47-48

Chapter 47: Chief Financial Advisor 

Ventus leaned forward, curiosity piqued. “So, you’re saying the records you’ve got include dirt on Ford Tonith?” 

“Exactly,” Semid replied matter-of-factly. “Evidence of Ford Tonith manipulating InterGalactic Banking Clan funds during his tenure, funneling credits to the notorious ‘Black Sun’ crime syndicate and the ‘Bando Gora’ terrorist group. Plus, proof he meddled in Hutt conflicts, dragging the Banking Clan’s name through the mud and exposing it to unnecessary risks.” 

Even though Ventus had braced himself—and already knew Hego Damask II was a shadowy puppet master—he hadn’t expected the waters to run this deep. To think this tied into the election for the co-chair of the InterGalactic Banking Clan! 

But now, having decided to take a gamble on Hego, Ventus felt like he’d hit the jackpot. 

The InterGalactic Banking Clan was a galactic heavyweight. Alongside the Trade Federation, Corporate Alliance, Techno Union, and Commerce Guild, it formed an oligarchy that gripped the galaxy’s economic lifeline. 

You could sum it up in one sentence: the Banking Clan was the largest economic entity in the galaxy, a behemoth that could make anyone’s blood run cold. 

And that wasn’t even counting Hego Damask II’s hidden identity as a Sith Lord! 

Ventus’s hands trembled slightly, a thrill coursing through him. His lips curled into a faint smirk. As someone familiar with the Star Wars saga, he knew who came out on top in the Banking Clan’s power struggle. 

San Hill, Hego’s chosen candidate. 

With that in mind, Ventus decided to hold onto Semid’s intel as a trump card. When the time came, it could secure him a hefty slice of influence with the future Banking Clan co-chair, San Hill. 

“If you’ve got access to such sensitive Tonith family secrets, your position must’ve been pretty high up, right? What did you do?” Ventus asked. 

“I am… or rather, I was a senior actuary and sector financial director for the InterGalactic Banking Clan,” Semid replied. 

“I’ll make arrangements to keep you under wraps,” Ventus said, wasting no time. “But you’ll need to pull your weight. From now on, you’re the financial advisor for the Fourth Group.” 

“Very well, sir,” Semid said, accepting without hesitation. Then he tilted his head slightly. “May I ask what the Fourth Group is?” 

“It’s a corporation, obviously,” Ventus said, caught off guard by the question. 

“No, I’m quite certain it’s not,” Semid countered. “There’s no record of a ‘Fourth Group’ registered with the Galactic Republic’s Department of Commerce. That makes your operation… extralegal. I have a mental catalog of every major corporation in the galaxy, and a group with a mothership this massive wouldn’t escape my notice.” 

Ventus nodded, unfazed. “What’s the fallout from that?” 

“Significant,” Semid said, crossing his hands with an elegant flourish, slipping effortlessly into professional mode. His long Muun fingers tapped rhythmically on the back of his hand. “It means none of your activities are protected by Republic law. Your colonial efforts? Not only will they lack subsidies, but they won’t even be recognized.” 

“I thought the Republic had no control over the Outer Rim,” Ventus said. “And subsidies for colonization? That’s a thing?” 

“The Republic’s grip on the Outer Rim is weakening, but it still exerts some influence,” Semid explained. “Colonization is seen as a way to expand Republic authority, so they incentivize it—as long as your colony pledges loyalty to the Republic, that is.” 

Semid’s delivery was crisp, confident, almost rehearsed. But Ventus saw through it. This was just the polished performance of a high-level executive, serving authority in hopes of currying favor. Ventus hadn’t forgotten the Muun’s panic when he’d rescued him—that was the real Semid, laid bare in the face of true power. 

Ventus leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, and said casually, “So, we just register a corporation, and we’re good?” 

“It’s not that simple, Mr. Tang,” Semid said, shaking his head. “Registration is just the start. You’d need a colonization permit, which comes with a tangle of agreements: colonial taxation, protection of native species, Jedi Order population censuses, mutual defense pacts. It’s a tedious process, but worth the time and credits.” 

“Credits…” Ventus frowned. “That’s exactly what we’re short on. But that’s why I’m appointing you as our financial advisor.” 

“It’s not an insurmountable problem,” Semid said. “From what I’ve gathered, you have independent manufacturing capabilities—that’s as good as credits. Allow me to dig deeper into your operations, and I’ll draft a business plan to kickstart our capital accumulation. However, given my… sensitive status, I should avoid public appearances. I’ll need an assistant. A droid, perhaps? I assume you’d feel more secure with that.” 

Ventus didn’t miss a beat, turning to the T-850 behind him. “From now on, you’re with Mr. Semid. Provide whatever materials or data he needs.” 

The T-850, sporting generic middle-aged humanoid synthskin, nodded silently and stepped behind Semid. Ventus couldn’t help but think of his original T-850, the one with the Arnold Schwarzenegger look. It had been damaged in a prior skirmish but should be nearly repaired by now. He’d have to get it reassigned to his side soon. 

Semid stood, bowing slightly to Ventus. “I’ll need some time to recover physically. With your permission, I’ll take my leave, Mr. Tang. Once I’m fit, I’ll serve as your financial advisor in full.” 

“Rest well,” Ventus said with a nod. 

As Semid left, Ventus allowed himself a satisfied smile. The conversation alone proved this Muun was a master of his craft. Recruiting someone so intimately familiar with the Galactic Republic’s economic system was a major coup for the Fourth Civilization. 

Chapter 48: New Achievements 

The biggest hurdle for the Fourth Civilization is the massive gap between them and the Galactic Republic. Right now, they desperately need someone with the right skills to align their economic system with the Republic’s, so they can cash in on that final wave of prosperity before the war hits. 

Semid’s arrival is like a lifeline in a snowstorm. 

Ventus isn’t worried about Semid getting any funny ideas. The galaxy’s a big place, but there’s nowhere left for him to hide. The moment he shows his face, the InterGalactic Banking Clan will have bounty hunters on his tail faster than you can say “hyperspace.” Semid’s only option is to stick with the Fourth Group, and he’s smart enough to know it. If he doesn’t prove his worth, Ventus won’t hesitate to “deal” with him—maybe even send a nice gift to Darth Plagueis while he’s at it. 

Feeling a bit lighter, Ventus strolls over to the viewport, taking in the bustling scene around the mothership. The area’s alive with activity now—shuttles and freighters zip back and forth between the gas giant’s five expanded mining stations. Between the Dawn Planet and the mothership, a steady stream of transports keeps things moving. After the latest expansions, they’ve got over 20 freighters in operation, plus another 100 mining transports that stick to space. 

Two massive umbrella-shaped research modules, each over 200 meters wide, float near the mothership, caught in its gravity and drifting along in synchronous orbit. One’s the Physics Research Institute, the other’s the Mechanical Engineering Institute. The engineering one’s grown a lot, with extra modules tacked on, making it even bigger. A 30-meter-long ship is docked outside, sporting two oversized turbolaser turrets that look a bit out of place. 

On the other side, there are two orbital shipyards. One’s still under construction, not quite finished. It’s a smaller yard for frigate-class ships—a rectangular assembly plant about 100 meters long, with a dozen or so engineering arms to hold unfinished vessels. Judging by the arms’ reach, it’s built for frigates up to 50 meters long. 

That’s the standard size for a light frigate, by Fourth Civilization reckoning: 

• Anything under 15 meters is a light starfighter. 

• 15 to 30 meters is a heavy starfighter. 

• 30 to 50 meters is a light frigate. 

• 50 to 80 meters is a heavy frigate. 

• 80 to 150 meters is a light destroyer. 

• 150 to 300 meters is a heavy destroyer. 

• 300 to 500 meters is a light cruiser. 

• 500 to 1,000 meters is a heavy cruiser. 

• Anything over 1,000 meters is a capital ship—carriers, battleships, battlecruisers, you name it. 

In the completed shipyard, a ship nearly identical to the one docked at the engineering institute is being assembled. This one’s turrets look more proportional, though. The ship’s frame is done, and automated arms on the yard’s supports are bolting on heavy armor plating. 

Around the unfinished shipyard, a dozen small engineering ships are hard at work. Construction crews pilot them, hauling pre-fab parts from the mothership’s manufacturing center and installing them on the yard. Looks like it’ll be a few more days before it’s operational. 

Ventus nods, grabs his comlink, and patches through to the research lab. Dr. Qu Xuewen answers, giving him a slight bow before saying, “What can I do for you, Administrator?” 

“Has the Hammer-class frigate research wrapped up?” Ventus asks. 

Qu nods. “Yep, finished two days ago while you were on Dawn Planet. Qi Jian was breathing down our necks, so we kicked production into gear right away.” 

“What about that frigate docked outside your institute?” he asks. 

“Looks a bit off, doesn’t it?” Qu grins. “That’s our first Hammer-class frigate. Those turrets are twin turbolaser cannons—salvaged from the wrecks of those three bounty hunter ships that attacked us. Way too big for a transport, so Professor Chi’s team is tweaking them, trying to figure out how to mount them on a frigate.” 

“Can I swing by for a look?” 

“Sure thing, Administrator. I’ll let Professor Chi know and set it up.” 

Ventus hops a transport to the Engineering Research Center. It’s his first time here—before, he’d only visited the engineering labs inside the mothership. This space-built facility is more compact, but it’s packed with cutting-edge gear. 

As they pass one lab, he spots a test firing of a medium blue-spectrum laser cannon. The 4-meter-long weapon is mounted on a frame, wired up with a tangle of cables and pipes. A technician gives the order, and the cannon fires a dim blue beam, hitting a target in open space. But the shot lasts less than a second before the pipes start spewing smoke and sparking. The team shuts it down, and a few techs in protective suits rush in with extinguishers, spraying foam everywhere. 

Qu Xuewen walks up, following Ventus’s gaze. She chuckles. “That’s the blue-spectrum laser prototype Guan Yan’s team sent over from the physics lab. Third test today. It’s way more powerful than infrared lasers, and the shorter wavelength means less interference and longer range. Problem is, our weapon platforms can’t handle it yet.” 

She steps over to the foam-covered cannon, shakes her head, and tells a nearby tech, “This prototype’s toast. Send the data back to Dr. Guan Yan. Tell her the energy relay’s parameters are too high. To work with our current power systems, she’ll need to dial it back at least 5%.” 

“Another 5%?” the tech groans, wiping his brow. “Dr. Guan’s gonna lose it.” 

“Let her yell then,” Qu says, brushing her hair back. “She’s cursing the stars, not me. You’ve got this—I need to take the Administrator to see Professor Chi.” 

“Oh! Administrator! Good to see you!” The tech notices Ventus and bows quickly. 

Ventus nods back, then follows Qu as she gives him a tour of the center, chatting away about the research projects and facilities. She’s nothing like the stereotypical academic he’d imagined—no social anxiety here. If anything, she’s got a lot to say, and she says it with a spark.