Grasping for the Stars

[Tony Maxwell]

Naboo. One Galactic Week Earlier.

"And so, as we enter this new year Maxwell Industries has the pleasure of christening the new Keren factory. With our promise that it will run cleaner than any other factory in the company. My father built the old factory in Oxon City back when he first started the company. It was a pinnacle of achievement for my family and while I would love to keep that factory open in my father's memory it would be a huge disservice to Naboo. The factory is old and crumbling, small and outdated. With this new facility we strive for a brighter, cleaner future. I have all of you to thank for that. Once a local company fueled by local people; Naboo makes Maxwell Industries strong and capable of competing in a galactic market. Again, thank you."

Force smile, cut ribbon. Wave at the wall of cameras capturing your every move; recording your every word. The podium was abandoned as he made his way to the limousine waiting for him; hovering gently in the air with all it's sleek, white panels and chrome finish. Eyesight was split second by second with each camera, with each beaming face; with each reporter screaming out a question while sticking a recorder toward his face. Well, as close as they could get from the other side of the rope and wall of men that separated him, Tony Maxwell; president of successful droid manufacturer Maxwell Industries, from the common people. More hand waves, disappear into limo. Relax. If only it was that simple.

"Your father never needed all this... this... hooplah to open a factory."

Looking sideways, Tony took in the face of his fellow passenger. The grizzled old man looked like he was a moment away from being confined to a rocking chair on a desolate porch in Dee'ja Peak. If it wasn't for the finely pressed suit and those sharp eyes he might be dismissed as just some old fart. Instead he was his father's old business partner.

"You don't agree Wilhelm?"

"When we opened the Oxon City factory we practically had to hide the damn thing. People weren't too fond of droids after the Trade Federation razed half the goddamn planet with them. It took just as much guile as business savvy to get the company off the ground."

Cheshire grin while a finger played in the curled locks dangling over his forehead. The look he gave Alberto Wilhelm caused the man to pull back slightly and look at Tony in a whole new light. "Guile, you say? We took a factory, droid hating planet and not only built another factory on it but did it in a better location, with a bigger factory. And the Oxon facility is still open while it's 'decommissioned'. It'll stay open for quite a while longer; doubling our production on this planet. This whole cleaner factory thing is just a publicity stunt to get the galaxy interested. A few new safety regulations here, a more efficient power source there. Hire locals to work the line and get some goddamn Gungans to bolster our public image. Naboo is just a launching point before we carry this momentum into the rest of the business year."

Wilhelm said nothing the rest of the trip to the hotel. He owned a family estate in Theed that had belonged to his father but he didn't dare go there. That place was an empty haunt that he would not wish to venture even on his best of days. Instead the local fancy shmancy Galaxy Swinger would do. While his people got his bags, Tony and Wilhelm took to the turbolift, but not before his personal comm wub wub'ed the latest Chronicshift beat. Pulling it free he lifted it to his ear. On the other line was Research and Development guy. Jurei or something. Names were hardly important.

"How are those specs I gave you coming along? Huh? Having trouble getting the power core into the chassis? That's an easy fix. What about the weapon loadouts? Too difficult to produce? We might have to get some outside help with that. See what Tagge has in their catalog. I'd hate to give those guys business but you can only do so much, right? Well, get whatever you can get done on the Type 5 and get back to me tomorrow. I just got some press releases and baby kissing to do for a few days then I'll be celebrating this little victory on Bespin. Yeah. I'll keep my comm on hand. Bye."

As he signed off, the turbolift opened and a moment later they were safely hidden away in his hotel room. The cheap decadence was already stifling. He couldn't wait to get to Bespin and be back among his own kind. Greater Javin wasn't so far away but there was something special about the corporate sector that just made his brain tingle all over. Everything was so fast and dangerous.

"Are you developing Type 5 droids Tony? Might I remind you that your father built this company selling droids to farmers. Agricultural and protocol droids are our specialty. He was always against battle droids. He said it was the one thing the galaxy didn't need."

"And might I remind you that my father shot himself in the mouth on a booze binge? We aren't playing by his rules. Not anymore. We saw where that got him. This is not open for discussion Wilhelm. Battle droids are the future of this company. The board agrees. Now, if you don't mind. I have a lot to do in a very small amount of time. Fools to abuse and assets to gain. Now if you don't mind, I have an interview later tonight and I must powder my nose."

Cloud City, Bespin. Today.

"Mr. Maxwell. We regret to inform you that Wilhelm has resigned from his position."

"That's unfortunate, but I will survive. Try to keep it out of the press for a few days. I'm on my vacation and I would hate to cut it short to make a press release."

With a boop and a click the comm was hung up and slipped back into a pocket. Soft, manicured hands adjusted the tie hanging around his neck and dusted off the expensive charcoal gray suit. No lint, no wrinkles. He caught his reflection in a passing window. Everything was perfect. Flashing his billionaire smile as he walked through the Cumulus casino. While a grand place in and of itself, Tony was not the gambling type and quickly passed by the various card tables and machines. His destination was beyond those petty entertainments. At the back of the casino was the most prestigious nightclub on Cloud City; Nimbus.

There was, of course, a queue at the front door. Not just anyone could get into a place like that, with their snobby bouncers and strict dress code. Taking a place in line, he waited, but it didn't take long for the bouncer to recognize him and wave him through ahead of everyone else. If anyone complained they could go space themselves. They weren't Tony Maxwell. He even tipped the bouncer as he passed by. It was less about being in an expensive, cultured hotspot and more about being among his own kind. The corporate sector elite could often be found here on Cloud City, and there was no other club like Nimbus.

Striding up to the bar, his smile as ever on display, he ordered Blackhole Whiskey; Corellia's finest, all the while drumming his fingers on the edge of the bar to the music playing. When his drink came he wasted no time lifting it to his lips and taking a slow, thoughtful sip of it contents. Oh yes. This is what he lived for. It was good to be king.

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

"Who jis that?" Sasseeri pointed toward the bar from her seat in the VIP area of the VIP bar in the VIP-est casino on Cloud City. She was, of course, a very important person. She sipped her wine and leaned back on the white leather seat, her bodyguards standing stiffly to the side and seemingly ignoring everything that was going on in Nimbus. Only the occasional twitch of their lekku as they communicated with each other betrayed that they weren't statues.

"Tony Maxwell," said the young man next to her, her assistant for the time being on Bespin. Dan-something or other. Sasseeri didn't bother learning names, especially if she wasn't likely to see the person after leaving and returning to Coruscant.

"Maxwell. Sounds... famjiljiarrr..." She squinted through the crowd of dancers on the floor between the bar and the VIP booths. He certainly looked like someone she would like to be familiar with.

"Maxwell Industries. He's the heir apparent, just opened new factory..." The assistant kept talking but Sasseeri wasn't listening anymore.

"jInvjite hjim overrr," she ordered, and the man snapped his mouth shut and nodded, threading his way to the bar.

[Tony Maxwell]

A pair of long legs in a short dress stalked past with strides that caught his attention. He played it cool, waiting until she was well past him to turn around and admire the much better view from behind. An observation was half formed on his lips before he remembered that he was here alone. A glance at the floor around him confirmed that, and he let out a small cough and turned back to the bar, leaning against the polished glass surface and shifting images and colors that played beneath. It was moments like this that he always thought of Jebb Wiggins, his best friend growing up. The guy had showed up on his doorstep a few years back asking for a hand out after losing his money at the races on a supposedly good insider tip. His wife left him and he hadn't seen his child in months, had been playing with drugs but wanted to get clean. All he needed was a few hundred credits for rent, rehab, and a new suit for his upcoming interview. All Tony had seen was a parasite, and he still remembered the sound the door made as it slammed shut. He knew he made the right choice, but he wondered if maybe he would have more friends if he didn't cut them all away as they fell apart. All children of business owners, big and small, growing up together and he was the only one that had not fucked up his life. People just slow you down, anyways.

A cough and tap on his shoulder dragged his attention away from the depths of his glass to a human with a very determined look on his face. "Ms. Reeouura would like to express an invite to her table." Tony laughed, mostly at the man's expression, but also because the name sounded like a mouthful of marbles, but the sound of mirth quickly and abruptly ended when he followed the man's gesturing hand through the nearby doorway and into the eyes of the indicated woman. Cizerack. Female. And now the name was less funny and more thought provoking as he recalled just who the name belonged to. He read a lot of tabloids and infolinks on the holonet while getting his hair done and waiting for business meetings, and he had heard the name. Tony knew he was a big shot, but he knew when he was out of his league. Anyone else he would have politely declined, but he knew she was the one who owned this club, and getting blacklisted would put a damper in his weekend plans. "Sure." He said finally, his charm faltering for only a moment before he collected himself.

"Sasseeri Reeouurra. It's a honor to meet you. When I woke up this morning I never imagined I would meet someone so prestigious, and beautiful no less."

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

She smiled. "You flatterrr, Mjisterrr Maxwell. How arrre you enjoyjing yourrr stay jin my casjino?"

Sasseeri snapped her fingers, and a fresh bottle of champagne appeared. She raised an eyebrow as if to ask him if he wanted any.

[Tony Maxwell]

"Very much so." Came his reply, the smile on his face never waiving for a moment. "It's the atmosphere. I do not even gamble and I could spend days here just enjoying the decor."

Champagne arrived at the snap of a finger, and Tony wanted a service like that. He'd have to hire a guy to just make stuff appear. At the offering expression Tony looked down at the half empty rum in his hand, and tipped it back, letting the two perfectly sized icecubes bob on his lip while the amber liquor sloshed down his throat. A sigh of satisfaction echoed from his throat even as he set the glass down. "I could never deny a good champagne. Drinking it always reminds me of my father. He had quite the wine and champagne collection at the estate in Theed."

It was the good memories, not the ones of a man falling apart under the stress, and definitely not the night they found him with a hole burned through the back of his head. Memories of a man passionate about his work. Putting his family first. He remembered watching him pour over the racks of wines, rotating the bottles, taking stock of the years, brands, and planets of origins. Tony didn't have the patience to grow the collection. It lacked the black leather, optic shaders, and slicked back hair style he preferred.