Birth of a flagship (ESD Construction)

[Darth Viscera]

OOC: Just RPing the construction of a 17.5km ESD which will be the Imperial flagship, sort of an Air Force One type thing for the Empire. http://pub24.ezboard.com/fgalacticmilitaryalliancefrm1.showMessage?topicID= 16.topic

IC:
The laborers worked feverishly at their posts, supervising construction droids and at times even laboring themselves. The work was tedious. The Agamemnon had been laid down as a Super-Star Destroyer Mark III, heavy-type. It was to be similar to the Executor in its size, the modern Imperial systems and the fact that it was an Mk. III being the only differentiating factors.

Five months into its construction, however, the Diktat had changed his mind. He wanted an ESD instead of an SSD. The hulls were not too dissimilar, as an ESD was 17.5 km long, and the SSD a proposed 17.6km. The shipyard boss had set to work designing the modifications which would enlarge the primary hull to accomodate the downword-protruding keel. It had taken three nights of subsisting on pure coffeine from Balmorra, a marvelous substance he had been recommended to by a glit-biter from Kessel.

The spaceframe was beginning to take shape. Once the structure was complete, the internal systems would be installed from bow to stern, then the external coverings which would make it spaceworthy would be added. As it was now, it appeared to be a mal-formed wireframe of heavy durasteel.

He had ordered the superlaser from Tierfon. It had been a peculiar comm-call, the Construction boss of the factory world insisting that such a thing would be monumental to produce. Indeed it is, he had replied. You are being paid to produce a monumental weapon capable of vaping entire worlds, and I expect the laser to arrive at this shipyard in fourteen months. If it arrives at this shipyard in fifteen months, the Diktat will be notified, and most likely you, my friend, will find yourself digging transverse trenches at Fatasshi.

After that little encounter, he quite expected that the weapon would arrive in thirteen months.

[Darth Viscera]

"Now, tell me again why it is that you have failed to reach your quota," the shipyard boss commanded. He was quite irritated, and an interrogator droid hovered nearby.

"Dunah seh chuta, neejah," the rodian replied. He had a bruised and dirty face, and blood trickled from his lip.

The shipyard boss turned to another rodian, a translator. This one was dressed in an Imperial uniform. A badge crossed with a T adorned his frock coat identifying him as a translator. The frock was fully buttoned, and he had his arms crossed, was shivering.

"Tell me what he said....and what in the flaming pits of tarnac is wrong with you?" he shouted, far more irritated now. How could he adhere to a strict schedule with a staff of incompetents, peasants and sub-humans? He must have accidentally killed someone's relative in requisitions.

"Sir, he says that he has not been fed in three days, and the life support system in my quarters is acting up. It's jammed at fifteen degrees celsius...Sir," he replied.

The shipyard boss cursed under his breath. Trillions of tons of resources were being fed to the TIE Devil factories daily....and he was left with the scraps. He removed his sidearm from its holster, and in one swift motion, aimed and fired at the Rodian laborer's head. The blaster bolt went clean through, and the laborer slumped to the ground lamely, fell into an awkward position. The translator glared at the shipyard boss.

"You didn't have to do that," he snarled.

The shipyard boss nodded.

"Hang his body from the meat hooks. It may encourage the laborers that work is paramount. I will speak to the Diktat, ask him for skilled workers and technicians to make certain our equipment functions correctly. A frozen worker can polish no more durasteel than a vaporized one."

[Darth Viscera]

"I just don't see how we can produce a field that size," he repeated. "In order to produce that much additional power we'd have to enlarge the ventral spaceframe again, adding an additional five decks for larger power generators. And that's just to get the power supply into the yellow range."

The sector chief nodded. "These are not my orders. They come directly from the Diktat. You have whatever resources you need, just get it done. If you have to enlarge the ventral hull, you have his blessings."

With that, the sector chief departed. The shipyard boss sighed. It would be difficult generating a cloaking field of that size. He would have to use multiple generators. More paperwork. He went back to his papers, and began filling out the requisition orders needed to get him the expensive generators.