As soon as the assault barge touched the thoroughly frozen surface of the planet Lur, the unloading ramp lowered with a crash.
Wind rushed to meet the armored vehicles, but the pilots didn't even pay attention to it, being in armored light vehicles.
Tychus, whose AT-RT was first at the unloading hatch, didn't keep himself waiting.
His "little one" had long been ready to move out onto the battlefield.
Like all the "little ones" of the AT-RT regiment "Rancor."
Assault barge, filled with AT-RT "little ones."
Landing of the "Rancor" detachment.
Tychus Roach as always in the lead.
The machine rose on its "legs" and stepped briskly down onto the snow-covered surface.
Gyroscopes and movable "three-fingered" "limbs" excelled at maintaining balance on ice.
However, the landing site was a fairly flat surface of a snow-covered plain.
But a five-meter hole in the ground (perfectly smooth!) made the man wonder if everything was okay.
"Move out, don't stand, Roach!" he heard the voice of General Jurgen in his helmet headphones.
"Yes, sir!"
Stormtroopers were already running ahead, who against the white background of the icy wasteland could only be distinguished with the help of the identification system, projected like other key parameters directly onto the transparisteel of the machine's viewport.
They landed in the first wave—ten minutes before the arrival of armored vehicles.
And in fact, this is already the rearguard of the invasion forces.
For the first time since their creation, the "Rancor" and "Blizzard Force" detachments are operating together in one campaign.
From "Rancor"—armored vehicles.
From "Blizzard Force"—"Snowtroopers."
"Snow" stormtroopers.
The latter, by the way, without unnecessary fuss, were already driving in special stakes and dropping ropes into this huge hole in the ground.
While they were securing descent mechanisms for rapid movement to the depths, Tychus didn't hesitate.
The onboard computer perfectly calculated the trajectory, so the machine, controlled by a man, simply made a small "jump" and plummeted vertically down on its support limbs.
Tychus hadn't even had time to enjoy the feeling of flight inside the three-meter, multi-ton machine when the support limbs slammed into a hard surface.
Gyroscopes maintained balance.
The AT-PT ended up at the bottom of a long tunnel five meters high, where it could calmly "stretch out" to its full height.
"Well, where to now?" Tychus wondered.
Unfortunately, there was no two-way communication with the surface as such.
There was an instruction that the locals would show the direction of movement in the tunnels—and that's it.
And literally at that same moment, he saw a fur-covered humanoid who was slightly trembling (cold, perhaps?) and pointing with his hand toward the left part of the tunnel.
Roach followed his hand.
Saw a luminescent sign hanging on the tunnel wall, pointing in the same direction.
"Dear stormtroopers! The enemy—is that way!"
Inscription in Galactic Basic.
With a couple of errors, but okay.
"They might as well have laid out a glowing path," Tychus muttered, directing his machine in the indicated direction.
The onboard computer indicated that another armored vehicle had landed in a similar manner behind him.
Unfortunately, neither the professionalism of the "Snowtroopers" nor their heavy weapons were enough to break through the enemy's defenses in the underground cities.
The "Blizzard Force" detachment had already deployed its armored vehicles, which fit the tunnel dimensions, for the offensive in the residential quarters where the enemy was dug in quite strongly.
"Rancor" was to support the 501st's offensive in the industrial quarters.
An AT-RT can reach a speed of sixty kilometers per hour.
From the side, it looks like a three-meter armored droid running, with a twin laser cannon and a grenade launcher in front.
Those who have seen an AT-RT run, entering battle on the march, don't laugh for a very long time afterward.
Because the only thing scarier than that is an AT-AT moving at full speed, spitting fire and trampling enemy infantry under its support limbs.
Following the signs, he crossed several kilometers separating him from the front line, after which, again, at the direction of the locals and their signs, he directed the AT-RT toward the industrial quarter.
Judging by the fact that wounded were being evacuated from there, and practically every cave was equipped with an infirmary, things weren't going well for the guys.
Tychus drove his 'baby' out of the tunnel, emerging into a huge cavern.
As far as the eye could see, battle raged everywhere.
The 501st Legion's Shock Troopers, using the sparse cover, were clearly being overwhelmed in their assault on this sector.
No wonder — from the opposite side, heavy emplaced blasters and rocket launchers were actively firing.
And no one seemed worried that these twenty-meter-deep caves, dug into the planet's body, might collapse on their heads, or worse.
Tychus directed his 'baby' towards a firing position the Shock Troopers were trying to set up.
They had positioned heavy weapons but couldn't start engaging targets due to the enemy's intense blaster fire.
Blaster shots began pinging off the AT-PT's hull.
The Snowtroopers got a brief respite.
They act fast, huh?
No wonder the Snowtroopers are currently one of the most numerous and well-prepared factions of the Dominion's Assault Corps.
Tychus activated the 'baby's' laser cannon, instantly forcing the enemy shooters to take cover.
The cover in question was a rather thick slab of skarn, jutting straight up from the ground.
A meter high, ten meters long.
You could hide several squads behind that.
The distance to them was considerable — one hundred seventy-five meters.
But, to their misfortune — not considerable enough.
Tychus used the grenade launcher.
The targeting system automatically calculated the elevation angle for the high-explosive fragmentation grenade launcher.
It also handles the 'spread' of the projectiles.
Three munitions flew in a precise volley towards the enemy.
No, they didn't destroy the cover.
Why ruin something they might need themselves?
All three shells landed neatly behind the fortification.
Unremarkable explosions — and no one was even trying to return fire from there anymore.
The nearest squad of Shock Troopers began relocating, not missing the chance to capture an important enemy defensive line.
Tychus, shifting his combat walker's position, supported them with fire from the laser cannon.
Spotting the enemy approaching the cleared fortification, he redirected the cannon there and turned the enemy squad into a pile of corpses.
Finally, the firing position he had been covering since his arrival on this battlefield started working.
Therefore, he could change position.
The comlink crackled with a terse request for help a hundred meters from his current location.
The AT-PT, nimbly lifting its legs, began moving, firing a couple more grenades into the tunnel from which a large enemy squad had emerged on the move.
Those not killed by the blast or shredded by shrapnel were finished off by the twin laser cannon.
Arriving at the spot, Tychus understood the problem without needing words.
A half-company of Shock Troopers was caught in crossfire that seemed to be coming from practically all sides.
The firing position he had protected a couple of minutes earlier was trying to relieve the pressure, but the enemy was also actively using available cover.
Specifically, heavy weapons fire was coming from the windows of small buildings, which, like other fortifications, were literally dug out by the native inhabitants from the earth and skarn.
Quite sturdy structures, though they rarely reached above two stories.
But excellent firing positions, extremely difficult for infantry to assault.
Due to the overall strength of the construction.
Using window and door openings as embrasures, the enemy also had an advantage over the Shock Troopers in terms of protection.
Not to mention being above them, with some of the attackers' positions in plain view for the defenders.
Tychus fired one grenade each into the window openings with the highest concentration of enemy troops.
Powerful explosions left no one inside any chance of survival.
Meanwhile, with cannon fire, he suppressed a heavy emplaced blaster in another window, forcing the enemy to take cover.
To the right, where the passage to the cavern was, two more AT-PTs appeared, and now the advantage was on the attackers' side.
Providing suppressing fire, Roach helped the pinned-down squad of Shock Troopers, making a dash along the right flank, to get right up close to the building.
Thermal detonators flew into the window openings.
A series of explosions swept through the first floor.
Almost immediately after, the Snowtroopers began the assault.
Squads, without a moment's hesitation, rushed inside the building through the windows and doorways.
Almost immediately, flashes of blaster fire appeared in the semi-darkness of the building.
Tychus's AT-PT took a burst from an enemy heavy emplaced blaster to the visor.
The transparisteel held, though it was covered with scorch marks at the impact points.
Roach changed position, pressed the walker against the building, and 'crouched'.
At that moment, fire was opened on his opponent from the position he had defended first.
The enemy's emplaced blaster fell silent almost immediately, having lost its crew.
Tychus moved the walker out from behind the building.
The Snowtroopers who had supported him continued to pin down the left flank with fire.
(Snowtroopers are far from gentle guys.
With guns like that.)
Roach fired the remainder of his grenade supply at the same target, ironing out the enemy positions with the laser cannon.
He spotted another unit of Shock Troopers.
This time, they weren't Snowtroopers.
Regular troopers from the 501st Legion, carrying extra gear on their armor.
Breakthrough squads, whose actions he supported with his cannons.
AT-PTs and stromtroopers advance.
It's obvious that Generals Cain and Jurgen are committing second-echelon troops to the breakthrough.
A bit strange.
Could the losses among the Snowtroopers really be that high?
More armored vehicles and regular Shock Troopers, developing the offensive, were appearing in the cavern.
Meanwhile, the comms came alive again.
"Roach," General Jurgen's voice sounded tense, "advance deeper into the industrial district. Need to link up with the Snowtrooper and Assault Commando squads attacking from the surface as soon as possible. The Vanguard squad of locals and General Ventress are ahead of you by a kilometer or a kilometer and a half. They're practically surrounded in the rear of the industrial district right now. The 501st will provide covering personnel."
"Copy, General," Tychus responded. "On it."
Now it's clear why non-specialist Shock Troopers appeared on the battlefield.
The offensive is being conducted on multiple fronts.
And besides, the vanguard squad is encircled.
His AT-PT scuttled towards the subsequent built-up area.
As did the other walkers.
The 'babies' didn't linger long between buildings, hosing down their windows and doors with plasma fire.
Several buildings couldn't withstand the onslaught and collapsed right on the defenders' heads when grenades launched by five 'babies' simultaneously detonated inside.
Tychus pushed forward, clearing the alleys between buildings with fire from his laser cannon.
The Shock Troopers moving behind him finished off any random survivors, periodically detaching fighters to clear buildings.
Nearby, a nearby walker, hit by a precise shot to a support leg, slammed its cockpit into the cavern floor.
Shock Troopers, without orders, rushed to extract the pilot, but several rockets struck the damaged machine.
The explosion tore the 'baby' to pieces, and along with it, wiped out the nearest squad of Shock Troopers.
Tychus, having shot up what resembled a fortified firing point, switched his attention to the spot where the rocket troopers had fired from.
The laser cannon plowed through the trench-like position cleaner than an agricultural plow.
The enemy position was practically at the edge of the cavern, and Roach realized with surprise that he had already crossed this entire underground behemoth created by the Lurrians.
And this thing was like five kilometers in diameter...
The enemy took cover.
Tychus increased the speed of his struts and approached the trench closely.
One of the militants jumped out of it, aiming a grenade launcher—or a launcher, Roach didn't have time to tell—straight at the 'baby's' cockpit.
The three-toed limb came down on the enemy.
The weight of the multi-ton AT-PT was transferred onto the enemy's body.
Tychus didn't hear the crunch of bones.
His walker pushed forward, towards a large tunnel, at the far end of which, apparently, was the vanguard squad, surrounded on all sides and led by General Ventress.
Night vision systems recognized everything in minute detail.
Including the flashes of blasters of all colors and shades three hundred meters ahead in the tunnel.
The onboard computer instantly displayed the disposition.
The squad was pinned on a platform, which was accessed by a good dozen smaller corridors.
And they were being fired upon from all sides.
Tychus considered such behavior incorrect.
A running AT-PT, firing its twin laser cannon—that's also not a fun sight.
Especially for those on the receiving end of the shots.
The weapon stabilization system allowed for super-precise pinpoint fire, which Tychus shamelessly used.
Near him, blaster flashes appeared from several more AT-PTs of the Rancor squad.
The positions of the nearest enemies turned into a line of fire almost immediately.
By the time the armored vehicles arrived on the scene, supporting the remnants of the vanguard squad with fire, the rest of the enemy forces began retreating into the tunnels, firing as they went.
Another 'baby' exploded.
But they managed to pull the pilot out before a rocket flew in from a distant tunnel.
Tychus hosed down the passageway with cannon fire.
Shock Trooper units advanced forward, maintaining unceasing fire on the retreating enemy.
The wave of snow-white fighters broke into streams, which, along with the relentless AT-PT pilots, pushed forward.
Tychus looked at the indicators on the instrument panel.
No grenades left.
Tibanna practically gone.
Enough for about ten shots, which is no good for continuing the fight—he'd turn into a defenseless target in a hundred meters.
This won't do.
"Lieutenant Roach to logistics support unit," he opened a comm channel. "Require ammunition resupply. Reference point," he checked the tactical map, "point six-two-six, platform."
"Copy, Lieutenant," came the reply. "Hold position. Transport is en route to you. Organize a gathering of vehicles with similar requests to expedite technical personnel work."
"Understood," Tychus contacted the vehicles of his company and relayed the instruction.
Then, moving his AT-PT out of the path of the advancing troops, positioned it to be least in the way, opened the cockpit, lowering it to transport position, and climbed out.
This area was cleared and could conditionally be considered safe.
Apparently, they were setting up a temporary supply point here—a very convenient location.
The Lieutenant stretched his neck and legs when he spotted, right next to him, the last sentient he expected to see in person.
"Got any Bacta?" Lady Ventress inquired in a tone that brooked no further questions.
Appeared as if from the ground.
Though...
Who knows, maybe that's exactly what happened.
"Yes, ma'am," Tychus handed her a field medkit without further ado.
The woman, without even thanking him, strode towards the remnants of the vanguard squad's position.
The Lieutenant, intrigued, followed.
In their encirclement, they had secured positions, taking cover behind transport containers.
Quite practical.
But too many dead Lurrians.
Though, there were still more enemy militants.
Everyone still alive from the vanguard squad fighters was wounded in one way or another.
And Ventress herself even looked...
Paler than usual, or something?
Well, she definitely had bags under her eyes.
The woman stopped next to a young man leaning against a transport container and tossed the medkit onto his lap.
"Patch yourself up," she said, squatting next to a local with an abdominal wound.
She placed her hands on the wound site, and a greenish glow appeared.
"I'm going to kill you one day, Teacher," sighed the guy, whom Tychus recognized as Kyp Durron, thoroughly smeared with mud and dust. "How am I supposed to bandage myself with wounds on both palms?"
"Think about that next time your brain switches off and you decide to stop blaster shots with your hands," Ventress said without looking up from her task. "I don't have time. The Lurrian leader is too seriously wounded."
"Brilliant," Durron unfolded his palms before his face, showing huge burns. "No, well, it worked once..."
Tychus didn't catch Ventress's reply.
But it was something about how it would be better if Durron's father had failed once... at something...
"Allow me to help," the Lieutenant had heard about the Dathomirian witch's temperament and thought it best to do everything to avoid further irritating her. "I'll treat it now..."
If she'd resorted to such a mode of communication, the General's mood was clearly not good.
What the hell happened here?
* * *
Orsan struck the opponent behind the knee, then drove his arm, which was gripping the neck, upward.
Thereby exposing the throat for a strike.
The combat blade held in his right hand entered the throat of the Zann Consortium militant.
Blood gushed forth in a fountain, foretelling a swift end.
The Captain freed the body from his deadly embrace, then looked at the airlock, which had become the site of the battle.
Four enemy soldiers lay dead, taken out by the spec ops team without unnecessary noise.
Not a single loss.
No alarm had been raised on the ship either.
So, all was well.
"Move out," Makino indicated the direction of movement.
The fighters, without a word, silently headed towards the next objective.
Orsan preferred not to think now about what would happen after this mission ended.
A tribunal for disobeying orders?
Or a dishonorable discharge?
No one could say for sure.
But the fact remained.
The blocking detachment of the "Raider," under the command of Captain Valum Vigor, had not executed the Supreme Commander's order.
Instead of opening fire on the enemy's cloaked starships, as per the instructions, the "Dominator" and its escort ships exited hyperspace without the slightest hint of aggression.
And this despite the fact that before the attack began, the "Guardian" had transmitted data on the location of the enemy starships under cloaking fields to everyone.
The Dominion's Interdictor Star Destroyers were jamming communications within the system, leaving only themselves the ability to communicate.
They 'spread' a gravitational 'net' and continued to pretend to be ordinary 'whippers'.
All according to the standard tactics of their previous appearance.
With the sole exception that, besides buzz droids, a spec ops squad had also left the starship.
The opposing enemy ships didn't know that five other squads had been attacked.
No comms.
Direct line of sight between enemy ship groups was impossible even with the strongest optical observation instruments.
Two frigates and one Zann Consortium Star Destroyer were left to their own devices.
The target chosen was the Vengeance-class frigate closest to the flagship of the blocking detachment.
It took some time to reach it using jetpacks.
A bit more precious time to board the ship and organize infiltration.
Now it was a small matter.
Orsan activated a disposable beacon.
A device operating on one of the few frequencies capable of penetrating the jamming veil.
The indicator on the transmitter changed from red to green, meaning the transmission was complete and received by the "Raider."
Which, in turn, meant...
A few seconds later, the "Vengeance" shuddered noticeably.
Then again and again.
The Dominion ships' turbolasers fired unerringly at the enemy, devouring its only advantage—the cloak.
Now the battle alarm sirens began wailing frantically.
But by the time such irritating sounds were echoing through the corridors, the fleet spec ops were already at their target.
Bursting into the reactor compartment, the five spec ops troopers eliminated the guard group on duty with precise blaster fire.
Following them, just seconds later, six mechanics responsible for maintaining the ship's reactor died.
Another minute was needed to clear the compartment of droids and those enemy crew members working in the adjacent engine room.
Forced to wear headphones due to the noise from the power plant, these "Zann" never learned that their "colleagues" had been killed some time ago.
Everything else proceeded according to pre-planned and repeatedly rehearsed scenarios.
Guards posted at each of the two entrances to the reactor compartment.
Control of the dead bodies.
The technical specialist's work with the reactor zone equipment.
"Found it," the trooper reported to Orsan after a good five minutes of searching. "The self-destruct system is active."
And clearly because the ship was being fired upon not only by turbolasers but also by ion artillery.
The enemy understands Dominion tactics well.
And knows that no commander of a regular Dominion fleet warship would use ion cannons on an enemy starship they intend to destroy.
The bridge crew of this starship aren't idiots either.
They prepared the ship for detonation in advance.
"Can you disable it?" the Captain inquired.
"The detonator is remote," the tech explained. "I can disable the primary and backup relays. The device itself is part of the reactor structure."
Meaning the ship's self-destruct was planned at the construction stage and isn't a makeshift modification.
"Disable them," Orsan ordered.
No relays—no signal to the detonator.
No signal—no detonation.
"An alarm will be raised," the tech warned. "The system is set to alert if the detonation circuit integrity is breached."
"But not to trigger the detonation itself?" Makino clarified.
"No," the tech assured.
"Can you then cut power to the ship?"
"The emergency reactor in the bow will kick in," the tech warned. "Gravity, life support, partial lighting will remain operational."
But weapons and engines—no.
Which means the "Vengeance" can neither defend itself nor escape the wrath of the Dominion ships.
"Then get to work," the Captain ordered.
There simply were no other options.
The tech's warning meant one thing—when the self-destruct system circuit is broken, the alarm will make the entire starship crew suspect saboteurs are aboard.
Which implies the appearance of a counter-boarding party.
The crew on this starship numbers fifty sentients.
The number of passengers or troops—a similar number.
Sixteen have already been eliminated.
Therefore, five spec ops troopers will have to repel an attack by eighty-four "Zann" personnel.
"Had better odds," Orsan sighed, ordering the squad to prepare to repel the attack.
Spec ops has a rich arsenal of means to eliminate the enemy.
Including magnetic mines, which the spec ops generously scattered in the corridors leading towards the reactor and engine compartments.
All that remained was...
The first explosion sounded when the spec ops had fallen back to defensive positions, having finished preparations to meet the enemy.
It was followed by a second, a third...
By the time the tenth of ten mines detonated, spec ops was already engaged in combat at medium range.
Blaster bolts lashed out relentlessly in both directions.
Red and green.
But each carried death with it.
Or at least its threat.
Holding both corridors, the spec ops used hatches as cover, hiding most of their bodies behind the armored bulkheads.
This allowed them to fire from much more convenient positions than the enemy.
Straight corridors, with not a hint of cover, became a mass grave for Zann's militants.
Orsan, pushing all thoughts from his head, fired in economical bursts, taking down one target after another.
In the corridor he was holding with another trooper from his squad, a small pile of bodies had already formed.
Which the enemy decided to use as cover.
The spec ops had their own opinion about that.
Unlike the enemy, who needed the reactor undamaged by explosions to scuttle the ship, they had the option of throwing thermal detonators.
One such just flew behind the makeshift barricade.
The explosion scattered the pile of bodies down the corridor, hitting five Zann Consortium fighters who had taken cover behind their fallen comrades.
Two wounded silently tried to crawl away from the line of fire, but accurate shots from the spec ops finished them both.
"Hold," Orsan ordered the trooper, changing position.
Moving away from the corridor, he made eye contact with the tech and sent him to the position he had just left with a nod.
"Second corridor, your status?" he asked over the comlink.
"Holding," the message wasn't optimistic. "One wounded."
The Captain, without asking further questions, rushed to the engine compartment.
That's where the second passage to the parts of the ship occupied by his unit was.
And that's where his other two troopers were holding out.
Upon arrival, he saw that one spec ops trooper had taken a wound to the thigh but was still firing.
The other had taken several blaster hits to the left side of his chest and now couldn't support his comrade with his own weapon fire.
Meaning this position was in greater danger.
"Two minutes," Makino stated the time after which he could assist the firing subordinate.
The latter just nodded silently, firing a burst.
No additional words were needed here.
It's clear anyway that the wounded must be taken care of first.
Any spec ops trooper would do the same.
Orsan dragged the subordinate wounded in the chest away, authoritatively tore off his chest plate.
The necessary medical substances for treating and stabilizing the wounds were taken from the field medkit.
An injection of painkiller along with an anti-shock drug, bacta spray, bacta-plaster for each wound on the subordinate's chest.
"Thanks, Commander," he said weakly. "You already forgive..."
"Less talking," Orsan ordered.
The last step in the first aid algorithm was a small dose of adrenaline to prevent the wounded soldier from losing consciousness.
Only after that did Orsan take his place on the defensive line.
"Change!" he ordered, taking down a pressing opponent with a precise shot.
Flailing his arms like a ballroom dancer, the enemy collapsed onto the deck.
The second soldier, stepping off the firing line, began tending to his own wounds.
Quick, calm, measured actions of a professional who knows perfectly well his wounds are not fatal, but at the same time, he must take care of himself.
And he can afford to do so while Orsan covers him.
The bandaging took less than two minutes, during which Makeno pinned four more enemy fighters to the floor.
Feeling no pain or fear, they charged head-on.
Not counting losses, ignoring their own few wounded, the Zann forces tried to overwhelm the fleet special forces with their superior numbers.
It might have worked on someone else.
But not on Captain Makeno's team.
The enemy had nowhere to hide from the blaster fury of the special forces.
Not that they tried.
The now-bandaged soldier hurled a thermal detonator—the last one, by the way—at the approaching enemies.
The enemy fighters were thrown aside like rag dolls.
Of the ten caught in the blast, only two got up.
And even then, not for long.
A couple of shots—and the corridor was filled only with corpses.
"First squad, your status?" asked Makeno.
"Attack repelled," reported the technician. "No wounded."
"Collect ammunition if possible," ordered Captain Makeno.
Hutt only knew how much longer they'd have to hold out on this ship before it was all over.
"Sir," the wounded soldier called out. "Movement."
No need to ask where.
The enemy could only come from the far end of the corridor.
But Makeno saw it himself.
In the red light of the emergency lamps, armored enemy fighters were advancing on them…
Who, for some reason, weren't firing.
Orsan adjusted the sensitivity of his helmet's visor.
He smirked.
Opened a comm channel.
"This is Captain Makeno," he addressed the approaching Dominion shock troopers. "The reactor hall and engine section are under our full control."
The approaching squad of armored fighters stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, as if rooted to the spot.
"Understood, sir," came the voice of the Dominion shock trooper squad leader in his helmet. "Our cruiser has boarded the frigate. The crew is eliminated. Do you require assistance?"
"Not exactly," Makeno chuckled, looking at his subordinates. "Special forces always handle things themselves. But, since you're offering, I have a request to evacuate my wounded. Two soldiers."
The shock trooper paused for a second, then reported:
"A medical team will be with you in three minutes, sir. I have orders to take the ship under full control. Permission to relieve you at your post, Captain Makeno?"
Orsan, leaning back, sighed with relief.
Ah…
Clones are good guys.
But humor is clearly not their forte.
"Go ahead," he permitted, feeling a sudden wave of fatigue wash over his body.
*Getting old*, he thought with a touch of melancholy.
* * *
After Asajj Ventress finished her report and left the quarters, I turned my gaze to the leader of the Lurrians.
"Do you have anything to add?" I inquired.
"No, Grand Admiral," he replied, wincing painfully. "Our planet is free, thanks to you. But a significant portion of our best scientists and equipment has been taken from the planet. I regret that in the near future, we are not the best helpers for you. But," the Lurrian perked up, "we will do everything possible to become a significant part of the Dominion as gratitude for our rescue from the clutches of the enslavers!"
"Of course," I stated.
As the leader could likely assume, I harbored no negativity towards the Lurrians on this matter.
I knew even before this meeting that the Zann Consortium would try to evacuate all the most valuable assets from the planet during a breakout attempt.
I understood and accepted that the scientific and industrial potential of the inhabitants of the planet Lur might be severely diminished initially.
"Restoring industry—Lurrian independent technologies—with the Dominion's resources, isn't actually such a big problem," I explained. "Our meeting is due to other aspects of your people's genetic activities, Leader."
"Yes, of course," he agreed obediently. "I will answer any question you have, Grand Admiral."
"Cloning," I didn't beat around the bush. "I'm interested in how perfectly developed it is."
"Cloned organisms are indistinguishable from their originals," the leader said, somewhat flustered. "Except for rapid aging, of course. But that's not our fault—it's a consequence of the duplication technology we use."
"Cloning cylinders from the planet Khomm," I nodded in agreement, indicating I understood the topic.
"Exactly."
"Do you possess the capability to independently construct this technology?" I asked.
"No. Since our ancestors purchased the installations, we have not been able to reproduce a single one," admitted the Lurrian.
"Didn't try?"
"We tried. Many times. We couldn't obtain the necessary quality of metal and materials to recreate the installations," the leader explained. "Using several capsules as examples, we were able to study the design of the cloning cylinders. But, obviously, there is some production secret, because no matter how many times we tried ourselves, no matter how many times we attempted to replicate the parts by ordering them from third-party suppliers—nothing worked. The principle of operation is understood, studied, but… We concluded that the Khommites used an unknown metal not found in the periodic table to manufacture the equipment. And the processing of the parts is of such high quality, unmatched anywhere in the galaxy. The level of part fitting—exceeds all possible tolerances. They seem assembled at a molecular level… Any attempts to replicate the technology with even the best quality materials lead to a degradation of cloning parameters. Even the increasing production time isn't as terrible as the emergence of genetic anomalies…"
These conclusions completely match those obtained by Dominion engineers studying all types of cloning cylinders in our possession.
It's unknown how or why, but the Spaarti Creations managed to replicate the quality of this technology, perhaps even significantly improved it.
And no one else has such a capability.
Are coincidences in this universe accidental?
I'm afraid not.
I'd sooner assume that Spaarti Creations once participated in creating cloning cylinders for Khomm than accept as an axiom that no one in the galaxy could replicate Khomm's technological quality.
Unfortunately, we don't possess such capabilities either.
All stocks of spare parts for cloning cylinders have long been put to use, and the laboratories are working day and night to create reinforcements for the Dominion Armed Forces.
"What is the production time for your clones?"
"One year, Grand Admiral."
Exactly the same as the Spaarti cloning cylinders.
Another coincidence?
No, I don't think so.
"Do you use imprint machines to implant knowledge into clones?"
"Yes, of course," nodded the Lurrian. "We create…" he hesitated, "created exact copies of the originals."
The imprint machines were stolen, just like the cloning cylinders.
Trouble…
"Well," I said. "Thank you for taking the time. The regular fleet is already tracking the enemy fleet that abducted your people. As soon as we achieve results, they will be returned home. Along with the installations and equipment we can recapture from the Zann Consortium."
"My people are eternally indebted to you," the Lurrian began to effuse. "The harsh nature of our planet forced my people to live in close-knit families, and separation from a family member makes all others unhappy. We will await news from you. And until then… If we can be of any use…"
Well, since you insist.
"The Dominion has its own cloning programs and cloning facilities," I stated. "Teams consisting of specialists in fields related to cloning and genetics have already been created to ensure their operation. I would like your scientists to also join this project."
"It will be a great honor for us to stand alongside your scientists!" the Lurrian lit up. "All our talents will be directed towards being useful to our new state. Do you have any assignments for my people?"
"Of course," otherwise I wouldn't have asked such questions. "The incubators in which you grow your animals—they aren't Khommite technology, are they?"
"No," declared the Lurrian with pride. "That is the achievement of our own scientists."
"Therefore, you can develop genetically modified animals as before?" I clarified.
"Within the limits of the preserved production base—yes," confirmed the leader. "That's about thirty percent of the incubators—the rest were either stolen by the captors or destroyed…"
"The Dominion will help you with restoration," I announced. "I'm confident your genetically modified animals will find their niche of usefulness within the Dominion."
"We will strive tirelessly!"
Communication with the Lurrian leader left the impression of his people as technologically advanced but gullible and good-natured.
Well, we don't intend to use or oppress them.
On the contrary, we will organize the most effective internal policy towards Lur.
"That's good," I agreed. "Also, I will require your scientists to participate in a number of top-secret scientific projects where your genetic knowledge will be invaluable."
"Is that so?" the Lurrian seemed to blush with delight. "May I know how we can be useful, besides assisting with cloning and creating genetically modified animals?"
"It's simple," I replied. "Several critical issues are on the agenda. The first is genetic therapy for our clones to mitigate the side effect of aging."
"A task beyond the reach of most cloners," admired the Lurrian. "My people once worked on this issue, but a lack of resources forced us to forget about it. But we will gladly help you…"
"And second," I continued. "In the foreseeable future, a race from beyond the galaxy will invade. They are cruel and intend to exterminate all mechanisms, as well as populations that refuse to be their slaves. The Dominion intends to prevent this. But their arsenal includes biologically modified organisms turned into weapons. Our technology seriously lags behind theirs in this regard. For half a year now, we have been trying to unlock the secrets of their technologies to be ready to meet them fully armed."
"If someone told me that intelligences from beyond the galaxy, which are impossible to cross, would try to exterminate us, I wouldn't have believed it," the Lurrian said after a second of silence. "But a few years ago, I didn't believe the Empire would collapse, and we would be occupied by criminals who would force us to create an army of soulless clones, machines of death, knowing no mercy or pity… Lur is with you, Grand Admiral. Whatever your order—we will do everything to fulfill it. For our future. And the future of our children."
Brilliant but good-natured…
The main thing is not to push them too hard.
"I am deeply grateful for such activity, Leader. My adjutant, Lieutenant Colonel Tiers," Grodin, standing behind me, took a short step forward, identifying himself, "will brief you on the details."
An amusing fact.
At first, we had no cloning specialists, and now we have geneticists for every taste.
All that's left is to conquer the Kaminoans, Arkanians, and Khommites—and that's it, monopoly on the cloning market guaranteed for the Dominion.
Alone in the quarters, I looked out the viewport, enjoying the lights of the reviving Golan stations in Lur's orbit.
At least we have temporary protection for this world.
This campaign has reached its peak but is not yet over.
Vice Admiral Shohashi will put the final point.
Tomorrow.
But for now…
For now, I should shift my attention to circumstances requiring immediate attention.
Time to return briefly to Syutrik and inspect Mr. Pent's creation of our own HoloNet system within the Dominion.
And I should also visit the space mine production plants.
The experience of the attack on Lur gave me good food for thought.
It's never too late to learn from your own mistakes and the enemy's achievements.
Useful to avoid getting arrogant.