[LTC - P17 - Farstine - FZ] L&O - The Long Arm of the Law

On the planet of Farstine...

The landing platform of the Farstine Enforcement Security Patrol station churned with noise and commotion.

Floodlights cut through the methane haze as an enforcement interceptor descended onto the landing pad, its engines rattling the rusted durasteel beneath Carm's boots. Steam blasted from rooftop vents. Warning klaxons droned somewhere deeper in the structure. Officers in pressurized gear moved prisoners through checkpoint corridors while maintenance crews hurried between machinery with tools in hand.

The whole place felt less like a police station and more like a refinery barely held together by synthtape. Yet somehow, against all odds, it worked.

Carm watched officers move with practiced efficiency despite the patched armor, aging equipment, and exhaustion visible beneath their rebreathers. "FESP" had existed on Farstine in one form or another for generations, though during the Imperial years they'd been little more than auxiliaries beneath stormtrooper battalions and corporate security forces.

Now the Empire was gone, and FESP was all that stood between Farstine and complete collapse.

Pirates, mercenaries, corporate militias and syndicates alike wanted a piece of the planet's shipping lanes and industrial output. The people holding the line against them looked half-dead from overwork.

Captain Bren Vohl stood near the edge of the landing platform, trench coat pulled tightly against the toxic wind. The glow of refinery flares reflected faintly off his rebreather as he studied Carm with open suspicion.

Farstinians were wary by nature. Survival demanded it. The fact Carm represented a rising syndicate didn't exactly help.

"You've made a name for yourself," Vohl said at last. "Ghost of Barkesh." His voice was rough from years of breathing filtered air, and probably more than a few death sticks at the end of a long shift. "I try not to concern myself with underworld politics. But I pay attention when new syndicates start circling my planet."

Carm met his stare evenly. "Then let's skip the formalities, Vohl." He caught the irritation in Vohl's posture before correcting himself. "Captain Vohl. You and I both know Drego Karsk is bleeding this world dry."

Vohl shoved his hands deeper into his coat. Wind howled across the landing pad, carrying the sharp chemical scent of methane and refinery smoke.

"You're talking about your old crew," the captain replied. "You ran with those pirates. How do I know this isn't some elaborate setup?"

Carm slowly raised his mechanical arm, servos whining softly as ash drifted past chrome fingers.

"You think I'd lose an arm committing to a long con?" That earned the faintest shift in Vohl's posture.

"I want Drego gone," Carm continued. "And when he's gone, Farstine gets stability for the first time in years."

A cargo loader groaned nearby as workers unloaded crates from a freighter bearing the Flame's markings. Carm gestured toward them.

"I didn't come empty-handed. Medical supplies, ammunition and replacement filters. Equipment your officers desperately need." He paused. "No strings attached."

Vohl's eyes flicked toward the crates. Carm could practically see the calculation happening behind his eyes.

"You expect me to trust the Flame of Zhar?" the captain asked. "Syndicates don't hand out charity."

The interceptor behind them hissed as its cockpit canopy opened. A ground crewman rushed forward to refill its tank- it was clear the officers here didn't sit still for long.

"Okay, some strings attached," he admitted. "But I'm not Drego- I don't want chaos, I want profitability."

Carm reached into his coat and produced a polished credit chip, rolling it across his mechanical knuckles. The metal clicked softly between his fingers.

"Credits rule the galaxy, Captain. Right now Drego's choking Farstine's economy to death. Shipping's collapsing. Businesses are paying protection just to survive." Carm stepped closer. "You know as well as I do that the pirates never offered you partnership, only extortion."

The landing pad fell quiet save for the endless industrial rhythm surrounding them- the pounding machinery, shrieking pipes, distant refinery blasts. Vohl watched his officers moving across the platform. They were tired, overworked, and desperately trying to keep a dying world alive.

Finally, the captain exhaled slowly through his rebreather.

"If I let your syndicate gain a foothold here," he said carefully, "and this turns into another occupation- another gang war- I won't bother with a cell. I'll put you in that toxic ground so far down your fellow gangsters will never find you." Carm had to smile- that was the frontier lawman shining through the uniformed commander in front of him. He gave a small nod. "Fair."

For a long moment neither man moved. Then Vohl extended a gloved hand. A durasteel one clasped it firmly.

"You have a deal, capo."

Carm tilted his head slightly. "That easy?"

"No," Vohl replied. "But if you actually pull this off..." A faint rasp of amusement slipped into his voice. "You’ll have done something I haven't seen in a long time."

"What's that?"

The captain looked out across the burning industrial skyline of Farstine.

"Surprise me."

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Meaurements: 27 studs L (slight overhang of the ship, ~2 studs) x 32 studs W x ~30-32 studs H

Better shot of the build with the ship landed

I had some fun working with new angles for this build- I've really been trying to make my vision from Farstine sell a harsh world with industrial, brutalist architecture. This law and order challenge was fun too since it gave me a reason to have Carm and his crew align themselves with local law enforcement- something crime syndicates often do! We'll see how long the partnership lasts...

As always, I welcome any and all comments, critiques and suggestions for how to improve!