National Interests

Moff Hallas had been waiting for some time, possibly an hour at this point. There was an antique analog chronometer on the wall above him, its incessant ticking the only sound in the silent lobby. He had not checked the time, nor asked the secretary how much longer he would have to wait on Governor Wintrot. He had no intention of showing impatience. This was a tactic of Wintrot's; she knew that the despite the ostensibly civilian Imperial government it was martial in structure and nature. His title of 'Moff', the sharp Imperial uniform he wore, and the rank plaque on his chest all the trappings of the now galactic spanning military industrial complex. Wintrot knew how much it irked the Imperial officials to be kept waiting, knew that they thought themselves far more important than the backwater planet of Bakura and its governor. No matter. If she wanted to draw this out, than he would wait. 
Hallas was a relatively young man, for his position. He had served early in his career in the Republic Navy during the Clone Wars, and had moved to politics in the years following the formation of the Empire. He kept the look of a military man, his brown and now slightly graying hair short and tapered to one side. He had a sharp eye for detail, and a keen intellect for the machiavellian politics of the Empire. Hallas's green eyes and intensity made him look not unlike a green dragon of myth, hypnotizing or otherwise reading people's very thoughts.   
Hallas eye's wandered the reception room, taking in the relative minimalism. The building itself was fairly old, dating back to the days of the Old Republic, but its decoration and design belied the wealth that had built it. He had once heard it described as a mixing of Naboo's baroque architecture and the grandeur and sleek designs of Coruscant, built with Corellian industrialism at its core. This room was no exception; its doorways were framed stone with elegant filigree and designs reminiscent of the tall trees that surrounded the city. The stonework was expertly butted and inlaid against durasteel wall panels with sweeping curves to soften the rooms edges and transparasteel windows that overlooked the shimmering quartz outcropping the jutted prominently from between the twin waterfalls of the East and West river. Arden House sat proudly atop the outcropping, its own stonework framed by the yellow tree tops surrounding the estate. The reception room's various consoles and the secretary's own terminal were rugged and sturdy, more at home in a factory than in a bureaucrats office. To offset this, the wall consoles flaunted, rather than hid, the various conduit and network connections, flowing away in all directions like circuits on a computer board before melding into the polished wall panels. 
The walls of the reception were adorned with paintings that showcased the history of Bakura; the founding of the Arden Repulsor Lift Plant, the foundation of the Bakura government, an ancient civil war long forgotten. Behind the secretary was the largest painting, depicting a figure clad in white and gold robes, holding a lightsaber aloft that shined brightly from its aperture. Behind them stood various citizens of the Republic, all looking up to the light. At the bottom, proudly displayed, was the words "Light of the Republic" beneath a Republic and Jedi seal. Moff Hallas smirked at the painting. A relic of the bureaucracy and the high republic era, no doubt kept purposefully by Governor Wintrot. She was an idealist, and had been in office years before the formation of the Empire. He was reminded of a quote from the Jedi long ago, "There are no shortcuts on lights’s path. We strive. We repeat. We succeed." 
The Empire does not take shortcuts, he mused to himself. It is persistent. It does not stray or deviate from its goals. Failure was not accepted, and success came from the repeated and constant effort of Imperial might. Today, he too would be successful. 
At that moment, the door to Governor Wintrot's office slid open as she walked confidently into the room, amused with herself. She was a flamboyant woman, dressed in a brightly colored and fitting blue dress with a brilliantly colored yellow cape. She wore her hair up in a french braid, its long tail hanging down to her mid back. Her face showed little age, with hardly a wrinkle across her smiling face, though a slight weariness showed in her eyes. As she walked across the room to great a now standing Moff Hallas, she was flashing the genuine but flashy smile of a politician all too pleased with her machinations. "Moff Hallas, I'm sorry to have left you waiting. I hope it wasn't too long?" Wintrot clasped her hands in front of her, not offering a hand shake or touch to the Imperial Moff. Hallas did not bother either, having expected none. "The Empire is patient, Governor. But not too patient." he replied, showing her back to her own office. Her smile did not falter, but he could see the annoyance behind her eyes. Wintrot walked into her office, Hallas following behind as the door slide shut behind them. She sat behind her large desk, covered in stacks of datacards and a few datapads. 
"Moff Hallas, to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting with such an important Imperial Official?" She emphasized the word important, attempting to imbue it with as much thinly veiled sarcasm as she could. "Governor, if we could dispense with the charades and pleasantries I feel it would save us both time." Wintrot's face was now impassive. She knew why he was here, but she wasn't going to make it easy. Moff Hallas was not going to humor her. "I'm here, once again, to inform you that the Empire is nationalizing the Arden House Repulsor Lift Plant." Wintrot moved to speak in protest but Moff Hallas raised his hand, "We have discussed this at length, and you and Senator Goldati have both submitted your complaints to the Imperial Senate and to the Emperor. They have been acknowledged and denied." Wintrot was silent for a moment, contemplating. Moff Hallas sat, leg crossed on his knee, waiting for the protest and flowery words. She believed in democracy. The system had recognized her complaints, and had adjudicated them. She was an idealist, but the system had changed outside of her ideals. 
Wintrot rose from her desk and walked to the window that overlooked the plant and Arden House. Hands clasped in front of her, she did not speak for a moment. She stared out over the plant that had given life-blood to her planet for hundreds of years, and grand estate of its founders and owners. Arden House was the most powerful noble family on the planet and throughout the galaxy, beaten only by the Mid-Rim and Core Worlds oligarchs and industrialists. The Empire's enormous orders and contracts had created far more jobs and revenue for the plant and the planet. But they needed Arden House and the Arden Repulsor Lift Plant far more than they needed the Empire. "Moff Hallas, it would be no more possible for the Arden Plant to be nationalized than it would be for the Empire to plot out the sun." Hallas did not react, waiting for her to finish. Wintrot turned and faced him, her smile and joyous appearance replaced with a grave and serious frown. "Arden House, and the people of Bakura, are the rightful owners of the plant. While we appreciate the business and prosperity the Empire has brought to our planet, nationalizing such a critical resource would be detrimental. It would be downright dangerous. What would stop the Empire from simply denying business to competitors, or from automating the plant against the people's wishes?" 
Moff Hallas uncrossed his leg, sitting forward to listen more intently to what he sure was bound to be a passionate, if ill-advised, speech. "The Empire has already dictated oppressive security measures onto the plant, as well as the planet. We are hosting a major military installation, tax free I may add, on highly desirable property. Bakura, and this sector, are peaceful. Our corporate security fleet was more than adequate to handle any threats in the region, but we relented and agreed to the security measures in the interest of continuing to entertain Imperial business. I have allowed the Security Bureau to review all of the planet's security force personnel, and followed their recommendations. The people of Bakura have relented enough of their freedoms in exchange for your business. Arden House and my government will not allow this Imperial overstep."
Hallas waited patiently as she continued her rant, going on and on for some minutes about the will of the people, democracy, and the rule of law. At this point, Hallas interjected, "Governor Wintrot, the rule of law has been applied. It has been voted on and passed by the senate, and personally endorsed by the Emperor." Hallas stood from his seat, walking to join her by the window. He looked over the plant, and Arden House while Wintrot looked away and across her office. "Governor what you must understand is that your brand of...idealism...no longer has a place in the Empire. I believe, that you believe, that you are simply attempting to enact the will of the people. Please, ask yourself, it is in the best interest of the people to work long hours, manually manufacturing repulsor lifts? It is in the best interest of the people to do so for middling wages, when the work is grueling? I am aware of your planets hang ups on droids, of course, but I can't help but notice that Arden House has no such qualms." Hallas mused aloud, watching as a small flying droid trimmed a namara tree on the grand estate. He turned around, facing an angry Wintrot who was now standing crossed arm in the center of her office. Hallas remained at the window, hands clasped behind his back. "Would it not be better for the plant to be automated, for their jobs to become easier? With the Empire's need for your repulsors, there would be no reduction in work, or lay offs. The Empire wants what is best for all its people. Not just here on Bakura, but for the galaxy." 
"And do you suppose that the bureaucrats in Coruscant, the economists with their graphs and logisticians with their figures can see what the people of Bakura need? Does Emperor Palpatine, who I doubt could even point us out on a star chart?" Wintrot retorted, sarcastically emphasizing the title. "It will not happen, Hallas." Hallas smiled slightly, amused by the nativity and bravado of the governor. "Governor Wintrot, what you fail to understand is that you have no choice in the matter. The Emperor has decided, and his will is the will of the people. Not just the will of Bakura's people, but the will of the Empire's people. It is already done. You can either submit to the change, or you will be removed." Wintrot attempted to protest, but Moff Hallas raised his hand to silence her. He turned to face the plant through the window once more. 
"What is it you said, Governor? That it would be no more possible than for the Empire to plot out the sun?" There was a dull, deep thud from high above the plant, the sound of a large ship entering real space just inside the planet's orbit. The massive form of an Imperial Star Destroyer slowly pushed aside the clouds above, slipping into full view, its shadow cast onto the ground beneath. As it slowly maneuvered into position high above, its hulking form passed in front of the midday sun, casting its long shadow across the plant, Arden House, and the government building beneath it.