The Giant Corporations that Started in Night City

Chapter 347: The Empire's Financial Crisis! The Miserable State of the Stormtroopers!

Though this was technically an Imperial freighter, the cargo it carried consisted entirely of military supplies. As such, it was staffed with a small detachment of stormtroopers to stand guard.

However, when the ship's systems suddenly went offline, the stormtroopers were at a complete loss. With no better options, they resorted to patrolling the halls with the night vision systems built into their power armor, trying to locate the source of the malfunction.

While making their rounds, a group of stormtroopers heard a strange noise coming from one of the corridors. They immediately rushed toward the source of the sound.

Moments later, in the pitch-black corridor, a bright beam of light suddenly flared to life. The stormtrooper captain, catching a glimpse of the intruder, didn't hesitate to give the order:

"Enemy attack—open fire!"

In an instant, a torrent of blaster bolts surged toward Paul like a furious storm, death rapidly closing in on him.

But Paul had full confidence in showing up here for a reason—he had come prepared. If he weren't completely certain of his ability to handle the situation, he wouldn't have dared to reveal himself so openly.

Now, wielding his lightsaber with even greater ease than before, he deflected the incoming blaster bolts as if he were playing a game of badminton—each beam reflected perfectly back at its source.

Indeed, thanks to the emergency efforts of the research division, a new and improved version of the hardlight blade—2.0—had been developed. This version closely mimicked an actual lightsaber, now capable of deflecting blaster fire just like the real thing.

In the narrow confines of the corridor, the stormtroopers were packed tightly together. All Paul had to do was reflect the bolts back, and they would ricochet into the ranks of enemies behind them.

The troopers quickly realized the danger. They began retreating in a panic, calling for reinforcements to encircle the damn intruder.

"Fall back! Call for backup!"

But as the squad captain shouted to his troops to retreat, they made a horrifying discovery—the blast doors behind them had somehow locked shut!

No matter how many times they swiped their ID cards, the doors remained unresponsive. It was clear the AI Red Queen was behind this. The freighter's entire operating system was now under her control.

Trapped in the corridor, the Imperial stormtroopers could do nothing but watch in despair as Paul advanced. His lightsaber danced like a specter of death, carving graceful arcs of crimson light in the darkness.

One by one, the soldiers fell to his blade.

Their white power armor was no match for the cutting edge of a lightsaber. With a single swipe, Paul could cleave through both armor and flesh in one clean stroke.

At such close range, the stormtroopers had no weapons capable of stopping him. No matter what they threw at him, it was all sliced in two.

Before long, Paul deactivated his lightsaber and strode casually through the hallway, now littered with corpses—his calm demeanor reminiscent of a swordsman who could kill with every step.

With perfect coordination between Red Queen and Paul, they lured stormtroopers into tight corridors and then sealed the exits behind them, turning the situation into a massacre.

Paul and Chani worked opposite ends of the ship. Within half an hour, every last stormtrooper on board had been cut down.

Once the final group had been eliminated, Paul took control of the freighter. His first move after securing the ship was to reestablish contact with headquarters on the Dreadnought.

[What's your next move?]

The one responding to Paul was none other than the Transformer assigned to assist with the operation—Megatron.

"We'll disguise ourselves as the freighter crew and sneak past the planetary shield to get inside. Once we're in, we steal the Death Star plans."

"But once we have the data, it'll probably trigger an alarm, and the internal blast doors will go into lockdown."

"If that happens, you'll need to breach the planetary shield from the outside and extract us from Scarif."

Paul had already prepared for the worst possible outcome before this mission even began. But no matter how bad things got, he was absolutely determined to retrieve the Death Star plans.

"That Dreadnought of yours only gets one shot. You must not act until I give the signal. When the time comes—one strike, make it count."

Paul warned him firmly.

With the Dreadnought's immense firepower, destroying the planetary shield over Scarif wouldn't be a problem. But the Empire surely had contingency systems in place to reboot the shield.

That's why this mission needed to be a coordinated inside-outside effort. If Paul retrieved the Death Star plans but got trapped inside, all would be for nothing.

[Understood. No matter the cost—I'll get you out. You have my word.]

Megatron's deep voice echoed with determination.

It was their first time working together, but he wouldn't fall short when it mattered most.

"Thanks, Megatron."

After finalizing the plan with Megatron, Paul remembered the ship's onboard sentient AI and had it deploy a team of clone troopers from cryostasis.

These clones would join Paul in impersonating the Imperial crew. The crew roster had to match the manifest exactly, or they risked being denied docking.

In addition, the clones would help create distractions once inside, drawing Imperial attention away from Paul while he stole the Death Star data.

[Understood. Activating 157 clone troopers. Estimated arrival at your location in 13 minutes, 19 seconds.]

While waiting for the clones to activate, the Forerunner Sentinels from the Halo universe took on the role of engineers. They swiftly patched up the freighter's damaged hull.

They then used hardlight beams to incinerate the bodies littering the ship, salvaging only the stormtroopers' gear. Once the armor was reassembled, it was handed over to the incoming clones.

Thanks to the countless technologies the Megacorp had acquired along the way, nearly every starship in their fleet was equipped with clone troopers and Forerunner AI units like these.

With every department working in perfect sync, a fully equipped squad of clone troopers and Paul, disguised as the Imperial freighter crew, set off for Scarif's inner perimeter.

Following a pre-programmed flight path, the ship cruised for several hours before finally approaching Scarif. From the cockpit's transparent viewport, Paul could now see the blue planet up close.

Just as the intel described, the entire world was completely sealed off by a planetary shield. Even communication signals were disrupted by the shield's interference, causing intermittent signal loss.

Once the shield fully locked down, all communication from inside would be cut off entirely.

That's why Paul had to send a distress signal before the Imperial garrison realized anything was wrong—otherwise, Megatron outside would never receive his command.

"Let's hope this goes smoothly…"

Standing on the ship's upper orbit, Paul looked down through the viewport at the stunning world below, silently praying.

If he made it out alive, the merit from this mission would finally allow him to stand tall before his father, Duke Leto.

Before long, the freighter reached the gateway of Scarif's shield system. Three Imperial-class Star Destroyers floated in defensive formation, stationed at equidistant points around the planet.

Their job was to buy time for the shield to fully seal in the event of an emergency—even if the gate were destroyed, the rest of the shield would remain intact.

"Alright—move out!"

At Paul's command, the clone troopers dispersed to their assigned stations and smoothly passed through the entry checkpoint in accordance with the prearranged procedures.

As the freighter glided over the skies of Scarif, a towering fortress-like structure came into view—immediately catching Paul's attention.

From its militarized architecture, it was highly likely that this building housed the Death Star schematics.

Shortly after, Paul received confirmation from headquarters—this was indeed the Citadel Tower, Scarif's signature facility.

It served as the central repository for all of the Galactic Empire's military engineering data—naturally including the Death Star's design files.

[Landing gear locked. Beginning descent.]

As the freighter deployed its landing gear and slowly descended onto the designated platform, a squad of stormtroopers approached for a standard cargo inspection.

But Paul had planned for this scenario long in advance. While the clone captain stepped forward to deal with the incoming troopers, Paul and Chani slipped away unnoticed.

Using the nearby infrastructure as cover, the two made their way toward the core of the Citadel.

Meanwhile, the clone troopers—disguised as stormtroopers—cooperated fully with the inspection process, moving crates in the opposite direction of Paul's escape route.

This was a deliberate strategy to draw defenders away from the Citadel's interior and give Paul the best chance to retrieve the Death Star plans undetected.

But complications came quicker than expected.

Paul had barely made it a few steps when he noticed the heavy security presence surrounding the Citadel—far beyond standard garrison forces. Among them were soldiers from the Empire's elite guard.

Most striking of all were the Death Troopers—clad in jet-black power armor, these were top-tier stormtroopers equipped with superior weapons and specialized gear.

They carried anti-lightsaber weapons such as electrified batons, ray shields, and electromagnetic armor—gear specifically designed to counter Jedi attacks.

Even more alarming: embedded within their formation were Imperial Inquisitors.

These were Force-users conscripted by the Empire—many of whom were once Padawan learners of the Jedi Order. Now, they served as official enforcers of the regime, wielding double-bladed red spinning lightsabers as their signature weapons.

Their presence made Paul's already risky mission even more daunting.

Clearly, the defection of a previous pilot had tipped off the Empire. They now suspected the Death Star plans might be stolen, prompting a significant reinforcement of Scarif's defenses.

"They've deployed this many Force-users? There's no way the two of us can break through them alone."

Chani frowned deeply as she observed the situation around the Citadel. Their earlier actions on Jedha had clearly heightened the Empire's alert levels.

Paul stared at the scene, momentarily lost in thought. He could technically force his way through… but whether he'd make it to the data before it was destroyed was another matter entirely.

He couldn't take that risk.

"Let's wait for the clone squad. Have them draw the garrison away first."

Meanwhile, the disguised clone troopers had transported the cargo into the surrounding jungle and used the chance to disappear from the inspectors' sight.

Once they were confident no enemies had a visual on them, they followed the plan: removed their stormtrooper armor and opened up the crates.

Beneath the top layer of dummy cargo was their true payload—an arsenal of high-powered weaponry: Gauss rifles, blaster shotguns, laser particle cannons, hardlight sniper rifles, and more.

But the centerpiece was their latest trump card—the Mark X+ Anti-Hulk Power Armor. This suit combined features from the X-series armor and anti-Hulk technology, creating a new, devastating hybrid.

All the troopers had to do was activate the energy cores on their person, and the armor's individual pieces would fly into place using magnetic levitation fields—quickly assembling themselves around the wearer.

Now fully armed and armored, the clone squad looked completely reborn. Compared to the average stormtrooper, they were in another league entirely—vastly superior in both equipment and capability.

Back at the multiverse HQ, Jack Wells nodded thoughtfully as he watched the first-person feed from the clones.

He couldn't help but notice the stark difference between the Imperial Navy and Army in terms of resources and treatment.

The Empire's doctrine heavily favored big ships and superweapons, obsessing over Star Destroyers and Death Stars while doing everything possible to skimp on ground forces.

Compared to the well-funded Navy, the Army was like the poor cousin—barely scraping by. After paying for AT-walkers and ultimate weapon projects, there was barely anything left in the budget for infantry weapons.

All the Army got were mass-produced, mostly useless white plastic armor shells.

"Those poor bastards really got the short end of the stick," said Johnny Silverhand, standing nearby. "They're clones just like ours, but they come straight out of the factory dressed in plastic, waving around some decades-old blaster rifles like it's gonna save 'em."

"Ours, on the other hand? Custom loadouts, cutting-edge tech—we've got more gear than we know what to do with."

The Empire, he noted, had sunk all its money into AT-walkers, Star Destroyers, and the Death Star—while completely disregarding the lives of their soldiers.

Whether real or cloned, the rank-and-file were nothing but disposable assets to the Empire. Not worth the cost of keeping alive, let alone well-equipped.

"Looks like the boss was right," added Reed, joining the conversation. "The Empire's finances really are falling apart. Without the Trade Federation backing them, they're forced to dump everything they've got into Death Stars and starships."

Li Ang had already warned them: the Galactic Empire had a fatal weakness—its shaky financial foundation.

Palpatine had taken the risk of offending the galaxy's corporate families and trading powers by nationalizing the Trade Federation outright.

Why? Because the Empire was broke.

He needed those wealthy factions to cough up resources—one way or another—to fund the construction of Death Stars and Star Destroyers.

But the consequence of full nationalization was a massive drop in commercial vitality.

With no profit incentives left, merchants stopped bothering to generate wealth. The Empire's financial reservoir began to stagnate—money stopped circulating.

Nationalization without a parallel capitalist structure was nothing short of economic suicide.

By forcing the Trade Federation under government control, Palpatine triggered a massive boycott by the galactic business elite. They simply sat back and watched the Empire's coffers slowly dry up.

And that's how it showed on the battlefield—clone soldiers in bargain-bin armor, carrying outdated blaster rifles, getting mowed down like cannon fodder by Jedi.

These neglected stormtroopers were the clearest symptom of the Empire's growing internal weakness and decay.

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