Outside the office window stretched a panorama of a rapidly growing city – new factories, residential areas, research centers. Not long ago, this was an abandoned colony, and now the planet had every chance of becoming a prosperous world. But for now, his thoughts were occupied with a completely different planet – dead, covered in radioactive ash.
He poured himself a cup of caf and delved into the archives brought from Valorin. The analytical cluster had completed processing petabytes of information, systematizing it into readable reports. Alex expected to find technical documentation, production process schematics, perhaps some innovative solutions in energy or materials science.
Instead, he received a lesson in galactic politics that made him reconsider many of his ingrained beliefs.
The history of Valorin turned out to be familiar and, at the same time, instructive. Five thousand years ago, a research expedition from "Corellian Engineering" discovered an ancient Rakatan production base on the planet. In those days, the corporation was a monopolist in hyperdrive production – they found and appropriated such sites throughout the galaxy, using ancient technologies to strengthen their positions.
But the members of the Valorin expedition decided otherwise. Why share with the corporation when, with such a production base, one could become an independent power? They founded a colony, declared independence. At that time, another galactic war was raging, and the corporation had no time for one lost expedition.
And then the Valorinians grew strong enough. They had their own fleet, built on ancient technologies. Powerful ships capable of confronting even the dreadnoughts of that era.
At another time, "Corellian Engineering" would have blown them to smithereens, but then the corporation's position in the Senate was undermined, and their private army had suffered heavy losses. They failed to lobby their interests, and as a result, Valorin was accepted into the Republic as a full member.
But the Corellians did not forget the insult. For all five thousand years, they subtly harmed Valorin. They blocked profitable contracts, bribed senators, spread rumors about "illegal technologies" and "security threats," and initiated lawsuits from shell companies. All to get rid of a competitor in their field. Alex could understand that. He himself would not have left Valorin alone if he were in Corellian Engineering's place. Such cases should be punished severely and demonstratively.
Valorin's fatal mistake, besides appropriating Corellian Engineering's property, was refusing to disarm their fleet upon joining the Republic. They thought membership would protect them, that the laws of the Republic and diplomacy were more important than brute military force. They disarmed voluntarily, hoping for justice. Yes, this indeed protected them for five thousand years. But some things are never forgiven.
When the Clone Wars began, the Valorinians faced a difficult choice. Key corporations gained the ability to lobby for their desired decisions. The Republic pressured them more and more each year. Chancellor Palpatine received emergency powers, and the Senate turned into a puppet theater. Their production was under threat of nationalization.
Valorin tried to maintain neutrality, but it proved impossible. Pressure from both sides intensified. In the end, they decided to join the Confederacy of Independent Systems – not out of love for the separatists, but out of desperation.
But they miscalculated. The war unfolded in such a way that Valorin was almost immediately cut off from the rest of the CIS territory. The Republican fleet established a blockade of the system, and there was no one to help the Valorinians. Count Dooku was busy defending key worlds, and droid armies were fighting on other fronts.
Valorin was left alone against the full might of the Republic.
The Clone Wars ended, the Republic turned into the Empire, but for Valorin, nothing changed. The blockade continued. The new regime issued an ultimatum: complete surrender and transfer of all production facilities under Imperial control.
The Valorinians were ready to surrender – but not on these terms. Giving up hyperdrive production meant economic death. Without their technologies, the planet would turn into an ordinary agricultural world, unable to feed even half of its population.
"We can accept Imperial rule," wrote Marcus Valorin, chairman of the planetary council, in his diary. "We can pay taxes, accept an Imperial governor, disband the local militia. But production is our life. Without it, Valorin will die a slow death."
Negotiations dragged on for months. The Empire pretended to be ready for compromises – the Valorinians could retain part of the production, but under strict Imperial control. All blueprints, all technologies had to be handed over to Imperial engineers. In essence, Valorin would turn into an ordinary production colony.
The planetary council voted again and again. Opinions were divided. Some demanded acceptance of the terms. Others called for fighting to the end.
The decisive vote came from General Erskine, who had completely lost his mind by then.
"Five thousand years ago, our ancestors did not bow their heads. We built this world with our own hands, created technologies that the entire galaxy envies. And now they offer us to give it all up? No. If we must die, we will die as Valorinians, not as slaves."
The council voted to continue resistance. It was a fatal mistake.
The siege lasted six years. The Valorinians held on desperately, using their last reserves, planetary shields still worked, underground factories still produced weapons and supplies.
The Empire was in no hurry. It had more important matters – suppressing other rebellions on key worlds, hunting Jedi. Valorin could wait.
But Palpatine's patience was not infinite. Six years later, he signed the order for the "final solution to the Valorin question." The operation was codenamed "Last Promise."
"Corellian Engineering," which was now officially recognized as an Imperial state corporation, finally got its revenge. Their lobbyists reported to the Emperor about "technologies threatening the stability of the Empire," about the "necessity of a complete purge of the separatist hotbed." Palpatine gave the go-ahead for destruction.
The orbital bombardment began without warning. The Imperial fleet unleashed its full might on the planet – turbolasers, proton torpedoes, even experimental plasma weapons. Cities turned to ash in hours. The atmosphere filled with smoke and radioactive particles.
Valorin died in agony.
But even after the bombardment, the Empire did not calm down. Imperial archaeologists and technicians scoured the planet's ruins for years, searching for underground complexes with Rakatan technologies. They knew that production facilities, blueprints, and component warehouses must be hidden somewhere.
They found nothing. Hundreds of expeditions, thousands of hours of scanning, entire armies of archaeologist droids. And nothing. It was as if the underground complexes were protected by something more than just camouflage and hidden entrances.
Alex pondered. Why did he get the coordinates so easily? Dane simply remembered where he worked and led them straight to the target. No complex searches, no mysteries.
Mystical energy permeating all living things. Nothing else could have guided them on the right path. He had no other explanation.
Among the documents were more personal records. Last messages from other CIS worlds that also found themselves isolated. Desperate pleas for help that no one could provide.
One letter particularly struck Alex. It was written by an engineer named Daren Case – possibly a distant relative of Dane.
"My dear Atta, if you ever receive this letter, know that I thought of you until the last moment. We did everything we could. We tried to create new technologies that could change the course of the war. But there wasn't enough time. The Imperials are not giving us a chance even to surrender on acceptable terms. They want complete submission. Take care of our son. Tell him about Valorin, about how beautiful our world was. Maybe someday he can return here and see how life triumphs over death."
Alex put the document aside and leaned back in his chair. The lesson was clear: only military power commands respect. Diplomacy, laws, justice – all of it works only when backed by turbolasers and a fleet.
Valorin forgot this and paid the price.
Alex got up from the table and walked around the office, reflecting on what he had read. But the more he thought about Valorin's fate, the clearer it became – this was not an isolated incident. It was part of a broader pattern.
He activated the holographic interface and began to correlate the data. Geonosis – complete genocide of an intelligent insectoid race under the pretext of fighting separatism. Officially, the Geonosians were "evacuated to safe regions of the galaxy." In reality, they simply ceased to exist as a species. The system was closed, and the planet was turned into a secret military base.
Lasan – "pacification" meant the near-total destruction of the Lasat race. Out of a population of two billion, no more than a few thousand survived, scattered across the galaxy. The Imperials used weapons of mass destruction – disruptors that turned living tissue to dust. The reason? The Lasats were known as a defiant people with ancient combat traditions, but most tragically for them – the planet contained significant deposits of rare metals.
Mirial – massacre of peaceful demonstrators protesting the imposition of martial law. Official version: "suppression of a terrorist rebellion." Reality: Imperial stormtroopers shot unarmed civilians, including children.
Umbara – brutal occupation of a planet known for its advanced technologies. The local population was turned into slaves working in Imperial factories. Official version: "integration of Umbara into the Imperial economy." Alex smirked. The Imperials didn't even lie.
Kashyyyk – enslavement of Wookiees for the construction of Imperial projects. Official version: "employment program for backward species." The Imperial propaganda bureau employs individuals with a dark sense of humor.
Mon Cala – occupation, mass executions of dissidents, turning the planet into a source of cheap seafood for the Core Worlds. The Mon Calamari were known as skilled shipbuilders, so the Empire did not just occupy the planet – it destroyed the local shipbuilding industry, executed leading engineers, and forbade the Mon Calamari from doing anything other than fishing.
Kristan is a barbaric crystal mining operation using slave labor of prisoners. The average lifespan of a miner on Kristan is eight months. But the crystals were mined quickly and cheaply, and that was the main thing.
Alex stopped at the window, looking at the stars. The pattern was obvious. All these worlds had one thing in common: they either possessed valuable resources, or had developed technologies, or posed a potential threat to imperial hegemony. And all of them had been systematically destroyed or enslaved.
But now that he knew about the plan to reduce technological reach, everything fell into place. It wasn't just imperial cruelty or lust for power. It was the systematic implementation of a grand design to reduce galactic civilization. The elites decided to sacrifice four-fifths of the galaxy's population to preserve their own well-being in the face of depleting Rakatan technologies. And they didn't need alternative centers of power.
Alex poured himself another cup of kaff and sat down at the table again. The more he thought about the Restructuring Plan, the stronger his indignation grew. Not so much from the fact itself—after all, the problem of depleting ancient technologies was real. But rather from the methods of implementation.
Even their cannibalistic plan could have been carried out more humanely. For example, preparing planets for autonomous existence for centuries. Gradually winding down trade ties, switching worlds to local resources, developing alternative technologies. Yes, it would have taken more time, but it would have avoided the genocide of billions of beings.
Instead, the elites chose the path of maximum cruelty. They decided to extract everything they could from the doomed worlds using the most barbaric methods. To turn them into sources of cheap raw materials and slave labor, and then let them die out from the disruption of the supply chain.
Moreover, they systematically destroyed centers of possible crystallization of new political structures. Valorin, Umbara—these worlds could have become the cores of alternative alliances capable of resisting imperial hegemony. Therefore, they were liquidated first, under various pretexts, but with one goal.
Alex paced the office, pondering the elites' motives. Perhaps it wasn't just about practical considerations. Perhaps they derived sadistic pleasure from their power over the life and death of entire civilizations. Or simply did not consider "lesser races" worthy of sympathy. Maybe there was something else he didn't understand yet.
Or maybe they were afraid. Afraid that if they gave the outer worlds time to prepare, they would find a way to survive on their own. Create alternative technologies, build independent economies, refuse to submit to the dictates of the Core. That's why they decided to act quickly and brutally, giving potential competitors no chance.
In any case, their methods were disgusting. And this made the fight against them not just a political necessity, but a moral imperative.
Alex returned to the table and looked at the protected vault where the Rakatan crystal rested. Theoretically, there were two ways to solve the crisis: developing technologies independent of the Rakata, or reactivating ancient production chains.
The first path was attractive from a philosophical point of view. To create a completely new technological base, independent of the legacy of an extinct civilization. This would give the galaxy true independence and sustainable development for millennia to come.
But practically, this path was unrealistic. At least in the foreseeable future. Rakatan technologies, or those of their predecessors, had developed for tens of thousands of years, relying on a deep understanding of the fundamental laws of nature, a developed scientific paradigm, and ingenious engineering solutions. Recreating their achievements from scratch would also take millennia. And at the same time, the existence of Rakatan technologies did not provide an incentive for the development of their own technologies.
The galaxy did not have that much time. There were at most five hundred years left until natural collapse, and the elites wanted to accelerate the process even more. A solution was needed that could be implemented in the coming decades.
Therefore, the second path—reactivating production chains—seemed optimal. The crystal in the vault could be the key to this solution. If access to the information within could be obtained, new sources of components for ancient technologies could be created.
But there was an important nuance here. Simple restoration of the previous production level would only postpone the crisis for several millennia. Sooner or later, resources would run out again, and the galaxy would find itself in the same situation.
No, Rakatan technologies needed to be made scarce and expensive. To produce them only as much as necessary to sustain the life of civilization, but no more. This would create motivation for the development of alternative solutions, a gradual transition to independent technologies.
A kind of "soft landing"—a slow, controlled transition from dependence to autonomy. Instead of a catastrophic collapse or a genocidal "compression"—a planned evolution towards a new technological paradigm.
Of course, this would require a radical change in the galaxy's economic and political system. It would be necessary to abandon the model of infinite growth, introduce strict regulation of resource consumption, and rebuild the entire system of interplanetary trade.
But it was better than genocide or collapse.
Alex activated another file—a report on the events on Gorman, received from the rebels. This case particularly vividly demonstrated the cynicism of the imperial elites.
According to intelligence, the Empire wanted to control Gorman because of the presence of kalkit ore beneath the planet's surface.
At the same time, the Imperials knew that kalkit mining could destroy the planet and negatively affect its ecology. But they were concerned not with the well-being of the local population, but with the preservation of the resource. They wanted to extract all the kalkit, leaving nothing for future generations.
To have a legal reason to start mining, they themselves instigated an anti-imperial uprising on Gorman. They provoked the local population into protests, and then brutally suppressed them.
The plan worked perfectly. Imperial agents organized a series of "terrorist acts," which were blamed on local separatists. An "investigation" began, accompanied by arrests and torture of innocent people. This caused public outrage and indeed led to an uprising.
The Empire got its excuse. Orbital bombardment of cities, mass executions, concentration camps. The surviving Gormanites were turned into slaves on their own planet, working in the kalkit mines under deadly conditions.
Imperial propaganda presented this as the "liberation of Gorman from terrorists" and the "integration of the planet into the galactic economy." The inhabitants of the Core worlds watched with satisfaction as separatism was suppressed. Imperial propaganda presented this as the destruction of the remnants of the CIS.
Alex turned off the holographic projector and rubbed his temples. Gorman was a perfect example of imperial logic. The planet was needed only as a source of resources, its population—expendable material, its future—irrelevant. The main thing was to extract everything valuable as quickly and cheaply as possible.
And this was not an anomaly, not an exception to the rules. It was a system. The systematic, methodical destruction of the periphery for the salvation of the Core. Preparation for the "great compression" of civilization, when a large part of the galaxy would be sacrificed for the well-being of the chosen.
He stood up and walked to the window. Outside the glass, the lights of Tersik twinkled—a young, growing world full of hope and opportunity. But now he knew what fate awaited his planet if the Empire discovered its existence.
The Restructuring Plan was already being implemented. Valorin was just one of the first victims—perhaps not even the most important one. The list continued to grow, and these were only known cases. How many more worlds had disappeared without a trace, becoming a footnote in imperial reports?
The rebels fought against the Empire, thinking they were fighting for freedom and justice. But even if they won, the problem of technological depletion would not disappear. The galaxy had only five hundred years until complete collapse at the current consumption rate.
The Empire solved this problem radically, but the Rebels also proposed returning to the old system of the Republic, which led to the current crisis.
No, he trusted neither the elites nor the rebels. Both were part of the system that had led the galaxy to a dead end.
Tersik was to become a third way. A quiet harbor for those who could survive the coming upheavals. A center for developing alternative solutions. A refuge for science and culture when the rest of the galaxy plunged into chaos.
He looked at the protected vault with the Rakatan crystal. Somewhere there, in its mysterious structure, could be the key to saving civilization. The key to a "soft landing" that would avoid both genocide and collapse.
There was still much work to be done. But there was time, and a solution existed. The main thing was not to let the elites accelerate the process, not to let them turn a controlled transition into a catastrophe.
Valorin died, but his sacrifice was not in vain.