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28.10.905.M38
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"As you can see, many are already at work in production…," said the Cerberus scientist. The treatment used to extend his life had eroded any trace of empathy; his expression was colder, more calculating, with a sadistic edge he no longer bothered to hide.
"Good. And how much have you managed to increase output? This is critical. The problem is that we'll have to wait fifteen years before they're ready, so the sooner we start, the better," I replied, observing the thousands upon thousands of artificial wombs filling the facility, all connected by endless pipelines carrying nutrients throughout the complex.
"Fifty thousand per year, Lord Regent. We have used every credit with maximum efficiency, working alongside engineers from the Prometheus Company to squeeze every material to its limit. Everything operates at full capacity. Surveillance drones, repair drones, nanobots constantly monitoring the pipelines. Nothing can fail. Quite literally, this is the largest life-production center ever created… though we could push the numbers even higher if you authorize the implementation of the accelerated growth gene, as we recommended. That would reduce training time and costs," he added, flashing an openly sadistic smile.
"You're… insane," I replied, shaking my head. "You wouldn't be aboard the Cerberus ship without a degree of madness, but you know how difficult it would be to avoid psychotic breakdowns if we forced accelerated growth."
"But with memory wipes and artificial memory implantation, we could increase production three or fourfold per year," another scientist interjected, his tone far too enthusiastic.
"No," I replied coldly. "We have something that works, and we are not going to ruin it. This is far too important to introduce drastic changes. If something goes wrong—if batches are born damaged or genetic problems emerge—we would face enormous consequences. For now, operations remain at standard output."
"Understood," he said with an analytical look. "We would like to request additional funding, Lord Regent. We have research projects that exceed what the current budget allows, but given our progress, we believe it would be prudent to grant us unrestricted research funds," added Cerberus's lead scientist, wearing a wide smile that never reached his eyes.
"What do you want the funds for?" I asked, watching him closely.
"For the good of the Dominion. To study its enemies," he replied without hesitation. "We are requesting twenty million credits… and approximately one thousand specimens of the T'au species. We have numerous experiments planned, but we lack both the subjects and the resources. Deep research. Biopsies. Determining the temperatures at which their bodies can continue functioning, which organs are vital, which elements are poisonous or toxic to them, the capabilities of their digestive systems… all with the goal of developing chemical and toxic weapons tailored specifically to them, and determining what kind of armament is most efficient at killing them," explained the other scientist, leather gloves creaking as he pressed his palms together while smiling.
"Unethical experiments, then…?" I said, staring at him coldly after lightly probing his mind. "You're not thinking of infesting them with the zerg virus, are you?"
"We have zerg in storage. They would be an excellent weapon," he replied without a hint of discomfort. "I remind you that Cerberus originated from the creation of an artificial zerg hive intended for control. We only succeeded by linking them to an AI-based hive network via cerebral implants. Even so, we should analyze the military viability of infesting T'au worlds. For example… introducing an infestor onto a T'au planet and—" he briefly lost his composure, laughing, "—and watching them slaughter each other." He cleared his throat and regained his composure. "That is why we must study how effective the virus truly is."
"And then what?" I asked, crossing my arms. "The world would be infested. We'd have to burn everything."
"Precisely why the research is necessary," the other scientist replied, spreading his hands eagerly. "We must study T'au communal behavior. If they are a highly communal species, abandoning the infected would be suicidal for them. The planet would become a slaughterhouse between their military forces and the infested. And if they are unaware that the virus can spread through the air…" he let out a low laugh. "It would be fascinating to observe. But first, we must be certain."
"For now, no. That would require too many resources," I replied.
The two scientists exchanged a glance and nodded in silence.
"I believe you may be underestimating our capabilities, Lord Regent. Why don't you come with me? This is our control zone," said the Cerberus leader.
They led me into a laboratory where several artificial wombs were active, aligned with surgical precision.
"This is where we've been working continuously… using the rapid-growth gene to evaluate genetic viability in certain combinations for specimens with Ghost potential," the scientist explained, clearly proud.
"Ah… against my orders, or am I mistaken?" I asked, fixing him with a hard stare.
"They do not become Ghosts," he replied quickly. "This is strictly for statistical analysis. We need to know what percentage of the genetic strain we intend to use can actually be converted into Ghosts. Currently, only ten percent of created lives reach an index above five, and of that group, barely one percent exceeds index eight."
He paused, savoring the silence.
"But if we include a terrazine injection during fetal gestation… voilà. A thirty-four percent probability of an index above five, and twenty-five percent above index eight. We triple the program's effectiveness and increase the index-eight yield twenty-fivefold," he concluded, smiling broadly as he moistened his lower lip.
"I assume this must have long-term studies… we don't know whether it could cause psychosis or some form of insanity," I said while reviewing the data.
"Of course. One can never be completely certain," he replied casually. "Statistics can vary, which is precisely why we must conduct every possible experiment. It would be unethical to limit ourselves to only a handful of trials," he added, flashing a wide grin.
"I will allocate thirty million credits for this experiment. I need to know whether this is a stable method of producing Ghosts. If it is, we will have more Ghosts than we can train. And if part of that funding finds its way into your zerg research, there will be no audits… provided you deliver the results properly," I said as I turned and left the laboratory.
"Of course, Lord Regent. We will never fail the security of the Dominion… but the T'au—" the scientist said, following me.
"You'll have them. I will order that several refugee T'au in Augustgrad disappear."
After leaving Cerberus's research facilities, I went directly to inspect all the space stations whose construction I had ordered over the past months. The nearby Eldar world had, in practice, become a Psi-Ops world. We had not yet taken it by force nor established contact with the Eldar, but we had surrounded the system with Ghost training installations intended to prepare the thousands of future candidates of the program.
Several thousand Protoss were also present there. They had become increasingly insistent about claiming a planet of their own, and from a strategic standpoint it was not a bad option to allow them to deal with the Eldar if no agreement could be reached, though I considered that outcome unlikely. In any case, from those installations they could observe the planet, and I had brought them there after promising that, if they proved their commitment to the Dominion, that world would be theirs… once I managed to resolve the systematic hatred Terrans held toward the Protoss—perhaps in a century or two.
For the Protoss, this was not an excessive timeframe. They lived for a thousand years. They accepted the limit, understanding that it was unwise to antagonize those responsible for training our elite units.
For the moment, the Eldar world remained beyond the reach of our colonization efforts, while the Protoss cooperated more willingly, training with techniques far more advanced than our own.
We now possessed two hundred and fifty warships, allowing for constant surveillance of our borders with the T'au. For now, there was no reason for them to suspect our relative weakness.
After completing the inspection of all essential military installations, I could finally consider a gradual reduction in war expenditures. For more than two decades, we had devoted nearly the entire budget—every mineral and every source of income—to military production and war preparations. But for the first time, I could say we were safe… at least until further notice.
It was time to refocus the Dominion's economy on its population, not solely on the army.
With the new year approaching, I began planning massive infrastructure projects to accommodate a larger population, prepare more efficient settlements for future colonies, and organize the labor that would emerge once we finally annexed the hive world.
It was also necessary to expand our genetic alteration capabilities. Most existing genetic clinics were private and served only those who could afford treatments to correct mutations. Very few had real access to comprehensive genetic enhancement.
In addition to constructing new factories for civilian consumer goods, I planned to activate a global information system, allow the development of civilian arts, and significantly increase investment in medical personnel and equipment, with the goal of rapidly transforming Korhal into a fully Terran world.
Within no more than five years, the entire population of New Korhal would be Terran. It would be costly. Much of the infrastructure would become unnecessary once the process was complete. But it would help extinguish the internal tensions within the system, where many Terrans still viewed Imperials as inferior.
The educational curriculum on Chau Sara also needed reform. Until now, it had taught absolute distrust of xenos. It was necessary, at the very least, to acknowledge that on multiple occasions we had cooperated with the Protoss to confront greater threats, such as the zerg or other Terran states.
With luck, within a century we could have a society that was at least somewhat more tolerant toward xenos.
The true problem remained the Imperial Cult, a constant source of tension, and the inevitable question of funding. Without its contribution, population growth on many worlds would be slow… but relying on it carried its own cost.
With total control over the Ecclesiarchy, we could dictate the narrative permitted to the priests of the God-Emperor. Whenever we wished, we could enact deep reforms within the Ecclesiarchy, even steering it back toward what we considered the Imperial Truth the Emperor once intended for humanity—though for the Terrans, that "Imperial Truth" was simply our way of life.
So it was not madness. In time, I could probably relax their views on technology and xenos, preserving only the most useful aspects of their religion: martial discipline, loyalty, and the duty to reproduce.
I did not remain long in my quarters aboard the White Star before an early-warning alert arrived from one of our sensor stations.
"Lord Regent, a group of asteroids has been detected on a collision course with one of our star systems. It could endanger the planet. Although it is uninhabited, there are plans for mining colonization, so the impact would cause significant changes in the area," reported one of the officers from the New Korhal sensor tower.
"Asteroids?" I asked. "Can the sensors obtain a preliminary image of the targets?"
"Working on it…" There was a brief pause. "Shit… the asteroids have weapons, my Lord Regent," the officer replied, transmitting the image.
"Orks…" I murmured upon seeing it.
"Repeat the order, my Lord Regent," the officer said.
"Nothing. Estimated time of arrival to the system… Spatha?" I asked, studying the projected collision trajectory.
"Six months, my Lord Regent. At their current velocity, estimated arrival is six months, twenty days, and fourteen hours," he answered.
"Good. Keep me informed of any developments," I ordered before cutting the transmission.
"It was too good to be true… goodbye to the civilian plans," I murmured, already beginning to prepare a parallel military expansion plan for the next six months.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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