You can make a lot of cash in war, especially a galaxy sized war. Yet, with the exception of "liberating" a few choice starships, I tried to stay away from making too much profit from either side while the blasters were still firing. Both the Republic and the Brotherhood would have torn me apart if I had pushed my luck too far during the height of the conflict. I knew my limits. I was a businessman, not a target.
However, the war was finally over. The Jedi had won, the Brotherhood of Darkness was a scattered memory of ash and glass, and now was the time to make serious dough. Reconstruction is always more profitable than destruction if you have the infrastructure to support it.
Scrap yards and salvage companies were in hog's heaven as the remnants of the Brotherhood of Darkness were harvested for every scrap of durasteel and circuit board. I didn't just buy the scrap; I bought an entire glassed planet. It was a scorched rock of no interest to the Republic, but it was perfect for me. I filled it with enough high grade salvage to keep my Eden ship fleet in production for decades to come.
While the Republic was busy patting itself on the back, I cut out a section of the galaxy for myself near Hutt space. The Hutt clans had their big, fat, sweaty hands in all kinds of pies, mostly the illegal variety. A myriad of illicit businesses was how the Hutts made their money, but their reputation also caused the Republic to apply heavy embargoes, sanctions, and trade restrictions. I saw a massive opening where others saw a dead end.
My understanding of the timeline was inconsistent because of the dozens of different calendars used in this era, but I knew one thing for certain. Despite how messy the galaxy got and how many billions died, the Hutts were always able to persuade the superpowers, even the eventual Empire, not to attack them directly. I wanted that kind of diplomatic immunity.
"If the slugs can stay untouched, so can I," I told Unit 5 as we looked at the star charts. "But I need them to see me as a partner, not a rival."
I knew I would have to make deals with the Hutts. New arrangements would have to be negotiated every time a different Hutt climbed the greasy pole of power, but it was better to have them on my side. It would never be a stable partnership. The Hutts would consistently probe the deals to see what they could get away with, but as long as there was plenty of cash to be made, the Hutt Council would see me as an ally or perhaps a very valuable pet.
I started by clearing the debris from the hyperlanes in my sector. I gave free passage to the Hutts to trade whatever they wanted, including their smuggling runs. In return, my sectors were guaranteed to be free from raids by pirates, slavers, and the usual scum that haunted the Outer Rim. My own vindictive reputation, combined with the Hutt's shadow, created the safest place in the galaxy right next to one of its most lawless.
I bought more territory and traded with everyone. My number one rule was to share the wealth. I made sure every local governor and crime lord got a nice piece of the pie. This caused my own percentage to shrink slightly, but when the pie is the size of a galaxy, a few percent doesn't matter. My empire was stable, profitable, and expanding. The Republic eventually changed their maps to include my new sectors. Right beside Hutt space, the region was officially named Bee's Grove.
Bee's Grove hosted many planets that held nothing but Eden ships, growing the galaxy's food. I regularly sent presents to the Hutts: massive containers of hard to produce delicacies like Klatooine paddy frog pate or wiggling slow grub worms. It was a pleasant, profitable arrangement.
Speaking of profits, a breakthrough occurred when a Carosite female named Miri created a perfect counter agent to the galaxy's second most used illegal drug. She had developed it in the hopes of relieving the suffering of addicts, but she had the foresight to realize that her life was now in grave danger from the cartels that produced the drug. That was where I came in.
The Carosite were almost perfectly peaceful beings. They saw all life as sacred, which molded their culture into one of passive healers. In my opinion, they were what the Jedi should have been: genuinely helpful without the lightsabers and the self righteous posturing.
I met Miri in a secure garden on my primary Eden ship. She looked frail, her large eyes filled with a mixture of hope and terror.
"They will kill me for this, won't they?" she asked, clutching a small vials of the counter agent. "The syndicates do not want a cure. They want customers."
I patted her hand, my fat suit rustling softly. "In the Grove, Miri, people only die when I say so. I'm giving you a world and all the resources you need. In return, I retain one hundred percent ownership of the counter agent, and you have my word it will be used to help the masses."
"But how?" she pressed. "If you sell it, the dealers will burn your halls."
"I'm not going to fight them, Miri," I smiled. "I'm going to hire them."
If I were stupid, I would have just placed the counter agent in my Healing Halls for a small profit. Instead, I made calls and found all the major producers of the drug. I offered them a very profitable deal. Everyone gets a piece of the pie.
Illegal drugs were highly addictive and sold well, but the market was stunted by the social stigma and the constant risk of legal repercussions. I started a legitimate corporation surrounding the once illegal substance. I folded the old producers into my new firm. They produced the legal version of the drug, now infused with the counter agent, for a massive payout. The smart ones took stock options.
The drug was rebranded as a reliable "entertainment product" at reasonable prices. No one would lose their homes trying to get their next fix, and overdoses were a thing of the past thanks to Miri's counter agent and our unified production standards. The price per unit went down, but the volume of sales went through the roof. People would use the drug to get a nice hallucinogenic high after work, and when it was time to pick up the kids or head back to the office, the counter agent would kick in, making them functional members of society again.
"It's brilliant, Master Bee," Unit 5 noted during a quarterly review. "The old dealers are now legitimate stockholders. The death squads have vanished because there is no competition to kill. You've turned a black market into a cornerstone of the regional economy."
The Hutts were fascinated by what I had done. They loved the idea of making their illegal gains into something the law couldn't touch. I pumped more cash into Miri's research, and soon more Carosites joined her, performing medical miracles. When breakthroughs happened, I incorporated them into the corporation or Bee's Healing Halls. The big Hutt clans were with me because they understood that crime was just a business, but not all Hutts were smart.
A group of low level, young Hutts thought I would be an easy target. They had a "coming of age" rite where they had to make it on their own without the council's help. These young slugs didn't have the best information gathering skills. They kidnapped a kid named Kael while he was visiting a podracing track. Kael was from a family of well respected farmers who operated twenty seven of my Eden ships. The family paid the ransom, but the Hutts didn't release the boy. Then, the idiots tried to ransom the kid to me.
"They want forty percent of the Grove's monthly earnings," Unit 5 reported, sounding as close to offended as a droid can get. "They claim they will kill the boy if you do not comply within the hour."
I felt a cold, familiar anger rise in my chest. These young Hutts had been shielded from the reality of who I was. Their enemies had likely blocked any footage of my time with the Brotherhood of Darkness to lure them into this very mistake.
I made a quick check with the Grand Hutt Council. "Do these three younglings have protection?" I asked the holographic representative.
The elder Hutt just chuckled, a wet, gurgling sound. "They are on their own, Bee. If they are too stupid to breathe, they are of no use to the clans. Do what you will."
I decided to take care of this myself to send a message. Finding their base was so easy I thought it was a trap. It wasn't. They were just that incompetent.
Using a subtle Force illusion to make myself look like a flickering shadow, I walked right past their hired muscle. I searched for Kael using the Force and found him locked in a cramped durasteel box in the basement.
I pried the box open. The poor kid was bruised and shaken, but his eyes were fierce. "Are you here to kill me?" he whispered.
"No, Kael," I said, lifting him up. "I'm here to take you home. But first, we need to talk to your hosts."
I walked into the main room where the lead Hutt was lounging, surrounded by a dozen goons. I didn't hide anymore. I just knocked on the door and walked in with the boy in my arms.
The look on the giant slug's face was priceless. He saw a human the size of himself casually stroll into his sanctuary.
"You've been a very bad and stupid Hutt," I said, my voice dropping an octave.
The Hutt started to bark an order, but I flicked my wrist. The guards didn't even have time to raise their blasters. I snapped their necks with the Force in one fluid motion and tossed their bodies into a heap in the corner.
What followed was a masterclass in pain. I used my medical knowledge, the same knowledge I used to heal thousands, to do the opposite. I kept the Hutt alive with the Force and my advanced tech while I dismantled his arrogance.
"The lesson for today, slug," I whispered as he screamed, "is that there are repercussions for touching what is mine."
I recorded the whole thing. I ripped out his tongue, shattered his spine, and twisted his flesh into a nightmare of anatomy. Finally, I burned his eyes out of his skull so that my face was the last thing he would ever see. When I was finished, I stuffed the dead gang members inside his hollowed out carcass and pushed the whole mess out of the twenty first floor window.
The impact in the street below was a disturbing, wet sound that echoed through the district. I made sure the recording found its way to every public holonet frequency in the sector.
"What is mine is mine," I said to the camera before the feed cut. "What is yours is yours. Do not confuse the two."
It took a lot of bribes for the Republic law enforcement to look the other way, and even more cash to keep the recording from being censored, but the message was crystal clear. I wasn't a soft target. I was a monster who wore a fat suit and sold bread.
A few hundred thousand complaints followed from the more sensitive citizens, but the Hutts were silent. They respected the brutality. As a finishing touch, I donated the young Hutt's ill gotten assets to local charities and gave Kael's family two brand new Eden ships.
"Master Bee," Unit 5 said as I returned to my office. "The Hutt Council has sent a gift. Three crates of vintage spiced wine and an official apology for the 'minor inconvenience'."
I sat down, my fat suit creaking. "Good. Now, tell the Carosites to start work on the next project. I want a cure for spice lung by the end of the year."