you head to an inner circle meeting to discuss progress on your eight goals
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You transport directly to the flagship's strategic operations center. Your inner circle assembles within minutes—Victoria, Grace, Maxine, Athena, Tsunade, Riveria, Melissa, and Grayfia materializing through various means. A holographic display flickers to life showing Gion's face, her pink hair streaked with blood spatter.
"Economic recovery proceeds ahead of schedule," Victoria announces, platinum hair cascading over her leather-clad shoulders. "Banking Clan assets have been redistributed to planetary governments. Trade Federation routes now operate under imperial logistics. Corporate monopolies are dissolved."
"Senate reconstruction is tedious," Grace adds, adjusting her corset. "Every corrupt representative requires replacement. Every corporate influence must be excised. The bureaucracy alone—"
"It'll accelerate once the galaxy-wide transformation occurs," you interrupt. "Speaking of infrastructure—Coruscant requires dismantling."
Maxine's eyebrows rise. "Dismantling?"
"The planet has five thousand one hundred twenty-seven levels," you state flatly. "I want only ground level and the actual planetary surface preserved. Everything else gets removed."
Silence falls over the chamber. Grace's face pales. "Five thousand... that's—"
"Catastrophic environmental damage," Maxine finishes, horror creeping into her voice. "The ecological devastation from building that many layers... the disrupted weather patterns, the buried natural ecosystems, the geological instability from supporting that much weight..."
"The lower levels are essentially vertical slums," Riveria adds quietly. "Breeding grounds for crime, disease, desperation. The sunlight never reaches below level fifty."
Grace shakes her head slowly. "The Republic allowed this. For millennia. They just kept building upward instead of addressing the underlying problems."
"Exactly," you confirm. "It ends now. Dismantle everything except ground level. Restore the actual planet."
Gion's hologram flickers. She touches her ear, listening to something. Then her gold-ringed eyes gleam with satisfaction.
"Last crime family just got wiped out," she announces. "Hutt Space is clear. Total casualties—four thousand three hundred twelve criminal operatives eliminated. Eight thousand two hundred seventeen slaves liberated. Zero civilian casualties."
Victoria smiles coldly. "Efficient."
"What's our timeline for galaxy-wide transformation?" Grace asks, leaning forward.