Hilter Afdol is best described as an Oruip Onion, a type of produce that his company, Agro Incorporated, sends to markets across the galaxy daily. An Oruip Onion has several thick distinct layers, each with a wildly different color than the next; sometimes one onion contains ten different colors. Each layer has its own distinct flavor- but that’s not what makes an Oruip Onion special. What make it truly unique is the fact that from onion to onion, the number, thickness and order of the layers varies, even between specimens on the same plant. One fat Oruip might contain seven layers, while another specimen from the same plant could have 5 layers, and omit all the colors of its cousin. Why such behavior occurs is unknown, and is quite a mystery in the botanical world; but that fact that it does makes the Oruip a delicacy and commoners veggie at the same time. Some Oruips are intricate, delectable and simply scrumptious. Others are frenetic, simplistic and in all frankness, terrible. What you get isn't apparent, however, until the Oruip is opened up.

Hilter Afdol shares several characteristics with an Oruip Onion. He is a man of many trades and talents and can change radically from day to day. He is also a man of many secrets, often hidden deep behind his outward façade, that can only be reached by peeling away his exterior. He is unpredictable and is liable to go off on a whim, such as his bid for the leadership of the Azguards, and his decision to start an agricultural corporation. Much like the Oruip, those plans successes range from amazingly good, to horrifically bad. Most of the time, Hilter puts together a reliable string of ‘goods’ before having a ‘bad’. His secret planning for the Galactic Liberation Front is a perfect example of his quality of work- tremendous successes the majority of the time, with a few utter failures mixed in.

His work on Agro Incorporated however, could be labeled a complete success. Building a massive company from scratch is an impressive feet for anyone, but even more so for a man who relied on natural instincts and intelligence as his primary guidance. Agro Inc. was built almost singled handedly by one man, with no business background, to become the largest and most dominant entity on crop laden Garqi. Absorbing almost all competition on the world, Agro pumps out massive amounts of foodstuffs every season, an exporting it to every corner of the galaxy. With such a dominating control of a fertile world like Garqi, Agro has become one of the major players in the galaxies food production scene. A report of a good harvest on Garqi can send food futures of all sorts soaring, while a poorer report can send shockwaves right to the store shelves. There are other players as well, just as large or larger than Agro, but Hilter already has plans to expand his companies power to other areas. With fields and influence elsewhere already, Hilter’s actively working on gaining total market share on other worlds like Garqi. In doing so, he and Agro will have to go head to head with several other major players in the Agricultural business. When that happens, the equivalent of corporate warfare ensures, as lobbying, bidding and planning become the three fronts in the fighting. But where other companies have only themselves to throw into the fray, Hilter has a resource that will prove to be invaluable.

The Union.



The galaxy is a huge place. Duh. Tremendously large. Inordinate amounts of area. Some of it is amazing, stunning, awe-inspiring, and breathtaking. The sort of place where holo-vids are made; where pictures are plastered on clothing and souvenirs and people flock by the thousands simply to say they've been there. Other places are amazing in a different sort of way- inspiring because they are they unique way they are. Coruscant is the ultimate example. A planet covered in cityscape, with barley a reminder of what was once a living world. No one can go to Coruscant for the first time and say they aren't deeply moved (possibly by revulsion or disgust, but moved none the less.)
However, most of the galaxy is not amazing or breathtaking or awe inspiring.

Most of the galaxy is boring.

The reason most of the galaxy is boring, is that for the interesting parts to function, the boring parts must exist. The mighty shipyards that produce the warships of the galaxy would cease to function if the many dull ordinary mining colonies of the galaxy didn't pump out raw material for them to shape and mold. The cityscapes and tourist attractions can't be marred by the sweatshops and droid factories that pour out their wares, and thus the usefulness of the Corporate Sector becomes readily apparent. The galaxy is littered with examples of places that are plain and unexciting. However, even the dullest place can have its quirks- or even events that propel that locale to the top of interest cycle. Tatooine was a backwater, unimportant desert rock where a mega corporation had foundered and hooded midgets provided the only form of native entertainment. The planet was abandoned multiple times, and was "the place farthest from the bright center of the universe": until Luke Skywalker was brought there, a space battle was fought over it, and Jabba located his crime syndicate's palace on the backwater planet. Then Tatooine became a hot-bed of interest and intrigue which is still boiling to this day, proving even the most dull of locales can become a galactic point of interest....

To most observers, Annoo would be the epitome of a working cog in the machine that is the galaxy. One of the most boring, uninteresting rocks in existence. The last time Annoo was thrust onto the major galactic scene was during a failed coup attempt directly preceding the Clone Wars by a certain General Ashaar Khorda. When both Jedi and other Old Republic forces put down the military insurgence, and restored a free government to Annoo, the planet faded as the huge specter of Galactic conflict dominated for decades. The clone wars and subsequent galactic civil war barley touched Annoo, whose foodstuffs were sold to middlemen who distributed them across the galaxy. Annoo maintained a sullen neutrality through the conflicts, and despite its long growing season and huge grazing areas for livestock, was never targeted by any major power for galactic conquest. The planet settled into a dull, normal existence, pumping out meat and grain for places that had little time or space to devote to farming. Nothing out of the ordinary.

As Hilter Afdol looked over the datapad detailing this rather short history, and planetary statistics, he thought exactly that. Annoo was a plain sort of place. There were no famous citizens known to the galaxy at large, no major battles fought in a pivotal galactic conflict, not even a staple crop for which the world was known. Farmers shifted their produce depending upon several factors, including the season, futures prices, and who was running the planets agricultural contract at the time.

The Annoo Licensed Foodstuffs Contract.

Given out at often changing intervals by the government of Annoo, the contract gave either exclusive, or partially exclusive rights to all of Annoo's bounty to one, or a few select companies. The contract helped set production quotas, exports tariffs and other peripheries; basically setting every important standard in the planets farming/ranching operations for a set period of time. The contracts varied widely, and had gone to a multitude of various companies over the years. Local farming conglomerates, major industrial names, and even the planetary government's farming bureau had won the contract during that time. The process for selection rested with an independent panel of local officials, who reviewed the bids by anyone interested in the contract, and awarded either outright, or partial control to those bids which they believed would best benefit the planet, and provided the most incentives. A number of factors went into the selection process, which usually took about a week. The bids were made in secret, and each interested party was allowed only one submission- in an attempt to gain the best offer from every party. Speculation ran rampant among the planet's populace, as the contract often affected the citizens’ daily life for years to come, often in more ways than just whom they were working for. Some companies opened free technical schools, had entertainment packages, or provided other unrelated services as part of their plan to win the contract. The government's farming bureau sent in a pretty basic plan every year, with an occasional perk, and publicized its deal, to set a standard for others to follow. Underbidding the farming bureau was allowed, but only one package had ever been less comprehensive and beaten out the farming bureau's selection- and only because of a budget shortfall that would have prevented the bureau from carrying out its plan.

And it was time again for Annoo's government to hand out a new contract.

Hilter Afdol, head of Agro Inc. planned on winning that contract, expanding his already impressive company to new heights. Annoo's diverse products and adaptability made it unique in its ability to produce what was in high demand, and its multiple, if somewhat shorter growing seasons helped this sort of quick change economy. The most recent holder of the contract, a consortium of local farmers, had pulled off a veritable coup d'tat, to win the most recent deal, which had lasted about two years. They had made a killing, and Annoo's citizens had benefited highly during their tenure but recent disagreement involving how to split profits among the farmers had split the consortium at a crucial moment. With no incumbent to defend its territory, the game was as open as ever for a new player to step in. Hilter knew that if Agro were to step in and gain the Annoo contract, now would be the time.

Unfortunately, others in the food business realized this as well. Several other well-known competitors to Agro were also eager to snap up Annoo, as boring as it was, and gain its vast fields and plains of grazing herds. However, unlike the others, Hilter Afdol was ready to do whatever was required to secure the contract.

Anything.

Garqi
Agro Incorporated Headquarters

Sometimes Hilter Afdol wondered why he chose to accommodate his employees in the manner in which he often did. As CEO it was his prerogative to do things when and where the suited him, yet here he was, strolling down a long hallway en route to a conference room at the opposite end of the building. The primary reason for that choice of location was convenience for the majority of attendees, who merely had to walk across the hall from auditorium where they had been viewing a large multimedia presentation detailing un upcoming focus on expanding Agro Inc off-world.

He could have made the meeting near his office. He could have chosen his own personal convenience. Yet, for some reason, until now the thought hadn't occurred to him. He peered back into the past, recalling his thoughts when scheduling the meeting. He quickly had the answer; he had wondered how to best facilitate the largest number of people involved in the meeting. He spent a good deal of time and energy looking up available locations and cross-referencing them with the people with which he was going to be meeting. He immediately chalked this action as the product of his logistically inclined mind-the mind that helped him coordinate the complex operations of the GLF. As he turned a corner, another thought sprang to his head, which provoked an interesting question.

He had never once thought about his own personal convenience, even when considering all those involved in the meeting (he had omitted himself). The question was Why?

Why had he disregarded his own interests for those of others? He could think of no logical reason, especially considering the fact that it would be his privilege to pick a location for the meeting that would best suit his needs.

He would have continued along that line of thought had he not been distracted by the pair of armored soldiers marching the opposite direction down the hallway. Their white armor had been recently polished and reflected the lights put off by the small chandeliers that hung from the ceilings. Any sentient being in the galaxy could have told you who was walking down the hallway- Imperial Stormtroopers. Hilter walked by the two without incident, they seemed not to notice the CEO of Agro as they passed him, and continued on his way. He wasn't surprised to see a pair of stromtroopers walking the halls of the Agro Headquarters (they were a semi-common sight) but despite the fact that the Imperial presence had been evident on Garqi for some time, Hilter didn't think he would ever get used to seeing them walking the halls. Every time he saw a group, Hilter had to suppress an urge to go the other direction. Most of the stormtroopers paid him no attention, and the few that did were very respectful (they were the ones who knew Hilter wasn't just some stupid corporate lackey) but the feeling of insecurity he had around them lingered despite their countenance.

His feelings about the stormtroopers mirrored that of the Imperial occupation in general: outwardly he accepted it, but inwardly Hilter retained a certain feeling of paranoia and even fear of the Imperial presence. Part of that stemmed from what he had revealed in his office to Captain Sansa, on the night that sealed Garqi's status as an Imperial Protectorate. He had revealed his ties to the GLF... revealed enough details to be dragged off to some god-forsaken hellhole and tortured or even just summarily shot. He had been telling himself over and over that if Sansa had wanted to have him "dealt with" he would have done so already, and that he was worrying for nothing; but the constant reminder of how vulnerable he was among the legions of Imperials on Garqi had kept the thought fresh in his mind.

He really had not wanted to reveal his connection to the terrorist organization so candidly, but...

The meeting was in five minutes, and Hilter realized he had been standing still in the middle of the hallway, as he was thinking. A common occurrence of his, to be lost in thought and shrink away from the outside world. It had happened many times, and Hilter knew that the long pause simply allowed him to focus all of his mental energy on one target. Hilter started walking again, his pace quickened.

He had an important meeting to get to.

"... of course, we are not the only company preparing a bid. The exclusiveness, and of course, the profit generated makes this deal an attractive option for several other major players. Press releases have already confirmed that a large number of companies and entities will be placing their own bids."

Hilter Afdol's eyes joined the several dozen others in the room as they turned their attention from the strategic marketing presenter over to a large holo-projector that had suddenly come to life. Still images were projected in succession into the middle of the room, rotating momentarily then disappearing.

"There are numerous smaller collectives and companies vying for the contract. Several, like the Burletagge Group and Illairh Corporation, can even be considered dark horse challengers for the contract. However our primary concern must be with the two other, major, agricultural firms who have declared an interest in the contract: The Ukian Farming Bureau, and Salliche Agricultural Corporation."

The holo-graphic projections froze, displaying the logos of both organizations.

"In reality, who gets the contract boils down to a three way race. Although the contract has been won in the past by smaller firms, the last bidding session being a classic example, it is unlikely that such a small bid will be able to win this time, especially if the three primary players offer their best deals. "

The projections changed, and the rotating images returned to the screen, different from before.

"The Ukian Farming Bureau, like each of the major three players, has advantages as well as disadvantages. In its favor is its reputation.”

A few of the executives at the meeting chuckled at the statement. The Ukians had quite the reputation- for being tricked into surrendering their heavily shielded planet to a single Imperial Star Destroyer and Dreadnaught during an attack by Grand Admiral Thrawn. The marketing exec continued uninterrupted.

“On a planetwide scale, no one has reached such levels of efficiency and quality control. Their culture and government are all totally based around agriculture. It has long been assumed that if they could reproduce their success on other worlds that they would become the dominant agricultural power in the galaxy.”

He paused, and shrugged his shoulders.

“This is their first attempt to expand beyond their own planet. While their track record on Ukio is very impressive, it is also their primary weakness. The Ukians must prove that they can succeed on a planet whose culture is not as indoctrinated as theirs, and does not have the same infrastructure. If they can do so, they may very well be impossible to outbid.”
The final statement caused a sudden murmur among the gathered Agro businessmen. After a moment Hilter raised his hand, signaling them to let the marketing expert continue.

“Salliche is a completely different story.”

The images changed. Pictures of ragged humans, aliens in tattered clothing, and droids flashed by in quick succession.

“It’s almost as if Salliche is the polar opposite of the Ukians. Whereas the Ukians have not proven themselves on other world beside their homeworld, Salliche is perhaps the most recognized and established agricultural company in the galaxy.”

The marketing man looked up at the assembled executives, as if challenging them to suggest anything different. None did.

“Salliche is well established in the Yulant, Ruan, and Broest Systems and of course, on Salliche. They record profits greater than the GDP of numerous core worlds and have more power, economically and politically, than the former Anthos Republic.”

The murmur started up again, and once again Hilter raised his hand to quiet the room. This time the gesture had no effect, so Hilter spoke,

“Let the man talk. We’ll have plenty of time to argue when he’s done.”

The statement had the desired effect. The room went quiet again.

“There power comes from the sheer volume of product they can produce…. Or withhold. A Salliche embargo could cause famine in dozens of systems. An across the board price hike could bankrupt countless more. They can guarantee better prices from wholesalers on Annoo, absorb the losses, and have no problem in the short term because of their massive profits elsewhere. If they gradually increase prices they could return Annoo to profitability and make a killing in the long run.”

A picture of a man in expensive suit popped up as a holo-projection.

“That’s exactly what this man, Gorden Vagram, will do.

He’s Salliche’s Director of Operations, and without him Salliche would not be half the company it is today.”

The picture changed to that of angry aliens, fists raised in the air.

“Salliche’s weakness comes from its strengths. It so large and diverse that its difficult to manage. It’s worker-employer relationship is poor: Salliche only employs sentients when its cheaper than using droids…”
That statement didn’t need finishing.

“Salliche has a history of worker revolts. The amount tension on some of their planets is indescribable. Vagram is the only thing keeping them from imploding.”

Hilter stood up.

“Thank you, thank you for such an informative presentation. We have much to discuss.”

He pushed his hands out in an expanse gesture.

“I want our bid worked out immediately. Make sure we have a winnable bid, but don’t sell the farm.”

One of the Agro executives spoke out.

“What about the Ukians… and Salliche? And the smaller collectives; Illairh and the B…”

“Make sure we outbid the smaller groups.”

He paused and then made his way toward the doorway.

“The Ukians and Salliche…. Let me handle that.”

Rulant

The first kill was always the best.

The first target never knew what hit them.

The first impact was the kill shot.

The first was very rarely the last.


Qive's left eye peered through the tiny hole that passed for a scope on the A-295 sniper rifle, following the movement of a slowly marching guard. Ostensibly the guard was there to protect the field from arsonists. In reality... Qive smiled as a thought suddenly popped up in his head. In reality the guard would become a spark that would ignite a conflagration greater than any a mere arsonist might try to light.

Qive closed his left eye, letting his unaided right optic to scan the expansive field in front of him. Scores of humans and aliens were laboring, gallons of sweat pouring of their bodies as the afternoon sun beat down on their backs. Many went without clothing, or very close to it. Others had covered themselves like tusken raiders, using highly breathable fabric to shield them from the powerful rays of the planet's primary. There were fewer of these workers, but only one would be needed.

The field was in full bloom, at its plants were nearly 8 feet tall. The field was taking a patchwork appearance as sections of it were cut down, but it was primarily still standing. Qive surmised the plant must have multiple uses, as he watched laborers pick off odd shaped growths, presumably fruit, from the large thick stalks; then when the stalk was bare, cut the plant down and hauled it away. Workers appeared and disappeared at random as they stepped into and out of sections of the field were work still being done.

The guards walked on raised earthen walls that lined the edges of the fields. The earthen embankment sat over a shallow ditch that served to contain the run-off from severe storms. These particular fields lay in a high precipitation area, and were sometimes used to grow a semi-aquatic foodstuff in partially submerged paddies. When the field wasn't being used in this manner, the ditch was often used to capture rainwater for irrigation, a practice that saved money and conserved water. It also had the fringe benefit of acting as a sort of moat for the guards, who looked down on the fields as the defenders of an ancient castle looked down upon an army of besiegers.

Qive's own location was in on one of those earthen embankments, albeit, a partially collapsed one. The field adjacent to the one which he was surveying had been the site of a small accident- a crop dusting hovercraft had malfunctioned and begun spraying a potent weed-killing herbicide at extreme concentrations and was shot down to stem the damage- and was the perfect locale for launching this operation. It was overrun with a hybrid of indigenous weeds (hardy, quick-growing specimens were all that had survived generations of targeted elimination) and some unculled crop that stood at towering levels but looked rather sickly. Strewn throughout the field was the debris of the large craft, most notable the epi-center of its crash which had been the earthen retaining wall. It had nearly punched a hole threw the thick mound, stopped short only by a foot or so. The sides of the gaping hole had collapsed and in its wake a large pile of loose earth remained. The field was scheduled to be burned down and readied for re-planting in three days, once there was no danger that the fire would harm nearby fields, ripe for the harvest.

The opportunity presented itself. Qive watched with his right eye as a heavily clad worker knelt down at the edge of an open patch of the field that had been recently picked clean. The guard Qive had been watching earlier was facing that worker, but conveniently turned and began walk in the opposite direction, his back to the kneeling worker. Qive immediately stopped breathing. Accuracy was critical.

Sometimes in life it just helps to be a Gen'Dai.

The laser bolt flew straight and true... millimeters to the right of the guards head. He spun with amazing speed, his mouth opened wide, yelling. He started to raise his rifle. Thank (insert deity here) for human instinct. Qive pressed a small button that was in his stabilizing hand. In the center of the field, partially buried, an anti-personal mine exploded in a small orange fireball, and sent thousands of tiny spherical pieces of shrapnel flying in all directions. The look on the guards face was classic, confusion mixed with anger and an underlying terror consuming it all.

The next shot hit the guard on the bridge of the nose.

He fell forward, into the partially filled irrigation ditch. All hell began to break loose. Other guards were rushing toward the field: some had seen their compatriot fall, others hadn't. Workers were rushing out of the thick crops, many bleeding and obviously wounded. Some of the crops around them were sizzling, trying to catch on fire.

Qive waited. One last piece of the puzzle had to come together. He couldn't do anything about this part. He just had to hope things worked out...

A bloodied human with sandy blonde hair popped out of the crops. In his hand was a small holdout pistol. There was no time to react, as he pulled the trigger, hitting the closest guard in the lower abdomen. Somehow he avoided the return fire, ducking back into the thick foliage behind him. Then one of the guards gave Qive a gift he wasn't even expecting. He had ripped an incendiary grenade from a pouch and lobbed it at the patch of crops.

Qive suddenly found out what Hell was really like.

The explosion sent a mass of flames shooting skyward and instantaneously ignited a huge patch of the field. A mass of workers charged the earthen embankment, running from the firestorm that was building behind them. The guards, full of adrenaline and with the memory of their buddy just recently shot opened up with everything they had. Workers dropped like flies. More poured out from between the giant stalks. A good number of them pulled out weapons of there own and started shooting back. Other workers were already making it up the retaining wall, and began wielding farm equipment as melee weapons. The guards had the high ground and the technological advantage. But they were too severely outnumbered. The workers began surging over the wall, into the next field.

Qive tossed the A-295 forward, the rifle landed in the heart of one raging pocket of flames. He had one last job to do.

He ran around the side of the burning field, his arms filled with HE grenades similar to the ones the guards had been tossing. As he ran he tossed the grenades randomly, igniting nearby fields, and starting a series of firefights and adding to the growing mob of angry confused workers.

The critical part of the juncture was now. A primary transportation road was nearby, in the direction of the mobbing workers. Whipping out a pair of electrobinoculars, Qive could already see a blockade being set up, as several transport landspeeders unloaded reinforcements, donned in full battle gear, whole others began setting up E-Webs and mobile barriers. A cloud car whipped around above the road.

The mob was coming on fast... but if they met a hardened target like that road then they would be slaughtered. Qive hopped up onto a nearby retaining wall, devoid of guards who had rushed toward the pillars of black smoke rising high into the sky. He reached over to his back and grabbed the barrel of the Trident missile launcher. He grabbed a bead on the cloud car, and squeezed the trigger, which sent a high speed projectile spiraling out of the barrel. Qive dropped the launcher (maybe a lucky worker would pick it up) and watched as the cloud car slammed into the ground on the far side of the road. That field went up in flames. The attention of the guards was momentarily on the burning hulk of the cloud car, and Qive made good use of that distraction.

The other large weapon running down his back was suddenly in his hands. The thought of what was about to happen sent a jolt of excitement through Qive's body. With great vigor he pulled the trigger, and the zabrak battle cannon's multiple barrels began spitting out a multitude of deadly fire. The nearest landspeeders exploded as the amazingly powerful weapon raked their thinly armored chassis. Qive continued firing until the weapon sputtered, its power packed drained.

The road was lined with piles of dead guards. Qive dropped the battle cannon. A small group of remaining guards charged Qive, rifles blazing. Just for fun, he let the first salvo hit him, absorbing the burning pain simply to see the looks on the guards’ faces. Satisfied, he pulled out a pair of Mer-Sonn 434 "Deathhammer" blaster pistols. The hail of blaster fire dropped the last remaining obstruction to the growing mob.

He twirled the heavy, durasteel plated blasters, and then walked off away from the burning fields...

Garqi

It started out small. A few small reports trickled out, not attracting much attention. Just another labor/management dispute. Then the GNN, an independent news network owned by the multi-millionaire Maximillian Vertigan, sent a camera crew to Rulant. The first real images starting coming out: the towering pillars of black smoke, hanging over the charred remains of what were once lush fields, screaming aliens charging blockades of heavily armed corporate security guards. Powerful, vivid images of the chaos that was reigning on Rulant.

Watching the holonet play round the clock coverage of the incident was amazingly gratifying to Hilter Afdol. Following the GNN's report the galaxies numerous news networks were saturating the airwaves with pictures of burning fields, rioting works hands and squirming Salliche executives claiming that the "situation was under control." Most of the images were being recycled now, as Salliche had "escorted" all of the camera crews away from the problem areas for "security reasons." Still, the damage had already been done. The entire galaxy had seen the masses of angry humans and aliens, dirty and ragged, torching fields, attacking guards and destroying farming equipment. Images of highly armed guards firing on unarmed workers was causing a stir- already several galactic governments were suggesting a boycott of Salliche products as a response to such harsh tactics.

The financial world was pounding Salliche. It's stock was dropping faster than a Galactic Coalition warship's shield at the Battle of Corellia. You couldn't find a stockbroker who was rating Salliche a buy. Network financial consultants were predicting losses in the millions of credits for the company. Company executives were trying to reassure their stockholders that everything would be ok, but no sane person was holding onto Salliche stock.

The best part of the whole ordeal was that this wasn't the first time Salliche had had difficulties with rioting workers. Immediately following the Battle of Endor their had been numerous uprisings on Salliche worlds- incidents that had hung over Salliche's head for years. Supposedly the company had put those problems behind them. This new incident sent a powerful message.

Obviously not.

Granted, Salliche hadn't sparked off the incident on its own, but outside of Hilter and a few key Union members, no one knew that. The rest would simply see the incident and connect Salliche to unrest. The company had recovered from that label before. They had survived and thrived. Maybe they could do it again.

Hilter doubted it.

Gorden Vagram was a public relations wizard. He was a master labor negotiator. He wasn't however, a miracle worker.

He had helped turn around Salliche the first time; helped the agricultural giant shed its terrible public image. Doing so had required a dedicated, time consuming, PR campaign- lasting years and going very, very slowly. This time Salliche wouldn't have that freedom. Pressure would be on them to reform quickly. Maybe they could do. Hilter Afdol doubted it, especially if he had anything to say on the matter.

What Hilter didn't doubt was that Salliche was out of the running for the Anno contract. They could bid to run Annoo for free and Hilter would be willing to bet against their chances.

Which meant that only one thing remained in the way of the Agro bid for Annoo:

The Ukians.


Hilter dialed a number on his com-link....

The words Ukian and agriculture are almost synonymous. One would be a hard-pressed to find another race of sentients more talented at working the soil, or another planet more productive in that respect.

Looking at a Ukian, without any prior knowledge, and agriculture is not what immediately springs to mind. They are a race of hairless humanoids, with green skin and thin red eyes. Words often used to describe a Ukian are "gangly", "loping", "wiry" and "awkward". The first impression of a Ukian is that when they made the mold for them, the sculptor had all the pieces right- he just put them together backwards, or skewed somehow. This odd construction leads many to believe that Ukians are weak, which could not be farther from fact. On the contrary, Ukians possess great physical strength, which when coupled with a keen understanding of the science of agriculture, allowed them to become some of the galaxies best farmers at a very earlier point in galactic history.

Although millions of sentients around the galaxy benefit from the bounty of Ukio everyday, those who know about the planet do because of the most famous moment in its history: Grand Admiral Thrawn's dreadnaught deception. The incident, in which Thrawn snuck a cloaked dreadnaught under Ukio's planetary shield and then managed to make it appear like his Star Destroyer could bombard through the protective screen, was one of the greatest military (as well as economic and political) victories in galactic history. A fully shielded world, taken in pristine condition, in only a few hours time. Although the deception was eventually uncovered, there was a stigma of cowardice associated with the Ukians by many. Others liked to assert that the race was nothing but a bunch of dumb brutes, whose only talent lay in working in the fields.

Regardless of such stereotypes, no one could deny that the Ukians were the best of the best when it came down to farming. No other planet produced singly as productive yields as Ukio, nor were any other planet's foodstuffs considered of the same quality as those nurtured in Ukian fields.

Ukio's climate and size are major factors for this productivity (it's growing season is basically the entire Ukian year) but the culture and government of Ukio play a major role. The planet's three continents are nothing more than giant grid works of perfectly maintained fields, with only small intrusions from the planets few cities (which are regulated to keep their size small and pollution levels at near non-existent levels). Crop rotation cycles are a major part of Ukian law. The mighty Ukian Farming Bureau, which oversees all agricultural activity on the planet, zealously enforces all major regulations and is larger in size than the Ukian military.

Private agricultural companies, even intergalactic ones, are allowed to work on Ukio provided they follow the regulations set up by the Ukian Farming Bureau. Dozens of Ukian companies exist; they control over 95 percent of all of Ukio's production. The reason for such a Ukian dominated landscape is due to a regulation that forces every farming company that wishes to sell products off-world to sell all of its goods to the Ukian Farming Bureau, who will they re-sell it to the galaxy as a whole. For Ukian companies this is not a problem, as the Ukian Farming Bureau's sales directly benefit them by financing government subsidies, and by lowering taxes rates, as the UFB requires less money to maintain. Off-world companies however, lose almost all their ability to profit from non-Ukian sales, and therefore don't locate there.

The Ukian Farming Bureau was using funds from its vast off-world sales, to finance the bid for the Annoo Licensed Foodstuffs Contract. The Ukian population, easily excitable by rumors and easily rattled by swift or unexpected changes and events, was wary about the bid. To top it all of, Ukio was coming to the end of one of it's 10 year political cycles, and would be selecting a new Overliege very soon.

The Ukian future, much like the crops for which it was so famous was in its first stage. The sowing of the seeds of today would shape the rich, or poor harvest of tomorrow.



Hilter Afdol had received back an answer for his comm-link communiqué.



He planned on reaping that bountiful harvest.

Ukio
The Silamt

"... so, in my opinion, Ferrier's innovation has the potential to change the way we do business. It's certainly on the cutting edge of its field, and if things are to continue as planned, with the expansion planning an everything, we must continue to be the leaders."

Yaher Dowec didn't respond immediately, instead cutting himself a rather large bite of his extremely expensive fillet and popping it in his mouth. As he chewed the succulent meat slowly, he looked at Jorelop Ferrier's publicist. The Ukian had barely touched his plate, which wasn't surprising, considering how he had spent almost the entire meal yakking away. That was his job, but Yaher was surprised anyone could resist the cuisine at the Silamt, which was considered one of the finest restaurants on Ukio. The look on the lobbyist's face was expectant, and so Yaher reluctantly let the glorious morsel slide down his throat. He softly set his fork down on the table, freeing his hands for use in his conversation.

"While I agree that technological advantage is a major component for success, it is not the only nor the most crucial."

Though he tried hard not to show it, the lobbyist flinched, as if he had been slapped in the face.

"Granted without modern technology we would quickly lag behind our competitors. But I think you underestimate a few things. Our laborers are the best in the galaxy, and when properly trained can outwork the best agriculture droids on a credit for credit basis. And, you forget that it is our tradition, and the many things that stem from it that allow us to do so well."

The lobbyist's face turned up, a smirk forming (which on a Ukian is a very odd gesture and is the equivalent of a dubious stare) and he started to say something, but Yaher didn't let him get a word in.

"Our laws and our culture are perfectly designed for maximum efficiency. Crop rotation has been maintained to such a strict degree that our soil is often said to be more fertile now than it was 200 cycles ago. Regulations on pollution have made it nearly impossible to start up any major heavy industry anywhere but in the ocean, and our inspection processes ensure that every quality regulation and output control is enforced 100 percent. Everyone accepts these measures, and it would be nearly impossible to change them.... the mere thought is blasphemous. Agriculture is not the business of Ukio, it is life. Ferrier's machines are good. But they cannot outdo centuries of instinct born into a Ukian worker. They have their uses. I won't say they don't. But there are certain things that just don't need to change."

The lobbyist blinked a few times, then shameless he began pushing more of Jorelop Ferrier's automatons. Yaher would have taken him for a complete idiot, if he didn't know that the Ukian was being paid big bucks too push an agenda. Jorelop Ferrier had his eyes set becoming the next Overliege. The publicist was just one of his numerous pushes to make him the most productive Ukian on the planet.

Yaher was a Ukian who could seriously influence Ferrier's bid for the position of Overliege. As a senior member of the Ukian Farming Bureau's management council, he had significant authority in shaping the policy of Ukio's most important governmental body. The management council had developed the plan for extra-planetary expansion. The management council set up the countless rules and regulations by which the bureau maintained the famous Ukian efficiency and level of quality. Only the Overliege held more power than council, and as the current Overliege's term neared its end his power waned. After ten years as the planet's governor, if he had not accomplished his goals he was not to get them done in the final weeks. For a short time, the management council would wield the greatest influence on Ukio.

Yaher spent about an hour more with the publicist, who droned on nearly the entire time. Yaher tried not to look too disinterested and concentrated mainly on enjoying his meal, for which the lobbyist had insisted upon paying for. When he was finished, he thanked the publicist for his time, assured him he would seriously consider the Ukian's proposal, and left the table.

There was no way he was going support anything the lobbyist had pushed]for.

As he left the Silamt he saw his long, luxurious landspeeder waiting for him. Slipping into the back of the vehicle, he relaxed into the plush seats, and closed his eyes. The lobbyist had tried his patience, and despite the excellent meal Yaher felt uncomfortable. The experience had left his tired and irritated. All he wanted to do was go home, lie down and sleep; get away from the fury of politics that consumed him by day, and have peace for a few hours.

A voice suddenly started him.

"Mr. Dowec."

Yaher's eyes shot open, and he saw that sitting across from him was a human. Not particularly familiar with many humans, Yaher had difficulty telling them apart and he couldn't determine if he was facing a male or a female. The human's hair was black, very straight, and he wore a pair of tinted glasses.

"What do you want???"

Yaher was tired and somewhat startled, but his voice held little fear. A ukian has little to fear from a human, especially one who appeared unarmed.

The human smiled tersely.

"We have a few things we need to discuss. There are some regulations I'm interested in....."

(wrong account, plz delete)

Garqi
Hilter Afdol's Office

"So Mr. Afdol, what can I do for you today."

A man, dressed in relaxed business casual, sat across a table from the CEO of Agro Inc. The best way to describe him was clean cut: his hair was neatly combed, his face cleanly shaved, his clothing well coordinated and impeccable. A pair of eyeglasses covered deep blue eyes that sparkled with intelligence. He held a large datapad in his left hand, and took a sip from a plastic glass in his right.

Hilter looked at Norman Evirtly, his personal accountant, across his large desk. Evirtly asked the same question every time Hilter summoned him to his office, and with good reason. Hilter Afdol very rarely summoned his accountant merely to discuss his retirement fund.

Evirtly handled Hilter's most critical financial business: from managing his vast network of personal wealth, to the ultra-secret transactions in which Hilter sent money (his own and his companies) to the coffers of the Union. Evirtly was paid handsomely for his services- well enough in fact, that Evirtly had dropped his own private accounting practice to deal solely with Hilter and those whom Hilter asked him to perform business.

Hilter entrusted Evirtly with some of his greatest secrets. Evirtly knew about the existence of the Union- not all the details, but more than anyone else who was not involved with it. Despite this fact, he had never asked Hilter to explain his involvement. He had never questioned why when Hilter gave him his orders. He did his job, did it very well, then went about his own business until he was summoned again.

"Acquisition. Ukio."

Evirtly nodded slightly but said nothing.

"If it's related to the Ukian agricultural market, I want to own it. Majority shareholds, complete purchases, mergers, however you want to do it, do it."

Evirtly leaned forward and rested his chin on one of his hands.

"It will be very expensive."

Hilter opened a desk drawer and removed another datapad.

"My accounts are all available... and I have a list of Sestrian accounts which you will be allowed to access. Spend them dry if you like. Just get the job done and get it done quickly."

Evirtly nodded. He took the datapad and then left the office. Hilter was confident that it would not be long before he owned Ukio. And if things went well, that statement would be true on more than one level.

The Past
Ukio

Though the hometown favorite and sector champion had been knocked out unceremoniously in the quarterfinals, the crowd at the Intergalactic Dejarik Championships had remained stable- which is to say, none of these hardcore dejarik fans had left the building. The finals were shaping up to be quite a showdown, with an upstart human, only 19, preparing to take on former champion and tournament favorite Pigrian Ridan. The elimination part of the tournament had been a dejarik fan’s dream, starting with the quarterfinals.

Pigrian, known by his nickname “the Bith Myth” because no one knew how he came up with some of his combinations, had won an exciting match against Will Garem III, the grandson of the famous Dejarik champion. Tiret Polik, Ukian sector champion and hometown favorite, had been bested in grueling game by the reigning champion Lowden Strider. The calculating Q3V-4D, one of the tournaments only droid competitors, had crushed his outmatched Devaronian opponent, setting up a semi-final with Hilter Afdol. The upstart teen had been called “pure dejarik genius” and had won a stunning upset over Garret Frester who was often considered the best Dejarik player in the galaxy never to be crowned intergalactic champion.

Thus, a set of titanic semi-finals had been made, with the champion from two years ago meeting up with last year’s champion; while two unknowns a human teen and a droid battled for the other spot in the finals. Lowden, had never beaten Pigrian and had won the championship last year only after the Bith had made an extremely rare blunder that cost him a semi-final match against the Corellian Sector Champ. Their game, was dominated by Pigrian from the beginning and nothing short of decisive. Meanwhile, the other semi-final match was equally intriguing. There had been rumblings that a droid competitor would be invincible, because of its ability to calculate every possible move and sequence in advance. Q3V-4D played notoriously slow, and had made nary an error during the tournament. Right before the match Afdol however had brazenly predicted victory, saying “I’ve beaten the computer enough when it was attached to the gameboard.” The ensuing match was slow, dull, and excruciating. But following up on his prediction, Hilter methodically beat back the droid and swept his pieces from the board, relying heavily upon his most powerful piece, the Kintan Strider.

And thus the Finals were set. The “Bith Myth” versus a greenhorn who had won a qualifying tournament and made an incredible run to the Finals. The match was played at the quick pace that made the game exciting. They traded pieces back and forth, Hilter racing around the board with his Kintan Strider, while Pigrian utilized the lumbering Savrip he smash through Hilter’s defenses. The game was decided in what would become immortalized as the “Ridan-Afdol Exchange”. Pigrian forked two of Hilter’s pieces, guaranteeing an unreturned capture. Then Hilter made an unorthodox move. He captured the forking piece with another creature that had been shielding his Strider from attack. Pigrian, believing he was exploiting a horrific blunder, took the strider. In doing so he set himself for a devastating series in which Hilter created three consecutive forks. He sacrificed his Strider, but retaliated with three unreturned captures, which was a crushing blow. Shortly after the exchange, the “Bith Myth” resigned.

The prize money for the match was a cool 750,000 credits. It was enough money to make a young Hilter Afdol stop thinking about anything else at the time. Though he didn’t know it yet, another, seemingly much more trivial prize would prove to be the most important award he received that day. As Ukio was hosting the tournament (which rotated around the galaxy), they got to throw in extra prizes as they saw fit. One of the things they gave away was a certificate granting Hilter honorary Ukian citizenship.