Happy easter (I dont celebrate it but my family does so might as well say it to you guys)
Recently started playing elden ring and if the story was not so convoluted (like all souls games) I would probably make a story similar to this one.
also... MAUL SHADOW LORD is absolute fucking cinema, the animation in particular is fucking peak, Rook Kast? I am in love if I did not have 4 chapters already mostly written out plus outline for next 9 and a general idea of how this story will progress/end I would have added her as a love interest but alas. I am not willing to add harem this relatively late into the story also by the time he is 18 she would be dead or like 40 pushing 50 which is kind of ehhh. (Dont get me wrong I love me some older mature women) but still. Maybe my next star wars story will have her as a love interest.
Edit - yeah I am already planning deep into a new mandalorian fanfic one but so far only posting the drafts to my friends
Anywho.
***
The palace courtyard was lit with strings of soft golden lights and several large bonfires, casting a warm glow over the gathered crowd, it was a modest celebration by Core standards, but for Elyria it felt almost extravagant.
Tables groaned under platters of roasted meats, fresh bread, spiced stews from the clans, and bottles of local fermented fruit wine. Music drifted through the air a mix of native drums and Mandalorian string instruments along with some more well known galaxy songs all the while children ran between the adults, laughing.
Today was my sixteenth birthday.
One year and a few weeks since I had first woken up in this body on my way to Elyria, one year since the crash, the memories, the terror of realizing I was now responsible for millions of lives in a galaxy that wanted to eat the weak.
I stood near the central fire, wearing a simple but well-tailored dark tunic with silver threading and the governor's insignia pinned at the collar a long gray cape hung from my shoulders, edged in black.
For once I wasn't carrying the weight of a dozen urgent reports on my shoulders or datapads in my pocket.
Atii approached first, a mischievous grin on her face, she was wearing a lighter version of her usual armor, brown hair tied back with a leather cord. In her hands was a long, narrow package wrapped in dark cloth. "Happy birthday, Governor," she said, bumping my shoulder with hers. "Don't get too excited. It's practical."
I unwrapped it to reveal a beautifully balanced vibroblade, its hilt wrapped in dark leather with subtle Mandalorian knotwork the blade itself had a faint ripple pattern from the forging process. "It's beskar-alloy edged," she explained. "Light, strong, and it won't break when you inevitably do something stupid."
I laughed and tested the balance. "Thank you. I'll try not to embarrass you with it."
She smirked. "Too late for that."
Jaster came next, accompanied by several clan elders. He presented me with a set of reinforced pauldrons in Mandalorian style, subtly worked with Elyrian motifs a stylized plains eagle merged with the Mythosaur skull. "You've earned the right to wear them," he said gruffly. "Not as decoration. As a reminder that you stand with warriors now."
Elara offered a traditional native gift: a finely woven cloak made from the soft under-fur of plains beasts, dyed in deep reds and threaded with small protective charms. "For the cold nights ahead," she said simply. "And for the path you walk."
Lira and Mira gave me a custom diagnostic gauntlet that could interface with almost any system on the planet or in orbit.
Rusty, presented a small data crystal. "Complete tactical archives and personality backups," he said proudly. "Just in case your organic brain ever fails you, creator."
Even Torv gave a rare half-smile and handed over a heavy repeating blaster pistol, custom-gripped for my hand.
The night continued with toasts, stories, and music. For a few hours I let myself feel sixteen not the reluctant ruler carrying two lifetimes of memories, but just a young man surrounded by people who had become something close to family.
When the celebration finally wound down and the last guests departed, I stood alone on a balcony overlooking the darkened plains. The moons hung low and full, bathing everything in that familiar rust-red light.
I looked out at the distant lights of the orbital shipyard, the faint glow of the gas giant platform, and the scattered lights of new settlements spreading across the plains.I wasn't the scared, freshly-transmigrated fifteen-year-old anymore.
I wasn't small.
And Elyria was no longer a forgotten backwater.
Well, mostly.
***
The bridge of the Void Talon was dark, lit only by the cold blue glow of tactical displays and the faint pulse of status runes. No voices echoed across the deck, only the low, constant hum of droid servos and the whisper of cooling fans.
I stood at the center command dais, one hand resting on the railing, watching the starfield streak past as we dropped out of hyperspace. The captured cruiser felt alive in a mechanical way every system responding with instant, emotionless precision. No nervous helmsman or tired gunners calling out ranges. Just silent efficiency.
Around me, B1s and B2s moved with smooth coordination at their stations, pne battle droid quietly adjusted shield harmonics while another monitored sensor sweeps. They didn't speak unless necessary.
I did overhear a pair of B1s whispering about behaving in front of 'the big boss' and 'doing their best'. Man I fucking love B1s, silly little clankers that they are.
The Super Tactical Droid stood motionless a few paces to my right, its crimson photoreceptors glowing steadily as it oversaw the entire operation, its tall frame dominated the bridge, silent and commanding.
"Exit complete," one of the B1s reported in its flat monotone. "We are in the target system. No Imperial signatures detected. Three confederation remnant outposts confirmed on long-range scan. They are already hailing us."
The Super Tactical Droid turned its head slightly toward me. "Transponder codes do not match any recognized friendly signature," it stated. "They are preparing defensive protocols. Probability of immediate engagement: ninety-eight percent."
I kept my voice calm. "Proceed as planned. Disable their communications first, if they have any. Then neutralize defenses capture what we can and destroy the rest if they resist."
"Orders received." The Void Talon surged forward, flanked by two other droid-crewed cruisers and a screen of smaller vessels. No chatter filled the comms, only crisp status updates.
Red targeting reticules bloomed across the tactical display as the outposts opened fire. Their turbolasers were old, inaccurate, and poorly maintained. The droid ships responded instantly evasive patterns executed with machine perfection, return fire precise and overwhelming.
I watched as one outpost's shield grid collapsed under coordinated ion cannon strikes.
Another tried to launch a desperate squadron of patched-together vultures and hyena bombers.
They lasted less than thirty seconds before guour own vultures and gnners tore them apart.
The Super Tactical Droid spoke again, voice cold and analytical. "Enemy tactical droid identified on the central outpost. It is one of the older models made before the war. Damaged. Its command subroutines are fragmented. It has ordered all remaining forces to fire on Void Talon and to commit suicidal ramming procedures."
A corner of my mouth twitched.
If that is how you want to play you fucking wrinkly rust tinted wireback, then lets play.
"Disable that outpost's command center intact if possible," I ordered. "I want whatever data cores they still have."
"Affirmative."The Void Talon rolled smoothly, its turbolasers stitching bright lines across the void. One by one the outposts fell silent. Boarding pods launched from the droid cruisers sleek, automated craft carrying squads of B2 super battle droids and a handful of reactivated commando droid units.
I stayed on the bridge, fingers tight on the railing, feeling the faint vibrations through the deck as the ship maneuvered.
No fear.
No chaos.
Just cold, calculated violence. Which is totally up my alley.
The Super Tactical Droid turned its head toward me once more.
"First outpost secured. Enemy tactical droid neutralized. Data extraction underway. Casualties: none on our side. They have put most of their remaining gas into fighters and laser batteries, only few ground troops had blaster gas."
I exhaled slowly, the red glow of distant explosions reflecting in my eyes.
***
The command deck of the Void Talon was still quiet in that unnerving droid way when the first data packets began streaming in from the boarding teams, I remained at the center dais, arms crossed, watching the tactical holotable update in real time.
The three outposts were now dark, their defenses shattered, their surviving systems under droid control. The Super Tactical Droid stood motionless a few steps away, its crimson photoreceptors flickering as it processed the incoming flood of information.
"Data extraction at seventy-three percent," it reported, voice flat and precise. "Material inventory is limited. Schematics recovered: partial designs for outdated shield modulators and a degraded hyperdrive optimization routine. Resource caches are minimal three hundred and twelve tons of low-grade durasteel, small quantities of Tibanna gas, and some spare parts. one hundred forty-seven reactivated droids of various models have been secured, though most require significant repair."
It paused, then continued without emotion. "The most valuable acquisition is a partial map of nearby sectors in the Unknown Regions. Several hyperspace routes are marked, along with notations on resource-rich systems and one unmarked gravitational anomaly. The data is fragmented but recoverable."
I studied the slowly rotating holomap that appeared above the table. The Unknown Regions are the wild, dangerous unkown bit of space space that even the most skilled of pilots and best ships have hard time navigating due to the countless anomalies, lack of hyperspace lanes or even more dangerous, them shifting.
Empire mostly avoided it in public, but in private there are hundreds if not thousands outposts and bases in there, along with bases in the deep core.
Thats where Thrawn is from, the Chiss Ascendancy is at least to my knowledge in the north western parts of the unknown regions so he has better grasp than most about it.
Now a piece of it had fallen into my hands.
"Not much in terms of immediate resources," I muttered, "but that map could be worth more than an entire fleet if we use it right, mining, secret outpost, smuggling and escape routes."
The Super Tactical Droid inclined its head slightly. "Agreed. Strategic value of the map exceeds material gains by a factor of approximately fourteen. Recommend secure storage and cross-referencing with existing navigation data."
Around us, the droids continued their silent work at the consoles with only a pair of B1s looking at eachother and then back to the consoles.
I glanced at the tall droid beside me, "Compile a full report," I said. "Include damage assessments on the captured droids and recommendations for integration or scrapping. We'll decide what to keep once we return to Elyria."
"Processing."
The Super Tactical Droid turned back to its station, photoreceptors dimming as it dove deeper into the recovered data.
I stayed where I was, staring at the slowly rotating map of the Unknown Regions. A few scattered hyperspace lanes mapped out and discovered by the confederacy. A handful of unmarked systems, one gravitational anomaly that could be anything from a black hole to something far more interesting.
It wasn't a treasure hoard, but it was a door.
And doors like that didn't open often in the Outer Rim.
I allowed myself one small, private thought as the Void Talon began maneuvering to collect the last of the boarding teams.
We were no longer just defending Elyria.
We were starting to reach outward, and every new piece of information, every new ship, every new droid we brought into the fold made the wall I was building around my people a little thicker.
The bridge remained quiet, the only sounds the soft clicks of droid servos and the low hum of the ship's systems.
For now, that silence felt like victory.
***
Three days after the raid, the unannounced visitors arrived.I was in the middle of reviewing the latest factory output numbers when the priority alert flashed across my desk. A small Imperial shuttle had just dropped out of hyperspace and was requesting immediate landing clearance at Havenridge starport. No prior warning. No diplomatic courtesy.
The transponder identified it as a sector-level inspection craft.
I felt the familiar knot tighten in my stomach as I stood up, straightened my uniform, and headed for the starport with a small escort. Torv walked on my left, silent and armored, Rusty followed a step behind, his tall black frame drawing more than a few nervous glances from the palace staff who are still unused to the large droid, or simply have trauma after the clone wars.
The shuttle touched down with clinical precision, the ramp lowered, and two figures emerged.The first was a thin, officious-looking human in the crisp gray of a sector Moff's inspection staff Inspector Vellor. The second was a woman in the stark white of the Imperial Security Bureau, her posture rigid, eyes sharp and cold. ISB Agent Draven.
I met them at the bottom of the ramp with a calm, professional smile."Inspector Vellor, Agent Draven," I said, offering a respectful nod. "Welcome to Elyria. This is an unexpected honor."
Vellor's smile was thin and practiced. "Governor Voss. We were in the sector conducting routine audits and thought it best to see your… rapid development with our own eyes."Agent Draven said nothing at first, simply scanning the starport, the defenses, and the distant construction cranes.
We moved to a secure conference room near the landing pad. Once the doors sealed, Vellor wasted no time."Your industrial growth has been… remarkable, Governor," he began, sliding a datapad across the table. "New factories on the mining moon. Construction of an orbital platform over the gas giant, a growing shipyard in orbit. Trade volume that has tripled in mere months. And your pirate suppression record is almost too clean. The sector Moff is naturally curious how a previously negligible system achieved all this so quickly."
I kept my expression pleasant, the loyal young governor they expected to see.
"We simply made the best use of the resources available after dealing with the pirate confederation," I replied evenly. "Captured assets were repurposed, local labor was motivated, and we encouraged honest trade. Nothing more, of course the appropriate portion of the spoils was sent to the sector command"
Agent Draven finally spoke, her voice cool. "And the unusually effective nature of your operations? Your patrols seem to anticipate smuggler and slaver movements with remarkable accuracy."
"Dedicated crews and good intelligence," I said with a small shrug. "We learned from the last attack. We don't intend to be caught unprepared again."
Vellor leaned forward, his smile fading. "The Moff feels that such rapid growth warrants a modest increase in taxes. Ten to eighteen percent additional on all industrial and trade output should be reasonable, considering the protection the Empire provides."
The room grew very still.
I met his eyes calmly, then slowly placed my hand on the blaster holstered at my hip. Torv and the two stormtroopers behind me did the same, the soft click of safeties disengaging clearly audible.
"An increase in taxes?" I said, voice quiet but carrying. "Of course. With more revenue, the Moff will finally have the resources he needs to suppress pirates across the entire sector. Perhaps he can even investigate who has been selling large quantities of stolen Imperial equipment like the five thousand sets of stormtrooper armour we recovered from the pirate shipyard. I'm sure the ISB would be very interested in tracing that particular supply chain."
I let the words hang in the air.
Vellor's face paled slightly.
Agent Draven's eyes narrowed not at me but at Vellor as she jotted something down in her datapad. I kept my hand resting lightly on my blaster.
"Wouldn't you agree, Inspector?" I asked softly. "That rooting out corruption and arms trafficking that supply filthy scum with the empires best weapons and armour paid by imperial taxes should be the priority?"
Vellor swallowed once, then forced a thin smile back onto his face."…Of course, Governor. The current tax rate is more than sufficient for now. We wouldn't want to overburden a system that is clearly contributing so well to Imperial stability."
Agent Draven studied me for a long moment, then gave a single, curt nod.
Oh Vellors balls are about to be clamed down in a vice along with that fat bald moff fucker.
The meeting ended shortly after that. The inspector and the ISB agent returned to their shuttle without further demands I gave them some local Elyrian souveniers as well, cant have them calling me stingy or unwelcoming.
As their ship lifted off, I stood on the landing pad and watched it disappear into the sky.
Torv grunted beside me. "The moff wont be happy ."
"I know, but the ISB will be more unhappy." I replied with a small smile.
***
Late that same night, I sat alone in the secure communication chamber beneath the palace.
The heavy doors were sealed, the jammers humming at full strength, only one encrypted channel was open the one that led directly to the droid base.
The Super Tactical Droid appeared in crisp blue above the holotable, its crimson photoreceptors glowing steadily."Governor," it began without greeting, "construction of the primary droid foundry is now fully complete along with all the redundancies and contingencies. All mining operations and refining facilities are fully operational and running at one hundred and four percent of projected capacity. We no longer require additional resources from Elyria. Surplus materials are being stockpiled for expansion."
It paused for a fraction of a second, as if processing the next part with extra care."Within the next six months we will begin construction of additional foundries, mines, and refineries across the system. Preliminary surveys indicate we will also be able to start work on an orbital shipyard suitable for capital ship construction and repair by that time."
I leaned forward, elbows on the table. The news was better than I had hoped, but it also carried weight. "That's faster than expected," I said. "How confident are you in maintaining complete secrecy?"
"Secrecy remains intact. All transmissions are routed through multiple blind relays. No Imperial or syndicate probes or otherwise have entered sensor range. The base is self-sufficient and expanding."
The droid's head tilted slightly. "There is one additional matter. You have referred to me only by designation. If continued cooperation is expected, a functional identifier would improve operational clarity."
I stared at the holo for a long moment, then a small, tired grin tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"Grok," I said simply.
The droid went silent for several seconds, photoreceptors flickering as it processed the word.
"Grok,"
It repeated, testing the sound.
"Accepted." From the corner of the chamber, Rusty let out a soft, amused vocalization.
"My creator is weird sometimes," he muttered, just loud enough to be heard. I turned toward him with a raised eyebrow and asked, voice light.
"Grok, is this true?"
The Super Tactical Droid now Grok paused again, then answered with perfect mechanical neutrality. "Observation: The governor exhibits unconventional naming conventions and occasional illogical humour patterns. Assessment: Yes. This appears to be accurate.
"I couldn't help but laugh quietly, the sound echoing softly in the secure room. It was a small, ridiculous moment in the middle of building something enormous and dangerous. But for just a second, it felt good.
I leaned back in the chair, the grin fading into something more serious as the weight of everything settled back in."Keep expanding," I told Grok.
Letting slip another chuckle.
"Quietly and effficiently. When the time comes, we'll need everything you can build."
"Understood." The holo flickered and vanished.
I sat there in the sudden silence, staring at the empty space where the droid had been.
Grok.
The name still made me smile, even as the reality of what I was doing pressed down on my shoulders.
A secret droid army was growing in the dark while I am playing cities skylines but on a galactic scale with an orbital shipyard rising above my planet.
***
The lake shore was quiet under the late afternoon sun, the water reflecting the rust-colored sky like polished copper.
A gentle breeze carried the scent of pine from the nearby hills and the faint smoke of cooking fires where families had gathered along the beach.
I sat on a smooth rock near the water's edge, boots off, sleeves rolled up, letting the warmth soak into my skin. For once there were no urgent reports in my hands and no immediate crisis demanding my attention.
Atii was a few meters away, laughing as she tossed a small stone across the water, skipping it four times before it sank. Her brown hair was loose for once, catching the light as she turned and grinned at me. "You're staring again, Voss."
"Am not," I replied, but the corner of my mouth betrayed me.
Nearby, Mira sat on a blanket with Lira, both of them watching Rusty demonstrate something to a group of curious children from the new settler families. The tall droid moved with surprising grace, crouching down to show a small girl how to properly hold a practice vibroblade.
You know what? I am not even going to question it since the parents seem to not care I wont either.
His dark purple photoreceptors glowed softly as he explained the balance in that crisp, calm voice.
Torv stood a little further back, arms crossed, keeping a protective eye on everything while a few off-duty stormtroopers and native warriors relaxed with their families.
Jaster had brought a small contingent of Mandalorians; one of them was telling stories around a fire pit, the younger clan members listening intently and Elara walked along the shore with a few elders, speaking quietly in the native tongue, occasionally glancing toward the group with a small, satisfied smile.
For a few precious hours, there were no governors, no admirals, no hidden armies just people enjoying a rare calm day by the lake.
In the background, a small holo-projector someone had set up for the children flickered with galactic news feeds, the volume turned low. Most of it washed over me until a familiar name cut through the murmur of conversation."…Saw Gerrera's forces have claimed responsibility for another series of strikes, including a bold attack on Coruscant itself. Reports also mention the involvement of a Jedi fugitive named Cal Kestis…"
My eyes widen a fraction at that name.
Hold the fuck up what.
I stared at the flickering image of the young ginger jedi who is without his iconic pink poncho.
Guess the Jedi survivor and Fallen order are cannon I guess? I just hope starkiller isn't and that he is not going on his evil route.
If Saw Gerrera's violence was spreading and a Jedi was making noise it just means we are getting closer to events of Andor and early rebel seasons.
Hopefully non of this reaches us, but knowing my fucking luck Luke and his merry band of friends or someone else like Cassian or ghost squadron will think that my system is a good hiding spot which will bring the attention of certain people that love to breathe heavily in corridors and choke people with their minds.
Still have few years of peace and quiet at least before everything blows up.
I picked up a smooth stone from the sand and skipped it across the lake, watching the ripples spread outward.
***
A few days later I found myself in the secure conference room again, this time facing three holo-images of exhausted-looking men.
Governor Taren of Veyra, Governor Hale of Korrin Reach, and Governor Seld of the Nimura Drift stared back at me from their respective systems to the north and northeast. All three were older than me, worn down by years of dealing with pirate raids, slaver incursions, and indifferent sector oversight.
Taren spoke first, voice rough. "We've been watching what you've done with Elyria. The patrols, the factories and the way you actually butchered the pirates back instead of just filing reports and requests for assistance. Our systems are smaller, weaker. We're barely holding on."
Hale nodded slowly. "Every month we lose more ships to raiders. Our people are leaving. We can't protect the trade lanes anymore."
Seld leaned forward. "We need help, real help, but we wont just handover our governorship to you, but an accord can be made that benefits both."
I listened without interrupting, letting them lay it all out.
"What we propose," Taren continued, "is this: extend your patrols into our space. Put our few remaining self-defense ships and their crews under your command. Integrate our TIEs and bombers into your wider operations. In return, we'll back you politically in the sector. We'll reduce tariffs on goods moving between our systems, open our planets to your businesses, and pay you a percentage of our system income for the protection."
Isin't it practically them becoming administrators under my name but still keeping the title of governor? Is this just a matter of pride not wanting to be seen as a direct subordinate to a teenager or something and having the prestige of being a system governor?
Hale added, "We keep our personal guards and small local militias for day-to-day order. Everything else the ships, the fighters, the stormtrooper contingents goes under your authority."
Ah yeah, totally prideful.
I studied the three of them carefully.
Combined, their systems held roughly sixteen million people across a handful of planets and moons. Each had one small capital ship for self-defense nothing massive, just enough to scare off minor threats on a good day. Their fighter wings were small and poorly maintained.It wasn't a huge addition, but it was meaningful. More patrol coverage. More eyes in the region. More political allies who owed me.
I leaned back slightly. "I accept. My ships will begin extended patrols immediately. Your vessels and fighter squadrons will be integrated into the wider network under my command. In exchange, you reduce tariffs, support my positions in sector meetings, allow my businesses to operate freely on your worlds, and pay an agreed percentage of system income for the protection provided."
All three administ- sorry governors nodded, visible relief on their faces.
"Done," Taren said. "We'll transmit the necessary command codes within the hour."
The holos winked out one by one, leaving the room quiet again.
I snorted.
By handing over command of all their ships and their stormtroopers and essentially paying taxes to me I became the governor of a small segment of four systems with Elyria being the 'capital system'. But they still want to have the title of governor.
Whatever.
Sixteen million more people now indirectly under my protection along. Elyria itself on the planet has six million, and a few million more on the moon, with some migrants and refugees and freed slaves we are close to eleven million. Which is only five million less than the other three systems combined.
Three additional small capital ships and their crews which few months ago would have me crying in joy but now we have more and better ships and droids and some humans to crew them as for the TIEs? They were, are and will always be garbage but its still something, the bombers are a nice bonus though.
Three weeks later the numbers came in.
The three systems delivered exactly what they had promised, each governor handed over one small capital ship one Carrack-class light cruiser, one modified Corellian corvette, and one aging DP20 gunship. All three vessels were already crewed and operational. Along with them came their full complement of TIE fighters and bombers: 47 TIE/ln fighters and 19 TIE bombers in total.
The fighters were older models, many with patched hulls and worn engines, but they were spaceworthy. Somewhat, on the ground side, the governors transferred 680 stormtroopers — a mix of veterans and newer recruits plus their attached support crews. Their personal guards and local planetary militias remained under their own control, as agreed.
I reviewed the final tallies in my office late at night.
Three additional capital ships.
66 combat-ready fighters and bombers.
680 stormtroopers now flying under Elyrian operational command.It wasn't a massive windfall, but it was solid. The new ships extended our patrol range significantly to the north and northeast. The extra TIEs and bombers gave us more teeth for escort and interdiction missions. The stormtroopers would help fill out boarding teams and reinforce key garrisons.
I closed the datapad and leaned back in the chair.
Four systems now moved in loose coordination with Elyria at the center. Sixteen million more people indirectly under my protection with trade lanes between us were already opening up. Tariffs were dropping and my businesses had permission to expand into their territory.
It wasn't conquest, it was a quiet, practical takeover framed as an alliance born from their desperation.
And it was working.