," he proclaimed. He motioned to his assistants to bring out some hunks of meat, then bent down and opened up a small metal case. "You old timers may recognize this," he said as he lifted out a small metal tube. "Many years ago, this was used as a weapon. But now, I have discovered the secret..." Jarmorir paused, taking a nicely timed dramatic breath before a bright blue energy blade expanded from the tube, "...the secret to the perfect grilled filet! Ladies and gentlemen, behold the cooking tool of the past...and the future...the Jedi lightsaber!"

Those who were standing at the front of the stage took a small step back. I think everyone knew their history well enough to realize those things could cut throw anything, especially when handled by an overly flamboyant chef. Jarmorir swung the lightsaber in a dramatic arc, its hum buzzing over the PA system. "Simple, but brilliant! Savage, but elegant! The lightsaber can be used for many different things in the kitchen. And it all finishes with the ultimate taste sensation!" Jarmorir's assistants picked up the hunks of meat and placed it on the stage's cooking table.

"Watch now as I cut and cook these bantha thighs with utmost precision!" Jarmorir proclaimed. He slowly guided the blade through the meat, cutting it into a small cube, before turning the blade on its side and holding it just barely over the meat. The heat from the saber gradually cooked the raw meat, first turning it pink, then a fine white color. Within minutes, the bantha thigh looked ready to eat.

"Now, who wants to try Yager's lightsaber delight?" he exclaimed to the crowd. Several hands shot up in the air. Jarmorir grinned from ear to ear, then quickly brought the saber down into the meat, cutting it into thin slices. His assistants handed the slices to the crowd volunteers who eagerly tasted the meat. "You will find lightsaber cooking is unlike anything you've had before. The meat stays juicy and tender on the inside, the outside is never burned, and it's always cooked evenly...that is...when Yager Jarmorir cooks it!" he exclaimed. The crowd applauded and Jarmorir held up his lightsaber in triumph, soaking in the applause.

After a few seconds, Jarmorir's face fell and drained of color. Those standing in front turned around and craned their necks to see a black helmet making its way through the crowd. Darth Vader was in the house.

"Lord Vader, this was...an unexpected surprise. I wasn't aware that you, um, you were such a...a fan of gourmet cooking," Jarmorir stammered. Vader walked up to the stage and stood toe to toe with Jarmorir.

"Where did you get that lightsaber?" Vader asked.

"At...at a swap store...on Nar Shadaa..." Jarmorir replied. Vader stood silently, his mechanized breathing soaking into the PA system.

"Interesting," Vader replied. He turned to Jarmorir's assistants. "Bring me some meat." Jarmorir's assistants nodded frantically and dashed backstage. "I will show you how it is done," Vader said, before opening his cloak and pulling out his very own lightsaber. The crowd oooed as he ignited the crimson blade. Jarmorir's assistants ran back, hands visibly shaking, as they placed another bantha thigh on to the stage table.

Vader pierced the thigh's center with his lightsaber, then slowly pulled the blade out, twisting the handle as he did so. Then, with a single violent motion, he chopped up and down to cut the thigh in half and made two quick horizontal slashes to trim the pieces into neat rectangles. Vader ran his saber through each rectangle lengthwise, then chopped each into 10 slices that neatly fell on to their sides. Vader's saber retracted and he stood behind the table.

"Who ate his samples?" Vader asked the audience. A few hands in the front raised. "Come here and try these," Vader commanded. The volunteers meekly walked up to the stage, picking up a piece of meat, and taking the slices from one bantha thigh rectangle. The volunteers faces softened, changing from puzzled fear to satisfaction as they chewed the samples.

"Wow, this is great Lord Vader," one volunteer said. Vader simply nodded his approval as the volunteers cleared the stage.

"I suggest you use sentry spices the next time you cook this, Yager," Vader said. Jarmorir nodded feverishly in silent reply. Vader turned to his assistants and said, "Have the remaining slices brought to my chambers." The assistants silently gathered the remaining pieces as Vader walked off behind the stage and disappeared.

The stunned crowd stood silent before breaking into polite applause. Who knew that Vader could cook?

The Death Star's pub

2005-07-02T17:42:00.000-07:00

I finally had a day off today so I was able to check out some of the goodies around the "Death Star." I know I've mentioned it before, but this place is ridiculously big. If there was ever a power outage, I think everyone would be screwed. Without elevators, no one could get anywhere. They do have little motorized carts that go around, but I think you have to get a permit to get that. And they're not giving those out to turbolaser supervisors who have only been here a week.

First place I went to check out Death Splash Bar and Grill. There are lounge areas on the Star Destroyer, but nothing like this. It's a big place, certainly the same size as any major cantina or club in Coruscant's entertainment district. The decor is a mix of Imperial memorabilia and sports holos and vids from across the galaxy. There's a history of Imperial uniforms, the evolution of the clone/stormtrooper armor, models of each ship in the fleet. Bright screens surround the tables and stools broadcasting every sport imaginable in the galaxy. Tucked away in one corner is a holo arcade with 5 or 6 different games. I would have checked it out, but I spied Captain Stupid hanging out over there and remaining inconspicuous seemed to be the wiser option.

There's also a stage, so I'm assuming they will have live music or some other events. The place has to entertain several thousand people, so it's gotta have a variety of stuff.

I'm not sure if the Emperor authorized it all, as some of the wall holos are not exactly the most dignified stuff. One holo is of Emperor Palpatine in his younger days as a Naboo senator. It's off the holonet news and it's a gathering of senators at a charity sonicball game. Here's how it went:

Holonet interviewer: Senator Palpatine, why did you throw your support to this charity sonicball game?

Palpatine: It really comes down to supporting what's best for Naboo and other systems like our dear world. The credits raised here will be used to revitalize certain areas that are in danger of being harmed by our modern technology.

Holonet interviewer: That's really a wonderful cause, Senator. Now, are you participating in the sonicball match or are you here to donate your time?

Palpatine: Young lady, you flatter me. I'm not nearly strong enough to participate in sonicball, even if it is an exhibition match. I'm afraid these young players would run over my tired old body. (Palpatine gives a wry smirk) Back in my younger days, I did participate in a number of different sports, and I did have a knack for throwing the sonicball quite well...

At this point, the players warming up in the background lose control of the sonicball. Off camera, someone shouts, "Look out!" and the sonicball comes flying toward the camera. Palpatine turns around only to have it smack him square in the face. He bends over holding his head and it must have knocked him pretty darn good, because his eyes are so irritated with tears they appear a bright yellowish red. One of the players in the background yells, "Sorry!" and the holonet interviewer asks Palpatine if he is all right repeatedly. Palpatine blinks back his irritated tears and his eyes slowly return to normal as his jaw unlocks from a furious grimace. He offers a weak smile.

Palpatine: Well, you see, I would not be strong enough to participate in this match, my dear.

Holonet interviewer: I'm so glad you are all right, Senator. We'll let you go so you can get some treatment.

As the holonet interviewer is signing off, Palpatine bends down and picks up the sonicball. One of the players is waving for the throw even though he's all the way down the court. Palpatine must have channeled his fury or something into that throw because he launches the ball with the speed faster than my turbolasers. The player catches the ball and stumbles backwards, his teammates gawking in stunned silence. Palpatine smiles to himself and walks off camera.

So apparently, he wasn't kidding about having sonicball experience. Maybe he'll participate in the intra-station league.

See, Tarkin IS a jerk

2005-06-29T21:17:00.000-07:00

I've only had a few run-ins with Grand Moff Tarkin during my Imperial career. Most of those times, he and I were in the same meeting and Tarkin was quick to put the verbal smackdown on anyone who spoke out of line. He's really an unpleasant fellow to be around - I don't care what Captain Stupid says otherwise. So I wasn't exactly pleased to hear that Tarkin would be individually visiting each section during the first few weeks aboard the "Death Star."

I'm wondering if he's using the old Clone Wars technology to make multiple copies of himself in order to pull this off. The "Death Star" is really, really big. I imagine it would take several months to actually visit each section, even if you were just doing a fly-by hello. Which, of course, Tarkin won't because he's way too much of a jerk to do that. He's the type of person to stand over your shoulder and criticize the way you press a button on your control panel - you know, too much pressure on the botton, gloves not clean enough so they don't get the proper grip, wrists not held up in an upright fashion to prevent repetitive strain while firing turbolasers, that sort of thing.

Seeing that we're in the weapons department, Tarkin decided we would be among the first to be visited. Now I previously whined about Captain Big Nose and the rather boring ensemble gathered here. There is one guy who's actually pretty cool, and I think he might even be lazier than me. I call him Fun Commander. I don't think we'll ever be great friends, but at least he's not strict duty man like Captain Big Nose and his consortium of stick-up-the-butt officer pals.

I got the memo about Tarkin's visit so I made sure that my "Look real busy while not really doing anything" talents were set to active. Apparently, Fun Commander missed the memo. Here is the wackiness that ensued.

Tarkin: Well, I see that you have a fine turbolaser crew here. What is your name, son?

GM: Grumpy Moff, sir!

Tarkin: Very good, Grumpy Moff. Where were stationed previously?

GM: Star Destroyer Devastator, under the supervision of Grand Moff Dabow, sir!

Tarkin: Ah, yes, Dabow. Respectable fellow, though he is a little soft around the edges at times. Sometimes, I think Dabow believes we are on Imperial vacation, but we are not, are we Grumpy Moff?

GM: No sir! Vacations are not for Imperials, sir! Unless, um, they use their allocated vacation time, sir! Then vacations are ok, sir! But not during times of crisis or, um, other...times...when you shouldn't be on vacation...sir! (Tarkin cocks one eyebrow and his sullen cheeks waver as he grimaces. I think he's not sure what to think about my rambling.) Except, um, during instances of family emergencies or other Emperor-approved absences, sir! Sick time is also ok to use, if you have accumulated the proper amount of hours necessary except, um, when you're not really sick, then, uh, you shouldn't use sick time, you should use vacation time, Sir! (I let out a big breath and the blood drains from my face after that breathlessly worded exchange)

Tarkin: Well, I am glad to see that someone here has read the Imperial handbook on employee vacation and time off.

GM: Sir, yes sir!

Tarkin: And you (turning to Captain Big Nose), what is your name and occupation?

CBN: Captain Big Nose, sir! Supervisor for the 423 and 424 turbolaser division, sir! We are the most precise turbolaser crew in the fleet and we would love to demonstrate our capabilities for you at any time, sir!

Jeez, why don't you brag a little more? Captain Big Nose's monster schnauz appears to be magnetically drawn to Tarkin's butt.

Tarkin: Excellent attitude, young man. That's why we brought you on board the Death Star. Now, why don't you show me -

Suddenly, the door to the work section opens up and it's Fun Commander. Now, keep in mind that normally there's some leeway to arrival in the morning. He's really only 3 minutes late, but he picked the wrong 3 minutes to be late. Fun Commander trots in, nods hello to me, and then sees Tarkin. He stops dead in his tracks and his face becomes as white as Hoth on a blizzard morning.

FC: Oh...Grand Moff Tarkin...sir, I mean, um, good to see you sir! Fine morning for turbolasers, isn't it?

Tarkin: You, young man, are late to your duties!

Captain Big Nose: Fun Commander, you knew that Grand Moff Tarkin was touring our area today! Arriving late represents the entire turbolaser staff poorly!

Fun Commander shoots turbolasers from his eyes to Captain Big Nose and turns back to Tarkin.

FC: I'm, ah, sorry sir, the elevator was backed up today and uh...

Tarkin: The Empire will not tolerate excuses or poor work. You must be at your station on time every day that you are assigned to work. There is no exception to this rule.

Grumpy Moff: Um, what if you call in sick? You know, like we just talked about, if you have accumulated sick time and you wake up not feeling...

Tarkin: YES, sick time is allowable but your supervisor must be notified at least one hour in advance. (Tarkin steps forward toward Fun Commander. Even though Fun Commander is several inches taller than Tarkin, right now he seems about four feet shorter than him) Did you call your supervisor to tell him that you would be late?

FC: Well, no, the elevator was backed up going from...

Tarkin: EVERY STATION AND CONSOLE HAS COMMUNICATIONS. DID YOU NOTIFY YOUR SUPERVISOR?

FC: (looks to me and receives a quick, worried shrug of the shoulders) Um...no sir...no, I did not.

Tarkin: Well, it seems as if SOME members of this team are the best of the best (nods to Captain Big Nose) while some may not be cut out for the Death Star. I would sharpen up my act if I were you, young man.

FC: Yes sir! Your advice is noted, sir!

Tarkin: Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I must visit the other weapons sections. But before I leave, Fun Commander, may I ask you a question?

FC: Sir, yes sir!

Tarkin: What is your home planet?

FC: Berforse, sir! (Fun Commander pauses in thought) May I ask why you wish to know?

Tarkin cracks a wry smile and taps his temple.

Tarkin: Oh, I'll just tuck that away in here in case we ever fly by it. You never know when this station will need to test its...capabilities.

The room falls silent other than the click-clacks of Tarkin's boots as he walks out the door.

Yes sir, Tarkin certainly is a jerk.

Captain Stupid returns

2005-06-28T17:03:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I bet you're all wondering how Captain Stupid wound up being my next door neighbor. Well, I'm wondering about that too! Perhaps the Emperor saw my blog, did some research, and figured out who I was and this is his way of punishing me. Or mocking me. It could be a great big social experiment to see how long I go before killing him, going insane, or letting myself fly out of an airlock. Whatever the reason, he is here and I must deal.

How he got transferred here is another story. In fact, one tiny little decision I made a few weeks ago has guaranteed me indefinite suffering. You see, some time ago, back on the Devastator, I received my "Death Star" technical plans in a nice holo format. My tendency to procrastinate ensured that I did not look at the damn holo for over a week. One night, I told myself that I would finally get around to looking at it. Unfortunately, as I was making my regular rounds around the turbolaser stations, one of my buddies suggested I join in on a pazaak game that night. Giving into temptation, I agreed, shoving my "Death Star" plans review further down my schedule.

The next morning, I work up about an hour early and walked into the mess hall with the "Death Star" holo in hand. I was going to be a good Grumpy Moff and do my duty and look over the plans while I ate breakfast. And of course, that was the fateful breakfast where Captain Stupid saw me and borrowed my plans. What did he discover when I lent him the plans? Well, I had no clue until he saw me the first morning on the "Death Star" unpacking my quarters. There I was, just unpacking my clothes like a good Imperial officer when I heard a knock on the door.

Gm: Come in.

CS: (opens door) Oh. My. Goodness. Wow wow wow wow wow. I can't believe you're here! You're in this room? Oh. My. Goodness. Mygoodness! This is incredible, what a complete coin-

GM: Wait a minute. What are you doing here? Don't you have to be on the Devastator?

CS: Oh, I wasn't part of the initial transfer crew, but you see, when you let me borrow your plans, I spent a lot of time analyzing it. A lot of time. Several days, in fact. Oh, you know that. I mean, you came and got the plans back from me, so you must have been able to calculate...

GM: How did you get on board?

CS: Oh, yes yes yes yes yes. Well, you see, there's an exhaust port on the end of the Death Star's equatorial trench. You know, the big line that runs across the station, there's a little hole where exhaust from the main power conduits release steam and...

GM: I'm aware of that. What happened?

CS: Well, by my calculations, the Empire designed it with just below the bare minimum of space. It's only about half a meter wide, which means that some subsystems may get overdrawn in their power, giving erratic fluctuations to several power grids affecting sections A5, B25, the fourth main gun laser generator, docking bay 66, and um...dang...what was the last thing...it was really important...

GM: So the port was too small? Why'd they need you on board? Couldn't they fix it?

CS: Well, sure, they could just EXPAND it, but that wouldn't optimize it. Nosirree, they needed a specialist to do it, and even though I'm TECHNICALLY not in the thermal design group, I showed my calculations to Grand Moff Dabow, who forwarded it to Grand Moff Tarkin - REALLY nice guy, once you get to know him, he can talk technical data for ages - and Tarkin decided that I should be the one overseeing the project...

GM: (under my breath) bloody hell!

CS: ...and I EVEN got to have an audience with the Emperor to explain the situation! Nice guy, very firm handshake - you wouldn't think so considering how old he is. You know what's weird? He's got those red guards who just follow him around, I wonder if they follow him into the toilet...

GM: So...you're just here temporarily?

CS: No no no, the Emperor requested that I stay on board permanently! He was THAT pleased with my design. (Captain Stupid beams) Man, sometimes I just can't help myself. This is so great! I'm so glad a friend like you is living next door to me!

Yup, I did this to myself. I procrastinated reading the plans, I chose pazaak over studying them, I brought them to breakfast, I let Captain Stupid borrow them, I let him keep it for several days.

Somewhere, fate is laughing at me.

Life on the "Death Star"

2005-06-26T23:08:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the lack of an update over the past few days. It's been fairly hectic as we've been unpacking and getting situated here on the "Death Star." My initial reactions with the place - it's really, really, really, really big. Very easy to get lost here. The interior designer must have been depressed or something because it's all blacks and greys. Granted, that's pretty standard Imperial stuff, but on the Devastator, each section had some minor variations 1) to give it SOME life and 2) so we wouldn't get hopelessly lost.

Here's how bad it was. All of the officer quarters are lumped together in one gigantic section in the lower half of the station. Nope, they didn't break it up by section that you were assigned to, everyone is in this giant lump of rooms regardless of where you have to work. That means some poor bastard probably has to travel from one corner of the station to the other while some people (like me) only have to walk about 5 minutes to get to work. The technical designer of the place was a genius, but whoever came up with the practical logistics of the place should be blasted. The rooms are actually quite spacious, just a tad bigger than those on the Devastator. I haven't had time to check out the bar & grill or any of the sports/exercise facilities, but I'm sure I'll get to that soon.

Oh, and did I mention that my next door neighbor is Captain Stupid? Yes, he has gone from random annoying acquaintence on the Devastator to daily horrific encounter. I'll relay the story of how he managed to get transferred here in my next posting, I want to focus on the practicalities involved with living here first.

As was rumored, there are no offices, at least not for the turbolaser divisions. Instead, we have soft-walled 'cubes' - four foot tall dividers separating desks and work stations. Everyone who sits around me is a fellow turbolaser supervisor, though we all have different teams under out watch. My suspicions about the complete lack of privacy were absolutely correct. There's no way I can get away with goofing off around here. I'm either going to have to become severely less efficient at what I do (i.e. take 8 hours to do what I usually do in 2) or figure out a way to look busy and not get bored. This will be a challenge.

My 'work section' mates are, well, pretty bland and a little f. I've only met one of the guys, Officer Big Nose (cruel, but it is his most striking quality), and he appears to be a much more dedicated worker than I am. This was our initial conversation:

Grumpy Moff: Hey, how's it going? Guess we'll be sitting by each other.

Officer Big Nose: Yeah, I'm excited. I'm so glad they got rid of the offices and put up the cube sections. I love being able to see what my peers are doing - that's the best way to learn and to become a better officer.

GM: Um...yeah...that sounds good. So I guess I won't watch my dancing Twi'Lek holos while you're around, huh? (nervous laugh as I try to gauge his response)

OBN: (stern frown) You are joking, right?

GM: Oh, um, of course! I would never watch something like that during working hours. That's why we have our quarters, right? (meekly) Heh heh...heh.

OBN: I feel the exact same way. You should never let your personal desires interfere with your duty. That's not the Imperial way.

GM: Yup. I'm, um, all about duty and...stuff. (sigh) Glad I'm on board with such a...dedicated team.

OBN: Yes, I have a feeling we'll have the best turbolaser crews in the galaxy! (he gives a hearty fist pump - I match with semi-enthusiastic fist pump that comes off more like I'm shaking a chance cube in my palm)

My worst fears have been realized. Not only has the privacy of my office been taken away, I'm stationed next to a psychotically duty-filled Imperial nut. Duty is all well and good, but I'm pretty much happy doing the bare minimum that keeps the Emperor from noticing I exist while I collect a paycheck. I am currently concocting a way to decorate my cube so I can shield what I am doing from any passer bys and nosy neighboring officers.

The Empire: Security is Job 1

2005-06-21T13:27:00.000-07:00

My last batch of meetings was a security do's and don'ts with my sections security officer. I've learned two things today. 1) Security is REALLY REALLY important to the Empire. 2) The Empire was kind enough to commission a bunch of 4th rate actors to make a holo on this whole thing for us. I'm going to try my best to translate their inflections to writing, but needless to say, they're not ready for prime time holonet shows yet.

The best way to read this is to say it outloud with the way I've punctuated it. That will give you an idea of how the "performance" was in this holo.

Host guy: (holo fades in with Host Guy standing in front of some terminals. officers are in the background) Welcome! To the Death Star you are the best of the best and we are so pleased. To have you here with us.

Host guy starts walking past the terminals. Some of the officers in the background have started craning their necks to see what is going on - apparently, they didn't tell the skeleton crew what they were doing.

Host guy: In the Empire, security is of up-most importance. That's why, we've GOT some rules to go over with you.

At this point, a guy in a plastic Darth Vader helmet and a black cape walks into camera view. Off camera, you can hear a dilligent sound effects man going "HOOOOOO PHAAAAAAAW" to emulate Vader's breathing noise. Darth Faker's grey imperial uniform is sticking out from underneath his cape. I have a feeling the filmmaker will be killed in a few short days.

Host guy: My GOODNESS! Lord Vader what a suprise what are you...doing here?

The fake Vader begins to speak. His voice has not been dubbed over; in fact, it is the actor's voice spoken at his lowest possible monotone level THROUGH the mask. While his intentions as an actor were probably spot on, the fact that he had a big plastic mask and a guy off camera making breathing noises didn't help.

Darth Faker: (incoherent monotone mumbling)

Host guy: (big smile) That's right, Lord Vader. Security! Is job 1. With the Empire.

Darth Faker: (more incoherent monotone mumbling)

Host guy: Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha. Oh Lord Vader you flatter me I am not in charge of security.

Darth Faker: (grunting question noise and points to himself)

Host guy: No Lord Vader it's not up to you EITHER!

Darth Faker: (shrugs his shoulders, shakes his head before raising his arms in an "A ha!" moment of inspired method acting)

Host guy and Darth Faker in unison: (turn to the camera and point at it) It is up to YOU (Darth Faker shakes his hand) to ensure the security and safety of your fellow officers. On the Death. STAR!

I'm assuming Darth Faker said the same line as the Host Guy. In reality, it sounded like Host Guy talking over a garbaled transmission slowed down by a factor of 10.

The holo then cuts to Host Guy standing with a group of stormtroopers and officers in front of the docking bay.

Host Guy: Now you KNOW that when shuttles land. ANYONE. Can be on board. If you don't know them they might, just be, a Rebel spy the Death Star code strictly states. That you don't reveal any tech...technical data about this station to any new landing parties that, um, (his eyes squint) you...you...you...don't know let's see an example.

Stormtrooper A and Officer B step to the forefront. This is gonna be good.

Stormtrooper A: May I see your landing clearance please sir.

Officer B: Oh no I must have left it on the Star Destroyer I am so sorry for this mishap might you show me a readout. Of the. Facility. So I can get to a comm sta...station and contact them.

Stormtrooper A: (shakes his head from side to side) I am sorry sir? I can escort you to a comm station. But I cannot allow you to see. Any tech-i-ni-cal data.

Host Guy: (walks over and puts his arm around Stormtrooper A) Good job! Trooper. Without proper landing, clearance, you don't know who just might be a Rebel spy it's best to take them to the comm station. And witness their verification in person.

Officer B and Stormtrooper A both turn to the camera and flash a big Imperial thumbs up. The holo cuts to Host Guy standing with another stormtrooper (Stormtrooper B) in front of a hallway.

Host Guy: Certain areas of the death STAR. Are only axeble (accessible) with code clearance each door has a detector that sense. Whether...or not you have code clearance now let's watch an example?

Stormtrooper B: (walks down the hallway and stops in front of the door) I need to speak with the officer in the next room.

Stormtrooper B begins again and walks straight into the door with a notable THUD. He turns around and walks to the camera scratching his helmeted head.

Stormtrooper B: Oh. My. I must not have clearance. What can I do now.

Officer B walks into the camera view with a memo tablet. He stops, looks at the floor and back at the camera, squints to the left off camera, and takes another two steps forward before handing the memo tablet to Stormtrooper B.

Officer B: I, um...I...um...you'll be needing...(looks off camera) to fill out this tablet. Forpermission. I mean. Fill out this tablet for permission...(looks off camera)...and you can get access to this, um, section. I...um...(sighs and looks at floor, then back off camera, then back to the stormtrooper) are available at any section officer's station just ask for Netto that's me. Oh! That's me (Officer B flashes the Imperial thumbs up while his brow furrows and his eyes squint). That's me.

Host guy walks back into view while Officer B's shoulders slump and he shakes his head.

Host Guy: For reasons of up-ah-most security the Empire requires access on a...need-to-go basis this protects both you and us. And remember!

Officer B and Stormtrooper B flank Host Guy and the give the Imperial thumbs up in unison.

All three: TOGETHER WE ARE THE DEATH STAR FAMILY (family).

I could go on as there was another hour of actors plucked out of the worst outer rim drama schools telling us about the dangers of carrying charged rifles, what to do in case of a fire, and when one drink in the pub is too much. But I won't make you suffer through it. I just had to show you a small glimpse of this horror.

This is why I left home

2005-06-18T17:00:00.000-07:00

Once I managed to wake up my butt from eight hours of sitting and listening to Grand Moff Tarkin discuss every technical aspect of the "Death Star," it was time to go have dinner with the family. As I previously mentioned, my folks are pretty average people in suburban Coruscant. My sister is a singer at the Galactic Opera House, which obviously knocks me down the "We're proud of you" chain. I can't carry a tune or be adored by thousands of people each night, but I have the power to order a guy in a funny helmet to clean his turbolaser control unit. Yeah!

I arrived a little late for dinner only to find Grumpy Sister and her new boyfriend (a holonet actor) already there chatting away. Apparently, the news of the day was that the Rebels attacked a frigate in the Entnue system filled with medical supplies, school toys, and a children's theater crew.

Mom: Grumpy Moff, you're late! We've only got a few precious ours before you ship off to the Kill Star and you show up late?

GM: Mom, I got held up at the briefing. And it's the DEATH Star. Not Kill Star, not Murder Station, not Death Moon. Death. Star. (sigh) Anyways, Tarkin likes to talk for hours and hours. I think technical data is his version of pornography.

Dad: Don't you be brining up pornography around your family. We raised you better than that. You've been spending too much time with those Imperial types. I bet they all have filthy military mouths.

GM: I'm not in the military. I'm in maintenance. And besides, they're cool guys.

Sister: Are you gonna go hunt down those damn Rebels? They keep blowing up childrens supplies! What heartless people would destroy a convoy of toys?

Dumb Boyfriend: Rebel scum...they've never known pain and suffering. What are they complaining about? We give them security, entertainment, peace, and they go around blowing up the galaxy. I was reading for a holonet movie role about a Rebel pilot and I just couldn't get into the mentality to grasp the role. They're so vile, so ruthless.

GM: You know, um, I've spent quite a while on ships investigating Rebel attacks and honestly, I don't think we've ever come across destroyed children's toys. They seem to hit ammo dumps and supply centers.

Dumb Boyfriend: You're so blind! Don't you watch the news? Palpatine was just on naming all of the different types of toys that the Rebels blew up in the last attack. Model ships, action figures, stuffed zoo creatures...those poor, poor children.

GM: How can I be blind if I'm out there on the mission? The Devastator picked up survivors from five attacks over the past year, all military related.

Sister: Well, obviously, they're feeding you the wrong information. They could lie to their little troops, but they wouldn't lie to us. Everyone knows Palpatine is an honest ruler.

Mom: That's right! Why, I remember when the Jedi attacked him. You two were both so young, but it was a very frightening time. I knew after that he would be the strongest leader we could have.

Dad: Damn old man's been through a lot. I don't know how he keeps it all together.

GM: I'm not saying Palpatine's good or bad. I'm not saying the Rebels are not terrorists. I'm just saying that maybe they're...exaggerating the news a little bit. You know, to make it more dramatic. To give people like him (points to Dumb Boyfriend) stupid things to make holo-movies about.

Dumb Boyfriend: Watch it buddy, I'll kick your...

Dad: That's enough. We are here to enjoy a nice dinner as a family.

Of course, the subject didn't drop, it just took a 10 minute break. For the next three hours, I actually found myself defending the Rebels actions. Not cause I agreed or disagreed with them - hell, the only reason I think I'm in the Empire is because I was born to it. My ideology is really just "Look out for #1 and hot Twi'Leks," not the Empire rules or sucks or whatever. I get a paycheck, hand out with my crewmates, and that's that. But I'm definitely disturbed at this...disinformation the Empire is handing out. We obviously don't see any of it because we (at least on the Devastator) had more important tasks on hand, but apparently the civilian holonet is filled with this. And it's been so ingrained in the minds of the public that I couldn't even convince them that the Rebels had only struck military targets on my watch.

The only good thing about the evening was my mom didn't ask about my lovelife. I'd much rather discuss politics than that any day.

Vader let me pee. He's a good guy.

2005-06-15T17:29:00.000-07:00

Here’s an idea. When enjoying an evening with your friends the night before a big Imperial meeting, DON’T go to a dancing Twi’Lek bar and consume so many beverages that you can’t recall the difference between the number of glasses poured and the number of Twi’Lek tails that passed by the stage. Oh, my head.

Here’s another idea. Set your alarm. Otherwise, you’ll wake up groggy, disoriented, and dehydrated 10 minutes before the Emperor goes on stage in the Senate building to talk about your new assignment on the “Death Star.”

Yes friends, I was stupid enough to do this. In a hurry, I threw my standard Imperial uniform on, straightened the officer’s cap over my disheveled (and not in a stylish way) hair, grabbed as many water bottles as I could find out of the hotel fridge (hoping the Empire wouldn’t bill me later), and ran out of my hotel room. The good news was that the Senate building was just across the street. The better news was that there seats still available on the end of some of the back rows. I slid in, downed the first bottle of water, and sat back as the Emperor took stage.

“Welcome, my friends. You are the best of the best, the defenders of the Imperial way of life, and the standard for all officers. You are the crew of the Death Star, the greatest peace-spreading space station in the galaxy!”

The thousands of pairs of leather-gloved hands started clapping, the dense applause filling the room and making my head feel like twenty starving wookiees were trying to escape from it. On to water bottle #2. Go away, damn dehydration, and take the headache away with you.

Why does the Emperor only wear a black robe? Is it cause it hides stains? I bet he’s wearing sandles and his pajamas under there. Running the galaxy has its priviliges, you know.

“The Death Star will provide peace, security, and order for our galaxy. No more will the threats
of Rebel terrorists cause our citizens to cower in fear. No, the Rebels will be the ones trembling. With the power to destroy an entire planet, the Rebels will never again destroy a school or murder the children of the Empire. We shall have lasting peace!” the Emperor proclaimed.

Damn, when did the Rebels start killing children? My memories raced through all of the holonet transmissions I had seen recently, but I couldn’t pull up anything like that. Probably cause I preferred to watch the loveably obnoxious family on Hutt in a Rutt or my Galactic Pazaak Championships instead of the news.

I suddenly remembered Grumpy B’s request from the previous evening’s drinking session - if we blow up any planets, scout for hot Twi’Leks first.

The Emperor repeated himself in several creative (but obviously uninspired) ways before handing things over to Grand Moff Tarkin. Tarkin, with cheeks as deep as Utapau sinkholes, is never a fun guy to be around. Always talking about missions and control and fear and technical mumbo jumbo. Tarkin droned on for what seeemed to be 3 days, though in reality, it was only 5 minutes. It’s really sad when taking random sips from a water bottle is your best form of entertainment in the room.

The lights dimmed and a large holo schematic of the “Death Star” projected in front of Tarkin. Tarkin magically produced laser pointer shooting out a thick beam (I think he removed it from his butt - something’s gotta be jammed up there) to go over sections and specs in detail.

At this time, I realized a new pain was creeping into my body. It wasn’t the headache, it wasn’t the stiff chairs of the auditorium, and it wasn’t the mental anguish from sitting in a boring Tarkin presentation. All of the water I was trying to generously restore into my body was taking its toll. Hangover dehydration be damned, I had to pee. Pretty bad too. And my body was still cursing me for the hours of holding it back in my last day at the office on the Devastator - I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

With all eyes focused on the holo of the “Death Star,” I snuck out of my end-of-the-row seat and walked quietly towards the back exit. Once I cleared the corridor, I raced down the hallway and made an abrupt left turn into the black armor of a walking respirator.

“Oh. Um. Hello, Lord Vader...um...how’s it going?” I meekly asked.

Vader stood in dignified silence as his respirator churned. HOOOO-PHAAAW. HOOO-PHAAAW.
Damn, that’s creepy. Has anyone ever told him that? I’m sure they could put a silencing mechanism on it.

“What are you doing out here? This is a mandatory meeting,” Vader intoned.

“Oh, I know. It’s just that last night I drank too much and I...”

“You knew of your day’s duties and you chose to act irresponsibly last night? The Emperor will be displeased to learn of your desire to leave the meeting,” Vader said.

“Um, I’m not actually trying to LEAVE the meeting per se, I just need to...”

“Do not try to fool me. The Death Star only uses the best officers. If you feel you cannot handle the responsibility (at this point, my bladder has started giving me the red flag - I really gotta go), then perhaps the Empire can suitably replace you with someone who is up for the challenge,” Vader said.

“Oh, I want to be here. I really do. It’s just that I...”

“Then why are you trying to leave? Perhaps the Emperor made a mistake by choosing you for the Death Star,” Vader replied.

At this point, I really was feeling the itch to relieve myself. I tried desperately to avoid thinking about water. My mind searched for anything else. Garbage. Twi’Leks. Spaceships. Trees.

“The Death Star is the ultimate power in the galaxy. It will protect the Empire and destroy the Rebel Alliance! It cannot be operated by fools!”

Garbage. Twi’Leks. Spaceships. Trees. Not water. Not rushing water. Not Twi’leks surfing on garbage to get to their ocean spaceship. Aw, damn.

“If you feel you are above this duty, then you shall be punished!”

HOOO-PHAAAW. HOOOO-PHAAW. Dear lord, even Vader’s breathing is starting to sound like flushing toilets. HOOO-PHAAW. HOOOO-PHAAW.

“How do you explain your behavior?”

Not Twi’leks surfing on garbage to get to ocean spaceships. Not water. Not toilets. Nothing rushing or pouring or splashing. HOOO-PHAAW. HOOOO-PHAAW.

“HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN YOUR BEHAVIOR?”

“Lord Vader, if you don’t move RIGHT NOW, my bladder will explode and I will pee all over the floor. Now please, WHERE IS THE TOILET?” The words came out in a desperate, half-crazed run-on sentence. I’m not even sure if it was coherent, but that’s what I intended to say.

HOOOO-PHAAAW. HOOO-PHAAW. Vader looked at me, then to the floor, then back at me.
“The Emperor will be most displeased if the Senate carpeting is soiled. Go down the hallway and make your first right,” Vader said.

“Thank you, Lord Vader!” I yelled as I ran down the hallway.

“Don’t let me catch you in this predi...” Vader started to say. I’m sure he wanted to tell me not to do this again, but his voice had already trailed off as I sprinted to the toilet door. After I finished, Vader was waiting for me outside. I didn’t say a word, just walked back to my seat and sat through the rest of Tarkin’s presentation like a good Grumpy Moff. All 8 hours of it.

Drinks, Twi'Leks, and the Rebel Alliance

2005-06-15T00:17:00.000-07:00

Much to the chagrin of my mom and sister - that is, if they knew - we decided to go to a dancing Twi'Lek bar in the entertainment district of the capital. Just like old times at the Academy with myself, Grumpy J, Grumpy S, and Grumpy B. All three of them took their Academy degrees and moved on elsewhere whereas I am dumb enough to wear a grey uniform all day and float around in space. Most of the time was just spent telling and retelling old stories, but there was one interesting discussion that happened about 4 drinks in when Grumpy S and Grumpy J decided to go to the Twi'Lek stage and lose their credits.

B: So, Grumpy Moff, when do you ship out to the big floating gun?

GM: Just in a few days. There's some meetings at the Senate building, then we pick up our stuff and go.

B: What do you think about the whole thing?

GM: Well, it's pretty cool. Galactic Championship-size swimming pools, volleyball leagues, they've even got their own bar and grill. Free holo games too - no more losing credits to play the pod race sim anymore. I can't complain. Hey, you should swing by and drop in on one of our volleyball games, I think I can get a guest -

B: That's not what I meant. What do you think about having a big floating gun that can destroy planets?

GM: Hmmm. Well, I dunno. The Emperor says it's for our protection, so I'm cool with it. I'm just a turbolaser maintenance guy, I don't get involved with the politics of the whole thing. I figured it's more a scare tactic than anything else - how is it physically possible to fire a laser that big?

B: Blowing up planets is not cool. There's always innocents on there, even if most of the population are traitors or scum.

GM: Or hot Twi'Leks.

B: Or hot Twi'Leks! Exactly! See what I mean? What if the Spice Mine Babes (the Twi'Lek pop band comprised of four extremely photogenic female singers with little-to-no singing and/or dancing ability...not that it matters) were touring on a planet that the Empire pegged to blow up? Sure, we'd get rid of the jerks and troublemakers, but we'd blow up the hot Twi'Leks! That ain't cool!

GM: Jeez, Grumpy B, don't make me question what I'm doing right before I ship out. I have to go there - I'm joining a volleyball team with Officer Hot Stuff!

B: All I'm saying is I don't think the Rebel Alliance is that bad. I don't necessarily agree with their methods, but sometimes their ideas make sense. Let's face it, sometimes the Emperor's a jerk. Do you think it's coincidence that President Lucjean's shuttle crashed two hours after he spilled wine on Palpatine at the Imperial Gala last year?

GM: Wine stains ARE hard to get out. I see what you mean, but what am I going to do about it? I gotta make a living, right? Where else can they use a turbolaser maintenance guy? I bet the Rebels don't pay nearly as well as the Empire - and do they have a floating space station with a bar and grill?

B: Bar and grill's a pretty tall order to beat. Hey, at least you're not brainwashed by all the stuff on the holonet news. I don't trust those politicians. Any of them. And they're the ones calling the shots.

GM: I'll make you a deal. If one of my bosses wants to blow up a planet, I'll run a scan to make sure there's no hot Twi'Leks on it first. Deal?

B: Deal. Just keep your head on straight, ok? Don't listen to the politicians - they're full of crap.

GM: I don't have time to listen to them anyways. I gotta figure out how not to look like an idiot in front of Officer Hot Stuff!

The rest of the evening involved wasted credits, dancing Twi'Leks, and one (or four) too many drinks, especially for someone going to an Imperial briefing tomorrow. I can't be the only one going hungover, right? Grumpy B's always been the sensible friend, though, and he does have a point. I suppose there is at least a little bit inherently wrong about working on something that zips through the galaxy blowing up planets (or at least threatening to).

But damn it, they've got their own bar and grill! What other workplace has that?

Home is where the Moff is

2005-06-14T17:56:00.000-07:00

I finally made it to Coruscant. The Empire was kind enough to put us up in the swanky Blue Star Hotel across the street from where the meetings are taking place in the Senate building. Tomorrow, the Emperor will host a large "Welcome to the Death Star" pep talk, the next day is a one-on-one with my section's supervisor and a meet & greet with the new turbolaser team. The last day is a security do's and don'ts review, then it's party for one night and off to the "Death Star" for our new assignment.

Tomorrow will also be a reunion of sorts. After the Emperor's briefing, I'll be heading back to the old neighborhood to have dinner with the family. If I'm lucky, my folks will gush over how successful my sister's new holonet star boyfriend is. I can't wait.

In the meantime, some old Academy buddies and I are heading out for drinks tonight. I'll be sure to tell them the "authentic" tale of what is happening with me and Officer Hot Stuff. I'll write more later.

On the way to Coruscant

2005-06-13T18:33:00.000-07:00

Grumpy Moff here, sitting on a spiffy, not-so-comfortable shuttle on the way to Coruscant. It really doesn't make any sense why the Devastator crew is being sent in waves via shuttle over to Planet Big-Ass Building instead of us just hypering over there en masse, but whatever. I don't run the Empire, so obviously the Emperor knows more about managing infrastructure than I do.

I bet you're all wondering what happened with Officer Hot Stuff, huh? After all, she breathlessly dashed to my office while I unknowingly ran to relieve myself of the bladder-explosion pressures. Well, fate did manage to cross our paths again. This time, in the romantic ambience of the Devastator's main hanger bay. There's nothing that stirs the senses more than a fleet of TIE fighters docking and launching. EHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH go the TIE fighters (and new TIE bombers - technology rules!) as they fly by and suddenly, everyone's in the mood for love - we don't even have to dim the lights.

Anyways, I sought out Officer Hot Stuff because I was ceremoniously being kicked out of my office, thus thwarting her alleged plan to "come by tomorrow." I had to cut her off at the pass and visit her workplace. I've looked stupid in front of myself, my turbolaser crew, and complete strangers, but it would be a challenge not to look stupid in front of her crew.

As I approached, Officer Hot Stuff was busy directing (pointing and waving her arms in a very sensuous manner) hanger crew traffic and equipment. I stood politely off to the side a few feet, hoping that I would get her attention when she finished waving her arms. Instead, she decided to focus really intently on the new TIE bomber off to the left (I think she was trying to levitate it with her mind). Realizing that I looked like either a fool or a stalker standing 6 feet diagonally behind her not moving or saying anything, I gathered up the courage in the pit of my stomach and slowly marched forward.

By the time I was about two feet behind her, she still hadn't noticed. However, a new maintenance crew came driving by in their cart and she decided their appropriate route of traffic would be in my general area. To emphasize this method of traffic direction, she decided to unknowingly thrust her gloved Imperial finger into my left eye socket as I reached up to tap her on the shoulder.

"AAAHHHHHRRRRRRRGHHHH," I said in a very dignified manner. Officer Hot Stuff turned around and turned to see me hunched over with both hands covering my face and weird pain noises coming out of my mouth.

OHS: What are you doing here?

GM: Ahhhh...I uh...you came by my office earlier...but I was out...

OHS: No, I mean, what are you doing standing there? I'm directing traffic in the hanger bay. It's Imperial regulation to stay 10 feet away from me so you won't get run over by equipment carts, maintenance droids, or get stabbed in the eye when I'm telling people where to go.

GM: Oh, um, ow, ah, I didn't know that. I'm a turbolaser supervisor and...

OHS: Look, just stand really close to me and try not to get run over for the next 5 minutes. Just shut up and stay still and then we'll chat.

At this point, Officer Hot Stuff grabbed one of my hands and pulled me close to her. Really close to her. Like body-heat-shared-through-our-Imperial-uniforms close. Suddenly, the fact that my left eye is involuntarily shut and dripping tears doesn't matter. Officer Hot Stuff resumed waving her arms in a frantic manner as droids and carts rush by and the rumble of TIE fighter engines shake the floor. However, she carefully avoided swatting me in the face again.

I think she likes me.

The 5 minutes passed and all hanger bay traffic seems to stop other than the gut-shattering rumbles of TIE fighter engines. Small bits of light finally started to eek back through to my eye. Officer Hot Stuff turned to me and our conversation resumed.

OHS: So, I just wanted to thank you for letting me look at your Death Star plans. I found a problem with the hanger bay design in the section below the main gun and after reporting it, they're letting me do a temporary transfer there. I'm hoping to convince them to stay full time, but I'll be there for at least the next 6 months.

GM: Really?

OHS: Yup. I can't wait. I'm missing the Coruscant briefing because of the short notice, but I'll be there when everyone else boards. I hear they've got Galactic Championship-sized pools there - I can't wait to go swimming every day.

GM: (picturing OHS in a swim suit that's not fit for Galactic Championship swimming) Really?

OHS: Yeah, and a volleyball court. Didn't you read your plans? I think I'll sign up for a Death Star volleyball league.

GM: (wishing I brought my Devastator volleyball league championship trophy with me to the hanger bay) Really?

OHS: Yes. (she pauses while I stand there with my brain running in circles trying to come up with a brilliant response) Did I poke you in the eye really hard?

GM: Oh, um, no, it's cool. Doesn't hurt. Just having a hard time seeing, but it'll pass. No biggie.

OHS: Hmmm, I thought you suffered some damage, like I pushed your eye back into your brain. You seem to only be able to say the word 'really' to me.

GM: Really?

OHS: (a smirk of annoyance/'he's so cute when he's stupid' comes to her lips) Medic! Medic! We've got brain damage over here!

GM: Oh, wait, um, I'm cool. Everything's cool. Ha ha. Really? See, I made a joke about how I just said that cause you said that was all that I said and um...um...anyways...um...maybe when we get to the Death Star, we can join the same volleyball team. (her left eyebrow arches) I mean, cause we both play volleyball - did you know I played volleyball? Devastator champions two seasons running - and it'll be cool to play with people we know instead of just strangers, you know?

OHS: You mean, people like us who've had two conversations, a finger in the eye, and brain damage between us?

GM: Ummmmmm...yeah. Yeah, I mean, you're the only person on the Devastator who's poked me in the eye. That's gotta count for something, right?

OHS: (shrugs her shoulders and laughs) Heh, ok, look me up when you get on board. Now get out of here before the maintenance crew runs you over.

So now, as I sit on board this Imperial shuttle, my back aching from the 90 degree rigid angle of the passenger chair, my eye still a little swollen from being attacked, and my mind a little delirious from the very strange exit interview with Grand Moff Dabow (I'll talk about that later), all is ok. Because Officer Hot Stuff wants to play volleyball with the Grumpy Moff after we get to the "Death Star."

Yup, things are looking up. Off to Coruscant for a few meetings and some R&R, gonna go see the folks, maybe catch my sister at the Galactic Opera. Life is good.

Such a painful day in so many ways

2005-06-10T16:48:00.000-07:00

The Empire can be really inefficient with issues of infrastructure. All day, I waited for the Imperial technologies (IT) department to come and pack up my computer for movement to my new "Death Star" space - remember, they don't have offices there. Their specific instructions included deactivating the vid screen, comm system, and leaving the door wide open so IT's astromech droid could push the packing crates through and begin disassembly.

And of course, I have to be here for this to happen. Essentially, this means that I must stay in my offoffice with the door open (and look busy when someone walks by) with no computer, vid, or holo access. This must be what it was like to be a prisoner of war during the Clone Wars. During the day, I actually wish I had work to do so I could at least focus on something - anything! The IT department said they'd arrive between 8 AM and 5 PM and that my presence was required or they wouldn't start working.

I wonder if they do this when Vader's hyperbaric chamber malfunctions. "Excuse me Lord Vader, but you must be there from 8 AM to 5 PM. Otherwise, we won't be able to fix your motorized rotating chair. Yes, we are aware that this is a hassle, but we have a set queue and we must follow it. Standard Imperial policy."

Here's how my day went.

8:52 - Conted backwards from 100 n every language that I knew, balanced a pen across the bill of my Imperial officer cap, checked my teeth for any food stuck in from breakfast, and counted the number of tiles in my office ceiling (89). So far, so good. I also did not dwell upon the humiliating exchange with Officer Hot Stuff from two days ago. (writing this does not count.)

10:50 - Still no IT astromech or personnel. I'm getting a little hungry. 4 people have passed by my office since 9:00. No one has stopped to say hi.

12:20 - Still no sign. I wish I could call them to find out what was up, but I had to disconnect all means of communication. Is it cheating if I put it back together to make the call or would they throw me in the brig for breaking Imperial protocol? Sometimes, I wish we weren't such a structured community. My stomach is starting to growl.

1:30 - I really need to pee. How serious can they be about the "you must be present" rule? If I leave and they show up, will they take off and repeat the whole ordeal tomorrow?

1:36 - I have no cups in the office. Otherwise, I would have peed in one. It's that bad.

2:15 - A rancor has apprently nested itself in my stomach and decided to loudly complain about its environment. ROOOOOOAAAAAAARR goes the stomach.

2:45 - I have flagged down a passing officer to stand in my place while I either run to the toilet or run to the mess hall. He's got a meeting at 3, so I can't take too long. I must choose.

2:46 - Proximity has won. I choose the toilet because it is closer.

2:52 - Oh man. This is better than naked Twi'Leks hand feeding me fruit on the beaches of Dantooine. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh...

2:54 - I am saved! A vending machine is on my way back!

2:55 - It's not taking my credits. Bloody hell...

2:56 - Why won't you take my credits? WHY?!?!?!?

2:58 - I limp/run back to my office after kicking the vending machine several times. Bladder = good. Foot = possibly broken. Stomach = still rancor infested.

2:59 - Holy crap! Look who stopped by! The friendly officer holding my spot said,"Oh good, you're back. I have to go to my meeting now. IT didn't stop by, but a woman did. Redhead, I think she works in the hanger bay. She said she'd stop by tomorrow." That has just possibly made this all worth it. Then again, maybe not.

3:00 - Holy crap! I won't be in this office tomorrow. And I ship out the day after. I shouldn't have avoided our regular elevator trip together over the past two days - I knew breakfast couldn't have been that bad.

3:01 - Breakfast...mmm...food

3:58 - To pass the time, I shuffle through my papers in my desk drawer. There is half of a wrapped stale breakfast muffin. I eat it. The rancor is happy.

4:42 - IT finally arrives. The astromech droid rolls towards my computer, sticks out a socket, unlocks some stuff, and the IT guys pick up the computer and put it in the packing crate.

GM: "That's it? That's why you needed me here today?"

IT: "Yes sir. You must be here to sign the release form authorizing our movement of your computer to the Death Star."

GM: "Couldn't I have left you a note? I've been starving all day and I almost exploded from not going to the toilet."

IT: "No sir, this is how it works. Standard Imperial policy. If you wish to change it, you could start a petition and submit it to the Emperor. If he is willing to change the policy, you can have a private audience expressing your problems with your moving day."

GM: "Maybe I can get Vader to sign my petition. Have you guys worked on his hyperbaric chamber lately?"

IT: "That's in five days, between 8 AM and 5 PM."

Apparently, no one gets any slack - not even the ones with magic choking powers.

Well, my work is done on the Devastator. Tomorrow, I'll try to hunt down Officer Hot Stuff and see if she decided that she'd rather be infatuated with me than the "Death Star," play some pazaak with the turbolaser boys, and have my exit interview with Grand Moff Dabow.

Officer Hot Stuff is in love...

2005-06-08T17:51:00.000-07:00

She is in love! That's right Grumpy Moff fans, Officer Hot Stuff is in love. In fact, she declared it quite a few times over the course of our breakfast. Here's some of what she said:

"You're incredible! I wasn't expecting this size or strength!"

"I love you. I only wish I could spend more time with you..."

Now, just replace the "you" with "The Death Star" and you'll get a sense as to how the breakfast went. It involved its share of passionate glances, gentle stroking, and whispering sweet nothings. This would have been absolutely incredible if I was, in fact, a handheld holopad that projected "Death Star" technical plans. However, I'm not nearly that convenient to hold and the only projection I can provide is so random stuttering around Officer Hot Stuff, so things were not terribly exciting for me. Breakfast basically consisted of me intruding on Officer Hot Stuff's rather intimate exchange with the "Death Star" plans.

I would have felt more satisfied had I either slept in or ordered the pay-per-view holo of Slave Twi'Lek Love Camp Babes 4. In fact, either of those choices probably would have left me much more emotionally fulfilled than having been the third wheel beween my dream woman and a hologram of a planet-destroying space station.

After 30 minutes of this fiasco, Officer Hot Stuff had to leave for her hanger bay duties. Her eyes locked on to the holographic "Death Star" main gun as she said, "I wish I could be with you instead of here." The holographic "Death Star", hopeless romantic that it is, kept its dignity by maintaining a stoic silence. She switched off the holopad and held it in her hand for a moment, the leather of her gloves squeeking across the pad's metal base. This noise is generally very irritating, which is why I have taken to removing my Imperial issue gloves when examining the plans; however, it was a pleasant relief to hear something other than a sappy conversation between a beautiful hanger bay officer and a piece of metal.

Officer Hot Stuff stood up, handed me the holopad, and tugged her drab grey uniform straight to smooth out (and accentuate) the wrinkles in all its form-fitting glory. By this time, I was too dejected to even appreciate this sexy little gesture. She turned to leave, then took a step back and said, "Thanks for letting me check this baby out. I'll see you around," before lightly patting my shoulder and sauntering off to the mess hall elevator.

Now remember, this should have been a monumental nanosecond in my life - the first true physical contact between the Grumpy Moff and Officer Hot Stuff. Instead, I merely got up and walked to my office. The rest of the morning was spent contemplating how I could possible spin this to make me look cool when the turbolaser crew inevitable interrogated me about it.

*sigh*

Grumpy Moff = The Man!

2005-06-05T23:40:00.000-07:00

With less than a week left before leaving for the pre-"Death Star" briefings on Coruscant, I finally gathered the courage to talk to Officer Hot Stuff this morning. Granted, I've spoken to her but it doesn't really count when the conversation consists of one person shouting, "I...um...I'll see you tomorrow" as the other party is leaving an elevator. Nope, this was a full-on two people speaking dictionary definition of a conversation.

Here's the scene. I was waiting for Officer Hot Stuff to take elevator 3NS down to her station in the hanger bay. As usual, I was playing it cool - I had my turbolaser maintenance log with me to ensure that I was on "official Imperial business" (which, technically I was, but it always makes me look more important).

Officer Hot Stuff arrived a little later than she usually did which gave me the time to perfect what I was going to say. Because I'm just that smooth. Here's how the conversation went:

Officer Hot Stuff arrives. "Going down?"

Grumpy Moff (coolly, without any hesitation): "Always. I always like going down."

OHS (her left eyebrow raises and a smirk crosses her lips): "You like going down?"

GM: "Sure, I mean, who doesn't like going down? It's...um...it's always a fun time. I can go down on you anytime."

OHS: "You can go down on me? Shouldn't we have dinner first?"

GM (my brain slowly maneuvers into hyperdrive to cover up this verbal faux pas): "Oh...um...ha ha! I get it. You thought I meant...no, no, no, I would never go down on you...I mean...what I meant to say was that I like riding elevators down. Because they take you places. Places you need to go. Or be. Or both. You can go up too in an elevator. Sometimes. Depending on which button you push. "

At this point, my uniform collar feels like it's tighter than a Darth Vader choke grip after telling him that you think his breathing noise is really annoying.

OHS: "Gotcha. You like riding elevators but you won't go down on me. I'd hate to see what would happen if we ever got stuck in an elevator together. I'll make a mental note of it if the situation ever arises." (she chuckles slightly to herself and adjusts the Imperial cap covering her perfect mane of crimson hair)

Officer Hot Stuff pushes the down button on elevator 3NS. For the next four seconds, the Devastator appears to have been caught in some sort of temporal flux because I swear 3 hours of pure painful silence passed before the elevator door opened. She steps in and I suddenly feel an urge to inspect the maintenance report log in my hand, or look at my shoes, or count the number of rivets in the ceiling, or anything besides making eye contact with her. "You coming?" she asks.

GM: "Only if you're going down on me. With me. I'm coming...into the elevator...to go down. To ride the elevator down. I mean (deep sigh) I am going to step into the elevator and allow it to transport me to a lower level while standing next to you and not saying anything remotely stupid that could be interpreted as breaking the Imperial sexual harrassment policy because I'm really not that kind of guy. In fact, I'm a pretty good worker and normally quite articulate, it's just this instance..."

Officer Hot Stuff has the opportunity to push the close button on the elevator while my verbal vomit is flying all over the place. But she's way too cool for that. Instead, she simply laughs at my rambling and says, "Hey. It's cool. Get in the elevator before I kick your ass for sounding like Captain Stupid (she didn't call him Captain Stupid, but you get the idea)."

My words stop faster than a speeder bike running into a building. "You hate Captain Stupid too?"

OHS: "Oh yeah, he's the most annoying person on the Devastator. At least you're just babbling to cover up your stupid mistakes. He just babbles cause he's an idiot." Her forehead wrinkles and a sly grin spreads across her lips. "Well, I suppose in this case, you're both idiots. But he's a different kind, much more annoying. You're more of a clumsy idiot."

GM: "Oh, don't get me started on Captain Stupid. He borrowed my Death Star plans and it took..."

Officer Hot Stuff's demeanor completely changes. Her shoulders straighten up and her eyes focus on me with a clarity that I've never felt. This is either the greatest moment of my life or the worst - I can't tell yet. "You're transferring to the Death Star?"

GM: "Oh yeah, I leave in 6 days. Well, we're going to Coruscant first for a briefing with the Emperor and Tarkin and some other higher-ups, but yeah, then I'll be section 2197's turbolaser maintenance supervisor. (shrugs shoulders) I guess I got lucky. I'll miss the Devastator though."

OHS: "I've been begging to transfer to the Death Star. It's a fascinating piece of technology. Even if that moron Vader is going to be there."

Before I can comment on her ballsy insult of Vader, she steps forward. The elevator, sensing the loss of weight without any passengers, closes up its doors. "Do you think I could get a look at the Death Star plans? Just a peek, maybe over breakfast or something?"

This is now the defining moment of my life. Officer Hot Stuff has asked to spend time with me! Well, actually, she wants to spend time with my Death Star plans, but they're my plans, and that means that she will have to be in my presence as she checks them out.

GM: "Yes."

There is another one of those awkward pauses caused by my verbal brilliance.

OHS: "Yes...I can look at your Death Star plans, maybe over breakfast or something?"

GM: "Yes, how about over breakfast tomorrow. That'd be great. I might even go down on you (I say this half joking, half wishing, half getting ready to sell my soul to the Jedi or the Hutts or whoever else may have the wacky power to make this real. Unfortunately, she doesn't laugh at my joke. In fact, I think it creeps her out a little bit as her eyes shuffle from left to right). Ha ha. Just kidding. You know, cause we had our little misunderstanding before and um...oh, never mind."

OHS (shaking her head - I can't tell if this is amusement, irritation, or just plain disgust at my complete lack of tact): "Tomorrow morning. I'll drop by your quarters at 0600 hours?"

GM: "Yes! Yes. That sounds good. Tomorrow morning. I'll make a note of it."

OHS: "Good." She pushes the down button on the elevator and the doors open again. "Going down?"

This time, I simply nod my head and step inside. I don't say a word for the entire elevator ride, not even my customary "See you tomorrow!" that I try to throw in during elevator rides with her. Instead, I let her step out on her stop, punch my stop, and let the loudest howls of joy that the galaxy has ever known accompany me on the journey up.

Yesterday, I was just a Grumpy Moff. Today, I am the MAN!

WELCOME (to the) DEATH (star)

2005-06-04T00:30:00.000-07:00

Now that I've got my "Death Star" plans back from Captain Stupid, I finally opened up the "So you're transferring to the 'Death Star'" package that the higher-ups sent me. I was greeted with the following cheery phrase on the welcome booklet:

WELCOME
to the
DEATH
Star

Either the designer is really clueless or the Emperor has very poorly attempted to incorporate subliminal messages into Empire documentation.

The rest of the booklet isn't quite as rattling as the cover page's invitation to death. In fact, it sounds downright upbeat - like the Academy dorms, except with a gigantic planet-destroying gun in one quadrant. Here's an excerpt from the "We're All One Big Death Star Family" chapter:

When you come aboard the Death Star, you join the Imperial team in guarding peace and justice in the galaxy. We want you to feel as welcome here as you do on your home system - because the Death Star is your home away from home for the duration of your stay. Pets (non-shedding and non-poisonous) are welcome as long as you assume all responsibilities for feeding, potty, and play time. Don't bring your animal friends on board the Death Star if you feel you will not have time to be a devoted owner - that's not fair to the pet or to you. Pets are part of the Death Star family, and if they're not happy, then we can't be the best galaxy-defending team that we can be.

Please note that the Death Star is a non-deathstick facility. If you wish to enjoy deathsticks, please do so in the alloted areas in the hanger bay.

It definitely sounds like the Empire spent their budget on this station. There's a lot of cool stuff around - heck, it almost sounds like a vacation! Here's an excerpt from the "Life in Death: Entertainment on the Death Star" chapter:

Your daily life on the Death Star should be a combination of work and fun. We encourage you to mix the two together - in fact, nothing would please the Emperor more than dedicated Death Star workers who enjoy what they do. On the Death Star, you'll be able to relax in our massage/spa parlor, race in the Galactic Championship length swimming pools, join aerobic dance classes, or meet some new friends over a friendly game of Pazaak. Weekly exercise classes and intra-station sports leagues are now forming. If you would like more information about these, contact your section's activities coordinator.

The Emperor has spared no expense in constructing the Death Star and that includes the mess hall. From breakfast buffets to three-course dinners, it's only the best food for the best of the Empire's employees. Your menu changes every day - watch out for upcoming specialty nights as we hyperspace in some of the best guest chefs in the galaxy. Menus are available a month in advance and can be found posted on the vid screen outside of your section's mess hall.

Need some time to unwind after destroying a planet or defending the galaxy from Rebels? Come on down to the Death Splash Pub & Grill for a drink and a bite of home cookin'! The Death Splash has 23 vid screens and 10 holo projectors to watch all of the latest sports and entertainment across the galaxy. It's also got the latest in interactive entertainment. Ever wanted to be a pod racer? Hop on into the Death Splash's simulator. How about experiencing the excitement of the old Sith days? Play "Sith Conquerer" or any of our other free-play holo and video games. Games will be updated and rotated around the station on a regular basis.

The Death Star shopping concourse also has the following amenities:

Haircuts
Library
Arboretum
Gift shop

If it sounds like the Death Star has all of the fun stuff you'd find in a major city, then we've done our job. The Death Star is much bigger than most cities - it's even bigger than some moons! Because of that, the Empire has gone the distance to make sure that everyone's stay here is as enjoyable as possible. The Empire knows that happy workers make for productive workers.

I'm going to miss my friends on the Devastator crew, but I can certainly get used to living like this!

Wait a second...

2005-06-03T00:31:00.000-07:00

What the hell was Captain Stupid doing talking with his mom in his underwear, anyways?

Maybe the ventilation fan was busted in his quarters. Yeah. I'll just leave it at that.

Captain Stupid Part 2

2005-06-02T23:29:00.000-07:00

One week to go before flying out to Coruscant for the “Death Star” briefings. I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t start calling myself Captain Stupid instead of letting the title sit with its current owner. He still hasn’t returned the plans to me, which I knew would happen. I’m supposed to be studying the technical layout of the freakin’ turbolaser units in my department and instead the plans are with the most annoying person on the Devastator.

After I checked out of the office today, I moseyed over to Captain Stupid’s quarters. He hasn’t returned any of my vid screen messages, so the smartest option seemed to be prying the plans out of his cold, stupid, stupid hands.

Before I can hit the visitor button on his door, it swings open and I am greeted by a shirtless, pantsless (but not underwearless) Captain Stupid. He’s surprisingly fit for being so, well, stupid. In fact, he’s shockingly fit – I am extremely disturbed by the fact that his forearm muscle appears to be bigger than my entire head. It must be true what they say about these Imperial uniforms – the drab gray DOES have a slimming effect.

I am also disturbed by the fact that I’m disturbed more about Captain Stupid’s muscle tone instead of the fact that he’s standing with just a thin piece of fabric guarding his loins.

Captain Stupid seems shocked to see me. “Oh, um, hey Grumpy Moff. What are you doing here?” he asks in an atypically wavering voice.

“Look, I really gotta get my plans back. I need to start studying the station layout before I ship out,” I say, stretching my neck to look behind Captain Stupid’s chiseled pecs. “Hey, is that it right there on your desk? Are you transmitting it to someone?”

Captain Stupid cocks his head awkwardly and purses his lips. “All right, all right, you got me. I’m a Rebel spy.”

“What?”

“AAAAAAAAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I fooled you for a second, didn’t I? Yeah, yeah, I got my mom on the vid screen phone right now. I was just so excited about the plans, I mean have you seen the size of the station? I was counting the turbolaser turrets – it turns out there’s exactly 5,262 units on there. My mom’s an ex-contract designer so when I told her about the design, she got really excited – she’s more excitable than I am, if you can believe that. I had to show her, she gets really jealous about stuff like this and I’m not even going on the mission – “

“Captain Stupid, you can’t send the plans out to anyone, not even your mom. The Emperor will kill you – and me! And I’ve heard the Emperor’s surprisingly strong despite his appearance.”

“Grumpy Moff, get that bantha out of your ass! It’s just my mom. I told you she’s a designer – she’s just looking at this from an architectural point of view. She teaches a course in design and I’m sure she’d love to share some of the design tips she’s learned from this to her students. Hey, maybe then can even have you come in as a guest speaker, whadaya think? You can tell them all about turbolaser…”

Deep breath, I tell myself. “Um, yeah, that sounds great. Can I get my plans back NOW?”

Captain Stupid’s eyes shift around for a few moments. I think I can see the wheels in his head slowly grinding out my request before bursting into hyperspace. “Sure, sure. Just, um, ah, come on in. MA! MA! It’s the turbolaser maintenance guy I told you about! Remember, the one that I got the plans from! I was just –“

I shove Captain Stupid out of the way (this takes way more physical effort than I could have possibly imagined), step through a disastrously messy living space, and work my way to the vid screen and my precious “Death Star” plans sitting in front of it. “Mrs. Captain Stupid, I’m sorry to take this back on such short notice, but I need these plans back. I hope it doesn’t disappoint your students too much.”

Mrs. Stupid glances at Captain Stupid and then focuses back on me. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

I shut off the holopad and stuff it back into my pocket, secure in the knowledge that I’ll never have to deal with Captain Stupid again after a week. “Well, um, have a good day out there on…uh…”

“Alderaan.”

“Yeah, Alderaan. Have a nice day on Alderaan.”

I hop scotch over a pile of uniforms here, some papers there, and manage to ungracefully knock over a vid frame holding a photo of Captain Stupid and Alderaan’s hot young female senator, causing the image to static up and transform into nothing more than a series of horizontal lines and the floating video head of Captain Stupid. I turn back to the vid screen and say, “Mrs. Stupid, you should really encourage your son to be more clean.”

“Oh yes, that’s something we’ll discuss. Thank you for thinking about my dear Captain Stupid, young man.”

“Whatever,” I mumble under my breath as I leap over another stack of papers and fall out of the room. At least I won’t have to deal with any Stupid or Stupid-related people when I get to the “Death Star.”

I’ll begin reviewing the plans tomorrow. I need a Corellian ale right now.

Grumpy kids become grumpy moffs

2005-06-01T12:50:00.000-07:00

Even after graduating the Academy, getting a well-paid position on a Star Destroyer, and being one of the elite few to transfer to the "Death Star," some things just aren't good enough for the Grumpy Moff's parents.

What do they want me to do? Become the Emperor?

I hadn't told my parents about the "Death Star" transfer yet, so I contacted them on their Coruscant home. Contrary to popular opinion, Coruscant is not just one gigantic city. If that were the case, you'd never be able to mail anything anywhere. There are actually hosts of suburbs and districts litering the surface. My folks live in the Lightport district, about 200 miles west of the capital building and senate chambers. They're your typical middle-class Coruscanti folks - 2 speeders, a four bedroom home, three kids, one of which is a grumpy underachiever in their eyes.

Anyways, yesterday I contacted them on the vid screen to tell them the big news.

Grumpy Moff: Hey guys, I have some exciting news!

Mom: Oh, I knew it! He's finally got a girlfriend! How long has it been since Portisa left you, three years?

Dad: She better make a good living. You know the Empire pension fund isn't that great. You gotta look to the future.

Mom: Don't listen to your father. As long as she loves you, that's all you need. She wants children, right?

Dad: How'd you meet her wearing those Imperial uniforms? Is she colorblind or something?

Mom: Stop that. I'm sure she's a perfectly nice girl. So, Grumpy Moff, how did you meet her? Is she on your ship?

GM: Umm...actually, I haven't met anyone. I've been really busy at work. You know, keeping up the turbolaser crew on the ship. I've got other big news.

Dad: I knew it, you're just shuffling around again. Don't you want to do something with your life? Look at your brother. Regional governor in the middle rim, married, two kids. And your sister, she's one of the top performers at the Galactic Opera by the Senate. In fact, we just met her boyfriend - have you seen that show "Investigation Troop Squad" on the HoloNet? He plays...

GM: Mom! Dad! I don't care what Grumpy Sister or Grumpy Brother are up to. I have big news! I'm getting transferred to the new space station. I'll be back home for a few days for some meetings with the Emperor and Grand Moff Tarkin, then we're shipping back out.

Mom: Space station? Is that safe with all of those Rebel attacks going on?

Dad: Sounds kind of fishy to me. Probably putting the galactic scrubs on there just in case it gets blown up. I wouldn't put up with that kind of crap if I were you. You're too good at turbolaser maintenance to...

GM: No, no, no. This is a promotion. Only the best of the best get to be on the station. Grand Moff Tarkin and Darth Vader are going to be spending a lot of time on it.

Dad: Promotion, huh? Are you getting a raise?

GM: Um...no.

Dad: Are you getting a bigger office?

GM: Uh, actually, see, the Emperor has this idea about getting rid of offices for group morale...

Dad: Are you getting a shuttle or more crew under you?

GM: (sighs) No dad, I'm not.

Dad: Then they're using you again. You should have gotten into politics like your brother.

Mom: (eyes widen with recognition) Oh! This isn't the Death Moon I've heard about, is it?

GM: Death Star, mom. Death. Star. Yes it is, and I think the name is stupid, so I don't call it that.

Mom: (her face falls and her eyebrows turn into a river of knotted crinkles) Oh my. Death Star. Oh my, that sounds very dangerous. Very, very dangerous. I've heard about this on the HoloNet news. They say the Rebels will probably try and attack it - there's even rumors of spies trying to get the technical plans for it. (she puts her head in her hands) Oh, Grumpy Moff, why did you have to join the military? Why couldn't you be like your brother or your sister?

GM: Mom, I'm not in the military. I do maintenance checks and supervision.

Dad: Those Rebel bastards are gonna blow you up. You should stay on that ship. Better yet, transfer to Coruscant. You can stay with us, your bedroom is clean and we've still got...

Mom: Yes, yes! Transfer home! The Sausgolds have a very nice daughter who works at the Great Muse Bank down the road. She's just a tad younger than you and could stand to exercise a tiny bit more, but she's really a darling...

GM: (pretending to hear something in the background) What's that? Oh, leak in the main turbolaser unit? Oh, I'll be there right away. (turns back to vid screen) Mom, dad, I gotta go. I'll see you in a few weeks when I come to Coruscant, ok?

Mom: Leak in the turbolaser unit? Make sure you wear your radiation...(I snap off the vid screen before she finishes the sentence)

This is my life. My parents want me to move in with them and marry a banker, my pazaak playing buddies are staying on the Devastator, I can't muster two words to Officer Hot Stuff, and I can't locate Captain Stupid to get my damn "Death Star" plans back.

And that, my friends, is why I am a Grumpy Moff.

The Grumpy Moff Routine (or Why Having a Star Destroyer Office Rules)

2005-05-31T18:04:00.000-07:00

I've heard that on the "Death Star," the Emperor is trying a new motivational tactic of removing any offices and using only work stations. This will supposedly improve Imperial morale by showing that we are all on the same level instead of divided up by supervisors and workers.

This sucks bantha balls and will totally destroy my routine.

My office is your typical Star Destroyer working cavern. It's about 8 feet by 10 feet with dark grey walls and a heavy black door that squeaks more than it whooshes when it opens. It's also got a big black desk that was originally situated with my back (and thus, my computer and holo-pad viewers) to the entryway. In other words, people could see when I was goofing off right when they came in. This was not cool, especially when my buddies would send me the latest pod race holo-vids.

With the help of a surprisingly strong astromech droid (and one memory wipe later), I stealthily repositioned the desk so that no one can see my view screen but me. I also got the astromech to remove the holo viewer to make it mobile. Most of the time, it's by my feet.

Over the past few years, I have streamlined my daily routine to an exact science. A typical Grumpy Moff day goes like this:

8 AM - 10:00 AM: Come into office. Check messages. Open up any cool holos sent by friends and family. Watch holonet news, catch up on latest discussion on Hutt In A Rutt (my favorite comedy show on the holonet), and see the latest sports scores from across the inner quadrant.

10:00 AM - 10:30 AM: File my daily maintenance reports from the previous day's checks.

10:30 AM - 10:45 AM: Take my note tablet to go on the daily turbolaser maintenance and performance checks. Wait at elevator 3NS until Officer Hot Stuff arrives to go to her hanger bay. Take the elevator down 10 floors with her while giving nervously charming smiles, expertly timed eye contact, and ear-catching rhythms tapped by my thumbs on the note tablet. Say nothing until she the elevator stops, then exclaim, "See you tomorrow" as she steps out of the door.

10:45 AM - 10:50 AM: Take elevator 3NS up 12 floors to begin daily checks.

10:50 AM - 11:00 AM: Complete analysis of my section's turbolaser efficiency, targeting accuracy, and volume output.

11:00 AM - 12:00 PM: Complain to anyone who will listen about my complete lack of ability to speak around Officer Hot Stuff.

12:00 PM - 1:30 PM: Go to Devastator mess hall and try to avoid Captain Stupid and other annoying people. Sometimes lose 500 credits in lunchtime pazaak tournament held by Commander Minigrey.

1:30 PM - 3:00 PM: Return to office. Check messages. Open up any cool holos sent by friends and family. Watch holonet news, catch up on latest discussion on Hutt In A Rutt (my favorite comedy show on the holonet), and see the latest sports scores from across the inner quadrant.

3:00 PM - 4:00 PM: Contact individual station workers and remind them that I need their daily performance checks sent to me by the end of the day so I can file reports tomorrow morning. Complain more about Officer Hot Stuff if the worker is in a sympathetic mood.

4:00 PM - 5:00 PM: Check batteries on my note tablets. Go to the bathroom to get water for my two plants. Give plants water. Call up buddies to see if anyone has any plans for the evening. If time permits, practice pazaak on my computer's simulator.

Some people say that I'm really lazy and only really work for maybe 20% of the time I am here. I say they're wrong; in fact, I have become so good at what I do, that I am able to do it in the minimal amount of time possible. This allows me to explore my other interests and keep a generally upbeat attitude during the rest of the day - which rubs off on the people I supervise, making them work better and happier.

All of this is possible because I have an office. Why would the Empire want to transfer me to a position where I couldn't nearly be as efficient?

Officer Hot Stuff - A Grumpy Moff's Dream

2005-05-30T23:22:00.000-07:00

Preparing to leave the Devastator means trying to tie up any loose ends that may be remaining. At this point, that includes getting my "Death Star" plans back from Captain Stupid, but there's also several other issues to take care of.

You see, your favorite Grumpy Moff has a crush on someone. And despite having all the power of the Empire behind me (ok, well, not ALL of the power, but at least the 30 or so people I command), I was never able to talk with said crush. For the sake of anonymity, I'll call her Officer Hot Stuff.

What can I say about Officer Hot Stuff? She makes the drab grey of the Imperial uniform look more sexy than Coruscant's top model bathing in the luminous waters of Dantooine. She looks soft and smooth, but she's got an edge like sand - and she doesn't take crap from anyone, not even Vader. Yes sir, the only thing that burns brighter than her straight red hair is her wit. She's not afraid to call a spade a spade, and I'm certain she has a swagger in her walk just to drive Grumpy Moffs all over nuts.

My favorite Officer Hot Stuff moment was when a certain Lord Vader was dropping by the Devastator to deliver some stuff and perform one of his routine "I'm gonna scare the poop out of each ship in the fleet one by one" check ups. Officer Hot Stuff, who manages one of the docking crews in the main hanger bay, was part of the group receiving Vader's shuttle. As customary, she was standing with part of her crew to welcome the Dark Respirator of Doom as he stepped onto the Devastator.

The shuttle touched down with a satisfying THUNK and all of the dramatic looking steam from the lowering landing platform gave Vader a seriously cool looking entrance (I bet the Emperor probably ordered the Imperial shuttles with this thought in mind - he's all about intimidation). Vader marches off the shuttle and Officer Hot Stuff gives him the appropriate Imperial salute.

Officer Hot Stuff: Welcome Lord Vader. We are honored by your presence.

Vader: Dispense with the pleasantries, Officer Hot Stuff (obviously he didn't call her that, but try imagining Vader saying that - I guarantee you'll chuckle). We know why I'm here.

OH: No Lord Vader, I'm afraid I'm unsure as to why you've arrived. I'm assuming it's your standard inspection of the Devastator's bridge crew as we pass by Coruscant.

V: Officer Hot Stuff, I would advise you to listen to your communications more thoroughly. I am here to deliver detailed plans of the Death Star to all transferring crew members. These plans are of the utmost security and the Emperor has personally asked me to see they reach each crew member safely. (Vader stops) Where are the supplies I requested?

OH: (her left eyebrow slowly raises to make a neat arc over her clear blue eye. This is the point where most of us would be peeing our pants) What supplies?

V: The supplies I requested in the last transmission. The holopad units necessary for transferring the Death Star plans to the crew members. Have you failed to prepare these?

OH: My lord, you never requested your supplies.

V: I find your failure of recall disturbing.

OH: (a small smirk spreads over her lips) No, my lord. I'm sorry, I'll punch up your last transmission, you'll see that you never made such a request. You just told us that you'd be flying in.

V: Officer Hot Stuff, I will not tolerate insubordination or incompetance. You will explain to me why you have not produced the supplies I have requested.

OH: (smirk turns into irritated grin) Lord. Vader. You. Never. Asked. For. Those. Supplies. (Vader raises his hand) Oh what, you're gonna choke me? I know you're game. Just because you forgot to tell me something doesn't mean you have to act like some whiny little brat who doesn't get his way. (in a low Vader voice while making respirator noises) "I CANNOT EVER ADMIT THAT I AM WRONG. EVEN THOUGH I NEVER REQUESTED THE SUPPLIES (pauses to breath) AND THE HOLO-MESSAGE OVER THERE WILL PROVE THIS, I'M STILL (cough cough) GOING TO CHOKE EVERYONE ON THIS SHIP (more breathing) CAUSE I WANT MY WAY. I'M NOT A BRAT. (more breathing) I'M NOT I'M NOT I'M NOT."

The maintenance bay sits in absolute stunned silence. Vader is not moving and half the crew is grinning from ear to ear and the other half is paler than a jump to lightspeed. Officer Hot Stuff swaggers her perfectly formed butt over to the communications station and presses a button. A holo of Vader appears.

Holo-Vader: Devastator crew. Prepare for my arrival in four hours. Have a team ready to greet me. (off screen there is some talking and Vader turns his head and pauses before turning back) Make sure you are ready for my arrival.

The holo fades and Officer Hot Stuff tosses her crimson mane back. Vader looks at her, then the comm station, then back to her.

OH: You see, Lord Vader, you never asked for those supplies. You must have gotten distracted during the transmission.

V: Oh...(long pause as all we hear is his breathing. He looks at the bay captain who gives him a panicked shrug of the shoulders, then back at Officer Hot Stuff)

OH: Well? Are you going to apologize? Or are you still some CHILD (said with proper emphasis) who can't admit that he made a mistake and has to choke people instead of saying I'm sorry?

V: (another respirator pause) I am...um...I was...ah...

OH: Wrong?

V: Yes. (Vader tilts his head slightly downward and the echos of his respirator fill the entire landing bay)

OH: Very good, Lord Vader. We will have the supplies prepared for you as soon as possible.

No living organism in the galaxy, let alone the Devastator would have the balls (or female equivalent of) to say that to Darth Vader. You see why I'm smitten? Not only is she gorgeous, she's brilliant and witty. And I'm totally afraid to even say a peep to her because I don't want to be humiliated. I mean, if she can verbally undress a magic-choking guy in a big black helmet, imagine what she can do to just a single Grumpy Moff!

But I'm running out of time to gather up my courage. The Devastator could be shipped out to the outer rim and I may not see Officer Hot Stuff for years. Now's the time.

I can do this. I know I can.

Captain Stupid

2005-05-29T15:36:00.000-07:00

People can be so stupid at times.

It was a typical morning at the Devastator mess hall. I like to sleep in, especially before big days, which means that breakfast is usually fast and furious. Since I'm one of those selected to begin working aboard the "Death Star" (and damn it, I'm gonna put that name in quotes for the eternity because I still think it's a dumb name), I've been given the detailed plans on a holo-pad. It's like a welcome guide to the station, since it's really really ridiculously big and it's easy to get lost in it.

Anyways, so I'm scarfing down my food while analyzing the "Death Star" plans. You know, just minding my own business and trying to figure out the important things are in relation to my station and my quarters: mess hall, toilets, gym, Imperial vending machines, etc. I'm lost in thought while trying to figure out how long it will take me to actually walk from my quarters near the butt-end of the trench to my post just under the main gun when I get accosted by Captain Stupid, who annoys the crap out of me.

(Note: Captain Stupid is neither a captain, nor is Stupid his real name. He's just an annoying guy who's ALWAYS asking questions. I mean, you'd think he'd never seen a schematic before, and he forgets information all the time - always asking and writing stuff down. Sheesh.)

Captain Stupid: Hey Grumpy Moff, whatcha got there?

Grumpy Moff: (clicking off holo-pad) Oh, um, nothing. Just a personal message from my mom.

CS: Oh come on, that was the Death Star, huh? Man, I want to work on that thing. I mean, it's so cool! Blows up entire planets! No one's gonna mess with us when that thing goes operational. I can't believe I wasn't selected to go to the Death Star. Oh well, I figured they need the best of the best out here patrolling on the Star Destroyers. You know, we gotta roam around to make sure there's no Rebel operations flying by to attack the Death Star. I mean, it holds all sorts of Tie Fighters and stuff, but still, it isn't very agile, know what I mean?

GM: Uh huh.

CS: (sitting down next to me) You know what I'd do if I was the Emperor? I'd put the Death Star in the middle of 500 Star Destroyers, like a planetary ring of ships. That way, no one would ever be able to get through to touch it - not even a small fighter. It's be like a wall of Death and Destroyers? Get it? Get it? Hahahahahahaha (laughs maniacally like a castrated Wookiee caught in lightspeed)

GM: Uh huh (starts shovelling breakfast in mouth faster).

CS: Hey, turn that back on, I wanna see something.

GM: No.

CS: Come on! Jeez, don't you trust me? I just wanna see!

GM: No.

CS: Man, why do you gotta be all secretive, huh? We're all Imperials here. If I had the plans, I wouldn't jerk you around by looking at it in the mess hall and then hiding it. I mean, geez, you think you're all high and mighty now that you're going to the all-powerful Death Star, what you can't even show a your buddy?

GM: Fine, fine. But not too long. (snaps on the holo-pad) I really gotta go do this maintenance check on the...

CS: Holy crap! Look at the docking bay on that? How many Tie Fighters do you think it can hold?

GM: Um...I dunno, I mean there's a lot of...

CS: Whoa, look at that! I didn't know they had turbolasers on the surface too! I just thought it was one big gun, you know, like a galactic boob with a nipple that fired planet-destroying milk. How many turbolasers does it have?

GM: I haven't really counted, but...

CS: Hey, hey, can you zoom in here? This trench looks super cool! Can you imagine flying down this? Now that's living dangerously! There's some more turbolasers in the trench too. Wow!

GM: Look, I really gotta go...

CS: Ah dude, come on! I don't get to look at these things! Just lemme check it out for one more second. Look, here's the holding cell. Why would they put that there? Wouldn't it make more sense to...

GM: Look, Captain Stupid, I've really gotta go do this maintenance check. How about you borrow the plans for today and just drop it back off on my mail slot later today? You can analyze it all you want.

CS: Holy crap! You'd let me borrow that? That would be totally awesome. I mean, some day I hope to get transferred to it, but until then, I'd love to check out the technical data on it. I mean, you know me - always gotta be learning and looking around. It's a blessing and a curse - I know all sorts of data, but it's never enough. I've got such a voracious appetite for knowledge. You know, my mom always said that I'd be perfect for the Academy because...

GM: (switches off holopad) Here, take it. Just give it back to me later today, ok?

CS: Sure, sure, not a problem, not a problem. Man! I wonder how solidly the Geonosians designed this way back when. Did you know this design dates back to the Clone Wars? I heard the Republic had this deal with the...

GM: (stuffs all remaining food in mouth) I gotta go.

As you can see, Captain Stupid is one of the most annoying people on the Devastator and I will not miss him one bit. He seems to be prone to bad luck too - he's always digging into stuff and then somehow, the Rebels later attack whatever he's been reading up on. Hopefully, they kill him one of these days.

The way we were

2005-05-28T19:38:00.000-07:00

So it's really started to hit me that I'll be leaving my buddies on this Star Destroyer. I've done an informal poll of who's coming with me to the "Death Star" and it looks like most of the cool folks here are staying aboard the ship. That means that we won't get to party during the pre-boarding meetings on Coruscant.

I've been reflecting on the real sense of comraderie that we've had on the Devastator. I've served on a few outposts and some Star Destroyers, but no crew as a whole gets along like we do. Whether it's shooting down Rebel ships, talking with local governors about their crappy law enforcement, or just hanging out, the Devastator gang rocks - especially Grand Moff Dabow.

Dabow's a cool dude. I mean, most Moffs are strictly business, and that's really annoying. But Dabow's got a sense of humor and can take a good practical joke. He also LOVES interrogations, and HATES doing audio-only transmissions (he's paranoid that they're making fun of him in the background). My favorite one was an elaborate gag by the crew where we faked intercepting a Rebel transmission (mad props go to Colonol Soxfore for playing the part of the Rebel ship). Dabow broke through the signal, we told him we had their ship in the tractor beam, and he started interrogating the "Rebel" about secret bases, plans, etc. So Dabow's getting into a groove, really laying on threats about sending squads out, turning the ship to the Emperor, etc, and the "Rebel" is just giving up information left and right. Mr. Rebel, however, refuses to go to visual communication, it's just a staticy audio feed. Dabow is getting really mad - he's got all this great information, but he NEEDS to see a face for his interception to be triumphant. He starts berating, swearing, yelling at the "Rebel" about not being a coward, showing his face, and so on.

Finally, after about 20 minutes of this back and forth, the "Rebel" cracks and agrees to go to visual. Dabow, in all his predictable glory, orders the visual to go across every station so the entire ship can see his prize.

The screen flickers...and immediately goes to a video of two Hutts in the middle of a slimy mating ritual set to the popular song "Big Guns and Twi'Lek Tail (Is All I Need)" by the Castle Brown Quartet. There's tails and tongues and slime and things that people shouldn't see.

The entire Devastator shakes with laughter (since 95% of the crew was in on the joke) and applause. Dabow's face drains of color, his lower lip drops ever so slightly, and his hands clench to fists so tight that his black gloves appear to be bursting at the seams. The vein on his neck is pulsating so fast, you'd think Vader's doing one of his asshole chokeholds.

After a few minutes of remaining motionless, the bridge crew finally settles down. Dabow still hasn't said a word or moved a muscle. A few whispers go around - could he be really pissed off? Could he report the crew to the Emperor - or worse, Vader?

Dabow lowers his head and covers his face in his hands. All we can see is the bridge lights lightly deflecting off his smoothly shaved skull. His shoulders shake and his head starts to nod. A low sound emmanates from his gut, like a Rancor trying to break through a collapsing cave. Finally, the noise comes through...

"You BASTARDS! You really got me this time, didn't you?" Dabow roars with laughter. The whole crew applauds and Captain Sakmarsh walks up the bridge ramp and puts his arm around Dabow. Dabow's laughing so hard that he can hardly stand up, his face is pressed into Sakmarsh's uniform. Someone hits play on the transmission and we're all subject to the Huttese mating ritual again, to the collective groan of the thousands of people on the Devastator.

And that's the stuff I'm gonna miss. People say the Empire is humorless, but that's cause the Emperor only has Vader and Tarkin present during his holonet press junkets. If they got to know the crew of the Devastator, they'd know that being in the Empire can really kick ass sometimes.

Woo hoo! Coruscant vacation!

2005-05-27T17:03:00.000-07:00

Turns out that we get to hang out on Coruscant for a few days before shipping off to the "Death Star."

I'm gonna go get me some Twi'lek action! Better stock up on the deathsticks while I'm there too.

Word has it that the Emperor himself will be at the big meeting before we board the "Death Star." I bet he'll have some typically cheerful words of wisdom. You know, I never understood why he doesn't go to a Bacta resort to liven up that skin of his. I heard someone compare his complexion to the ass of a female Hutt the other day. Needless to say, I stepped far away from the brave soul who said that.

Packing up

2005-05-27T15:22:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a fun three years on the Star Destroyer Devastator, but times change and people move on. I've been commissioned, along with several thousand other Imperialites, to begin staffing the new space station. Yes, I've heard the scuttlebutt that the "official" name is "Death Star." You know what? That's just a stupid name. How can it drive fear into the hearts of star systems when it doesn't make any sense?

Honestly, I think the Rebels will laugh when they hear this name. "Death Star, oooo, I'm so scared by the big mean Imperials who use metaphors so clunky they bash you over the head with it."

If we're going by traditional Imperial naming conventions, it should either be a self-descriptive noun combined with an adjective or an acronym.

How about Death S.T.A.R (Station Targeting All Rebels), like T.I.E. Fighters (or the new T.I.E. Interceptors)?
Or Fear Station? Isn't that the equivalent of Imperial Shuttle?

You know what they should have done? Hired the best writers in Coruscant to come up with a name.

The one exception to this rule is Star Destroyer. It's still kind of a weak metaphor, but it has a nice ring to it. Star Destroyer, as in "one who destroys stars." Now, these ships don't actually destroy stars per se, but we do blow lots of stuff up, either through our turbolasers or our fleets of Tie Fighters. Hence, the name fits. But this station is supposed to be a number of things - a station, a giant floating gun, the place where the Imperial Life Day party is held. Seriously, who wants to go to the company Life Day party at a place called the "Death Star"? That just takes all the fun out of it.

But I digress. I suppose I'm not as clever as Vader (rumor has it, he came up with the name - hey Darth, you're not the most eloquent person and you sure throw hissy fits when you don't get your way), but I'd pick a name that was more elegant.

In any case, we will be hyperspaced over to the "Death Star" in two weeks. I gotta start packing my things up and taking holo-pics of my buddies. Good times, good times.

We are live!

2005-05-27T13:40:00.000-07:00

Just call me the Grumpy Moff - another hard-working member of the Galactic Empire who gets a little frustrated from time to time. Yeah, I'll be blowing off some steam here, but I'll also tell you like it is. Rebel scum will tell you that the Empire sucks. You know what? There's certainly things that I don't like about it. Tarkin can be a real dick at times, and Vader has absolutely NO sense of humor whatsoever (at least none that I've seen). Still, the benefits are great and the pay is pretty good. Better than slogging away at a cantina on Coruscant or mining in the Outer Rim, that's for sure. Plus, the gym facilities in Star Destroyers are absolutely awesome.

I plan to remain anonymous, since I don't want a certain black helmet choking the crap out of me if I say the wrong thing. That's what Astromech droids and transmission scramblings are made for. I can promise that you'll get the truth from me - if certain officers are being jerks or if the food starts sucking or if Vader does something really stupid, I'll be the first to tell you.

Think of me as you gossip monger for the Empire and the voice of the Imperial worker. Someone's gotta do it, and I gotta let off some steam from time to time.