**Chapter 249: Gas, Steel, and Secrets**
Dagon Marek leaned back in the comfortable chair of the secure conference room aboard the *Terminus*, the flagship's kyber-enhanced systems humming faintly in the background. Across the polished table sat Rath Sienar, the man who had become one of the Twelfth Sector's most valuable allies. The holoprojector between them displayed real-time data streams: gas yields, fuel shipments, and projected output for the new turbolaser batteries.
"I must say, my friend, the gas delivery is excellent," Rath began, a satisfied smile on his face. "We now help support Kuat and Rothana and many Core worlds instead of Bespin, who is now forced to lower their prices."
Dagon nodded, the half-white mullet shifting slightly with the motion. The lightning scars on his jaw caught the light. "Yes, it is good, Rath. With Va'art providing fuel, you providing gas, and Yulant assisting in farming and bacta production, the Twelfth Sector is no longer limited to supplies from the Core. Still, we need troops and more food if we are to win the war here."
Rath steepled his fingers, thoughtful. "I understand. I was surprised when you asked me to construct those 'Cinder satellites'—modified weather satellites used to alter weather. Still, it worked. We solved a food crisis in the Lothal sector, and now all the systems—Atollon system, Baros system, Bri'n system, Dominus system, Dornea system, Garel system, Lothal system, Moldour system, Oon system, Ruac system, Solanus system, Solay system, Synistahg system, Trailia system—have joined the agreement between Lantillies and the ash worlds to be represented by Lantilles."
Dagon allowed himself a small, private smile. The Outer Rim was a wild place, full of forgotten or overlooked systems that the Republic Senate barely acknowledged. Many had no senator at all. "How the Republic does not know of these systems, I have never heard of any senator for the Lothal sector, and Dornea seemed to have no representation in the Core."
Rath chuckled dryly. "The Outer Rim is indeed a wild place. Still, at least with the Sienar Military Academy you could assist in training the recruits for the fleet. Isn't that how the Lancer frigates and light carriers are crewed?"
"Precisely," Dagon replied. "But on to more pressing matters. Since I am now broke—with only ten million credits in my account and the stealth ships so far only three as requested—the heads of your corporation won't want someone without capital to keep using their planet and its shipyard without return."
Rath's expression sobered. "Unfortunately, you are right, to my regret. My mother is still the head, and the TIE line you designed is rather expensive. Given we are independent from the other corporations, we need capital to purchase materials. Sure, the gas will help and the fuel, but…"
Dagon leaned forward. "What about Dreadnoughts?"
"Dreadnoughts?" Rath raised an eyebrow. "They are old and expensive."
"No," Dagon clarified. "I mean supply you with slightly armed and fueled old Dreadnoughts in exchange for food supplies I keep from the ships."
Rath paused, processing the offer. "You mean to deliver ships for us to salvage, and that is your payment? Sure, of course, but how are you going to do it?"
"Never mind that," Dagon said with a faint, knowing smile. "It's a trade secret."
The conversation had begun hours earlier in the secure Sienar facility on Lantillies, but now it flowed easily between the two men as old collaborators. Rath had arrived with fresh reports on the Archeon Nebula operation. The stellar nursery in the Lothal sector was proving invaluable. Three shielded collection stations, positioned carefully within the nebula's turbulent gases, harvested vast quantities of raw stellar material. This gas—rich in exotic particles from newborn stars—was more plasma-based than standard tibanna, closer in behavior to the plasma rifles Dagon remembered from his old life on a ruined Earth.
Thanks to his secret alliance with the Chiss Ascendancy—built quietly through shared technological exchanges—the Chiss had helped map and access similar nebulae in the Unknown Regions. Their gas was plasma-heavy, perfect for the new XX-10 ultra-heavy turbolaser design. Dagon had carried the concept in his head for months: supercharged energy condensed and focused through kyber crystal lenses into a far more destructive beam. The weapon discharged through a pair of firing barrels on a swiveling head that could rotate a full 360 degrees, with elevation from -30 to +150 degrees.
Two firing modes gave it versatility. Standard fire unleashed both barrels simultaneously with maximum energy output—devastating against capital ships or fortified targets. Stutter-fire allowed independent barrel discharge at lower output, ideal for saturating groups of smaller vessels or droid swarms. The impervium hull made each turret nearly indestructible except under sustained, concentrated fire. Kyber crystals integrated into the mechanism dramatically boosted destructive potential. The laser actuator, energy coupler, overload dispersal grid, and cooling unit sat in the turret itself, while capacitor banks and the power core were housed below the swivel mount. Gunnery crews operated from protected stations inside the hull.
The Resurgent-class Battlecruisers already mounted these XX-10s in their main gun formations. That was why they had torn through the Recusant destroyers so efficiently in recent engagements. Kyber was rare, and harvesting from abandoned or forbidden worlds was strictly limited by agreements with the Chiss. But the Archeon Nebula offered a workaround—abundant stellar gas that could be refined into the plasma medium needed to feed the kyber lenses.
Rath gestured to the holographic display. "The stations are performing beyond projections. We're pulling in enough gas to equip the next wave of Resurgents and even retrofit some Venators. Blethern Gas Industries might dominate Bespin and Yavin, but we're carving out our own niche with this stellar plasma. The black market would kill for the formulas we're developing."
Dagon thought back to the broader context of blaster and turbolaser technology. Blaster gas was a chemically enhanced fluid forced through chambers to create particle beams. Hundreds of variants existed across the galaxy—tibanna from Bespin being the most famous. The six most common types were eleton, orveth, prothium, sig, skevon, and tolium. Each influenced beam color, density, and properties. On barren worlds like Tatooine, shortages forced reliance on primitive weapons or smuggling. The black market thrived, with companies like Blethern Gas Industries harvesting from gas giants and selling to weapon developers who paid premium for early prototypes.
But Dagon's alliance with the Chiss had opened doors to nebula gases that were more plasma-oriented—energetic, volatile, and perfectly suited to high-output turbolasers. Darth Nox, his old holocron mentor from Va'art, had been instrumental. The ancient Sith Lord's personality—arrogant yet oddly fun when teaching forbidden knowledge—had guided Dagon through Starforge-inspired principles. With that foundation, Sienar had funded Dagon's personal project: a new generation of supertanker fuel depots.
These massive vessels, now jointly designed by Dagon and Sienar, stood 1,545 meters tall. Equipped with Class 2 hyperdrives, powerful boosters, and deflector shields, they could land on planetary surfaces from orbit to serve as mobile refueling stations. Each carried 12 heavy turbolasers and 15 point-defense cannons for self-protection. With Va'art's fuel production and the new gas harvests, the Twelfth Sector was building a self-sustaining logistical backbone.
Rath poured two glasses of fine Corellian brandy and slid one across the table. "Back to your financial situation. Ten million credits won't last long with the scale of operations we're discussing. The stealth ships—only three completed so far—are impressive, but the board wants returns."
Dagon took a sip, savoring the burn. "I know. That's why the Dreadnought offer stands. Old Republic-era hulls, lightly armed and fueled, delivered to your yards for salvage. You strip them for materials, components, and scrap value. In exchange, I keep a percentage of the food and medical supplies we seize from their cargo holds. It's a clean trade—low risk for you, high utility for me."
Rath considered it, eyes narrowing in calculation. "It could work. Dreadnoughts are outdated for frontline service, but their hull plating, power systems, and structural members are still valuable. If you can deliver them discreetly…"
"I can," Dagon assured him. "Trade secret, remember? The Chiss connection helps with navigation through less-patrolled routes, and my own… unconventional methods handle the rest."
They spoke for hours more, refining details. Rath outlined how the new plasma gas would integrate with the XX-10 turbolasers. The supercharged energy would be condensed through kyber lenses, producing beams significantly stronger than standard turbolasers. The impervium armor on the turrets would shrug off most return fire, allowing sustained engagements that previously would have been suicidal.
Dagon shared updates on the Cinder satellites. These modified weather platforms had seeded clouds and adjusted rainfall patterns across the listed systems in the Lothal sector and beyond. Food production had surged, ending local shortages and binding those worlds closer to Lantilles through trade and representation agreements. The Outer Rim's neglect by the Core Senate had left a vacuum—Dagon and his allies were filling it.
As the meeting wound down, Rath raised his glass in a toast. "To self-sufficiency. The Twelfth Sector may yet stand independent of both Republic bureaucracy and Separatist madness."
Dagon clinked his glass. "And to the blades we're forging. The TIE line, the new turbolasers, the fuel depots… when the war reaches its peak, we'll be ready."
Later, alone in his quarters aboard the *Terminus*, Dagon reviewed the latest manifests. The Archeon Nebula stations continued pumping gas. Sienar's yards buzzed with activity converting old Dreadnoughts into raw materials. The stealth ship program crept forward—three completed, more on the way once capital flowed again.
The war was far from over, but the Twelfth Sector was no longer begging for scraps from the Core. With gas, fuel, food, and innovative weapons, they were building something enduring.
Dagon allowed the bond with the five women to brush lightly against his mind—warm, steady, alive. They were out there, each contributing to the growing machine. For the first time in a long while, the future felt less like survival and more like conquest on their own terms.