Kyp Durron shivered as the bone-chilling wind tried to knock him off his feet.
The youth stood his ground, and in retaliation, the capricious weather threw a heap of prickly snowflakes in his face.
He pulled the edges of his fur jacket's hood forward to protect his face, but realized he couldn't extract more of the fluffy fur material to do so.
"Use the Force," he heard the detached instruction from his teacher standing nearby.
Looking at the woman, who stood in the staggering wind wearing little more than a simple cloak and didn't even shiver from the cold, the young man felt a surge of icy terror.
"If only I knew how," he grumbled.
"Think," Ventress declared just as impassively, continuing to drill a hole in the snow-covered, frozen lake shore with her gaze.
"You could at least explain," Durron complained. "I don't know that much about the Force… I'm not a Jedi!"
An indignant snort came from Ventress.
"I witnessed an entire Order, which considered itself the ultimate authority, the only ones with the right to teach about the Force, die. Some I killed. Others were killed by other Dark servants of Count Dooku. Most died at the hands of the clones of the Grand Army of the Republic."
"A rather truncated lecture on the fall of the Jedi Order," Kyp began to stomp his feet, alternating legs. "I was told something different about the Order…"
"And what was that?" Ventress inquired, still detached.
"A lot of things… Certainly not that the Jedi considered themselves the ultimate authority."
"Did they tell you that the Jedi destroyed any cults studying the Force if they considered them teachings of the Dark Side?" asked Ventress. "Some were outright eradicated root and branch. Others were 'put on notice' and were ready to dispatch a strike team at the first misstep."
"The Jensaarai weren't eradicated…"
"They almost managed," Ventress said. "The fact that anyone survived is not a failure of the Jedi. It's the merit of the Jensaarai themselves. However, I'm inclined to view the survival of that Order as a result of both factors I mentioned. In any case — the Jedi grew arrogant. And they were destroyed by those who were stronger than them. And understood the Force better. Those who survived this purge are smarter and better adapted for the future. One could even say the Force conducted natural selection. And only those who best know how to use it survived."
'So both the Jedi underperformed, and the Jensaarai are commendable.'
His toes were beginning to go numb.
Kyp hoped his teacher wasn't such an insensitive beast and wouldn't let him freeze to death.
And if she did, she'd at least say it wasn't for nothing…
"So, the fact that you survived means you're better than the Jedi?" Kyp clarified, trying to warm his freezing fingers with his breath.
"I've killed a large number of Jedi," Ventress said. "And not one of them could boast of having finished me off. So yes, I'm better than them. More adaptable."
"Sounds logical," Durron nodded toward the refreezing hole in the ice. "But that doesn't make you the best pilot in the galaxy."
"Shut up. And stand here until I say you can move."
If the submerged wreckage of their ship made any sound, it was impossible to hear over the howling wind.
Ventress still stared at the ice-covered gap in the hard shell of the mountain lake.
Kyp looked at the few containers of supplies they had managed to save.
Lur's atmosphere was a true disaster for pilots.
Storms and winds lifting tons of snow into the air whipped this white mass to such speeds that anyone descending here got the impression a giant snow blender was at work.
Kyp and Ventress's shuttle had literally been torn apart in the air.
Despite no one shooting at them or even noticing their arrival in the system.
For several days, Lady Ventress had been devising a plan to infiltrate Lur, guarded by the "Zann" forces…
After all, no ship could dash past that entire concentration of Zann Consortium military starships settled in orbit around this planet in the Aparo sector…
Two attempts to attack them resulted in the *Red Star* losing all three attached *Venator*-class Star Destroyers.
Well, not lost…
The enemy destroyed their main weapons — the ion cannons — which Vice Admiral Shohashi had hoped to use to breach the planet's orbital defenses.
They had to withdraw without landing Ventress and Durron on the surface.
Shohashi switched to a blockade tactic, seeding the system exits with minefields.
Even Kyp, with his lack of military education, understood the Vice Admiral was waiting for something.
Or rather, his brother, who had military training on Carida, told him so…
However, he was also wrong.
Nothing changed even after a dozen of the Dominion's newest model Star Destroyers arrived at the *Red Star*'s location two weeks ago…
Star Destroyers that retained all the distinctive features of the "Imperial" appearance, incorporating the expanded artillery of the "threes," improved protection, deflector field boost generators, laser beam anti-aircraft artillery, and much more.
The appearance was similar to the "Imperials," only the hull looked less… angular, perhaps.
In Kyp's opinion, instead of sharpness and severity, the ship's lines became slightly smoother, kinder somehow…
Judging by the fact that the Star Destroyers from the *Red Star* left the squadron, and Shohashi transferred a dozen DSDs — Dominion Star Destroyers — in their place, the situation should have changed drastically…
But the Vice Admiral kept waiting…
What for became clear only yesterday.
The Super Star Destroyer *Guardian* arrived at the *Red Star*'s location.
And Grand Admiral Thrawn.
Who delivered the stealth ship.
The shuttle, still bearing the colors and symbols of the Zann Consortium on its hull.
And now slowly, piece by piece, sinking beneath the waters of the mountain lake on the planet Lur.
They had only survived because Ventress had managed to stabilize the ship for a moment before its crash and jettison some of the emergency supply containers near the crash site.
Kyp wasn't sure he could have survived the fall from that height without a jetpack.
While Ventress herself had plummeted from a height of several hundred meters into a huge snowdrift without any particular problems.
And not only didn't break all her bones.
Not even bruises or scratches were visible.
No point worrying about whether she'd freeze or not.
Kyp didn't know why they had flown to this particular part of the planet — where the strongest winds and blizzards raged.
He knew their task was to contact the local population and organize something like an underground on the planet.
Why exactly that — he didn't know.
Why they couldn't attack the enemy forces head-on — he also didn't know.
And to consult with someone…
The only one who could answer his questions was Lady Ventress.
But she wasn't given to verbosity.
And, to be honest, Kyp thought she was doing everything to get rid of him and free herself from the role of teacher.
Well, she had told him that at their first meeting.
No one to blame that it turned out exactly like this, and he would likely freeze here faster than he'd learn anything…
Irritation at himself for believing Ventress, Thrawn, the Dominion at all, formed a sticky lump somewhere inside.
He stood in the cold, blasted by wind and snow from all sides, feeling himself grow numb.
And the irritation turned to anger.
What was he doing here?
Why wasn't he being taught anything?
To hell with this Hutt snow!
This Hutt blizzard!
This Sith wind!
The anger spread inside, like a tiny source of energy, warming him with its rays.
Was it really so hard to show him how to protect himself from the cold and blizzard?
Or teach him to handle a lightsaber, so he didn't lug around a blaster like some orphan in a gang district?
The angrier he got, the warmer he became.
Was he a Jensaarai defender's apprentice or what?
What did they even take him for?
A punching bag?
Now tingling sensations, characteristic of a thawing body, ran through his limbs.
Kyp felt he was getting hot in his warm clothes.
He was literally choking on the rage filling him.
Even the blizzard stopped bothering him.
No, the wind hadn't weakened; on the contrary, it raged with even greater force and ferocity.
But Kyp didn't notice it.
At some point, watching the ice strengthen over the hole, he realized he no longer felt the stings of the biting snowflakes on his face.
The youth glanced at his teacher and was surprised to see her looking at him.
He didn't often see an expression of approval and interest in him personally on her face.
To be precise, he had never seen it before.
She mostly didn't look at him at all.
Or preferred to speak in a way that made him leave her alone.
But now…
"You're not entirely hopeless, Kyp Durron," the familiar arrogantly contemptuous smirk didn't appear on her lips.
This… Progress?
What the Hutt did it matter?
This was clearly another mockery.
"You don't say?" he sneered. "What, changed your mind about letting me freeze here and decided to stop turning me into an icicle? Showed some teacherly care and warmed me up?"
And now the familiar smirk appeared on Ventress's face.
"I'm not doing anything," she said. "You're protecting yourself from the blizzard."
"What?" the boy was taken aback, confused and opening his mouth, showing astonishment at her words.
At that same moment, a stream of prickly snow flew into his face, which he almost choked on.
The boy felt the full fury of the storm.
The inner warmth vanished; it became cold again.
And his face began to be pricked by those Hutt snowflakes…
The youth hated them with all his heart, wishing the bad weather would leave him alone.
The embers of anger smoldering within him flared up as if the wind tormenting him had gifted them with pure oxygen.
The heat in his body began to reclaim space from the cold again.
"Excellent," approval was heard in Ventress's voice. "Excellent, my boy. You have a talent for rage…"
Kyp clenched his fingers inside his mittens into fists with all his might.
Oh, how he hated her.
"There are many ways to unleash your hidden power," Ventress said in a lecturing tone, grabbing his chin unceremoniously and jerking his face so he looked her straight in the eyes. "Some feed on the fear, pain, rage of their enemies. Some — detach from everything and become a meat droid. And some — like you and me — draw power from the rage we generate within ourselves. And that's wonderful… Doubly wonderful that you've finally stopped being a wimp and found the source of the Force within yourself. Now we can teach you for real. Today you learned two lessons at once. You know where to draw the Force when you need it. You — are the best source of your own power. Perfect. Sometimes you have to fight those who feel nothing. And if you drew the Force from the emotions of others, you would lose that fight."
It sounded… logical.
"And what's the second lesson?" he asked, struck by the revelation.
He was going to be taught⁈
For real?
But instead of an answer, his cheek was seared by a slap from Ventress.
Taken by surprise, Kyp was thrown sideways.
The wind decided to take it out on him again and mercilessly attacked the youth's face, trying to clog his nostrils.
His cheek burned and stung as if scalding metal had been splashed on it.
And now it was the only spot that wasn't freezing.
"Now you know that without concentration, an adept of the Force cannot protect himself," Ventress said mockingly.
Well, that thought could have been conveyed to him more directly…
Kyp was about to voice that.
And then he understood.
That lesson had been conveyed to him directly.
With a vivid example.
"Someday I will kill you," Durron suddenly declared.
"At least you'll try," Ventress said with boredom in her voice. "If you want that — achieve your dream. Preferably before all my teeth fall out and arthritis twists my joints."
"I will try very hard to surpass you," Kyp promised.
And received another slap.
This time he even managed to defend himself.
Almost.
His face burned like a symbol of his shame.
"Don't try," Ventress said sternly. "Do everything necessary to achieve your goal. If you can't overcome the circumstances — then don't even start."
"If you don't try, you won't know if you'll succeed…"
"Fear of failure is the foundation of failure," Ventress said instructively. "The Sith have a custom. The apprentice kills the master to prove to him that he has learned everything the master could impart. So that the Sith Order would always be strong, the weaker one — must die. And the strong one picks up the banner of the Sith teachings and seeks a new apprentice. In this way, over millennia, the Sith were able to prepare a foothold for the destruction of the Jedi. None of them tried. They killed each other. Some were left crippled afterward. But their willpower allowed them to overcome the limitations of their own bodies."
"We are not Sith," Kyp declared, getting up and almost automatically stoking the flame of anger within him, thanks to which he again protected himself from the raging blizzard. "Killing followers is stupid. Then the Order won't be able to expand and protect the Dominion."
"You think correctly," the Dathomirian witch snorted. "But dragging weaklings into the Order, who will only become a burden — that is the lot of the Jedi."
"Without new adepts, the Jensaarai will be few in number," Durron continued his thought.
"But the weak are worthless warriors," Ventress reminded him. "So what to do, Durron?"
"Find a task for the weak that suits them?" he suggested what seemed to him the most reasonable option. "If a weak one can't be equal to a Jensaarai defender, then maybe he'd be a good pilot? The Force speeds up reaction time, which is important for them…"
"A sensible thought," Ventress agreed. "Even correct… But a mad one is needed. Think more."
"Why is a mad one needed?" the youth wondered.
"Because after we finish on Lur, Shohashi will kick me out of the fleet," admitted the Dathomirian witch. "And we'll be sent to those half-dead Jensaarai so you and I can learn some bland Jedi wisdom while they find us a new assignment. I want, by the time the operation on Lur is complete, for you to have a huge pile of ideas that you and I will dump on the Order's leadership."
"So they'll kick us out of it?"
"Every trained adept of the Force counts," Ventress snorted. "No one will drive us out. They'll send us back to the front. Where we belong."
"You want to be at war," Kyp understood. "So why don't you come up with something that'll make their hair stand on end?"
This time, he actually managed to protect himself from the slap.
"The weak do what they are useful for," Ventress reminded him. "Essentially—what they are ordered to do."
Kyp understood that.
"And the strong—everything necessary to achieve their goal," the young man said.
A grim smile appeared on Ventress's face.
"Clever little runt," she ruffled his cheek with her fingers. "I think you have decent potential. And a great future awaits you. If, of course, you don't die challenging me prematurely."
"I will kill you," Kyp repeated. "And I'll do it when I'm ready."
"Excellent, Kyp, excellent," his words seemed to amuse Ventress. "Such a death is much better than..."
She didn't finish.
But her face expressed a mix of feelings and emotions that Durron couldn't decipher.
"Better than what, teacher?" he asked.
"It doesn't matter," the witch cut him off sharply. "I will turn your life into hell so you have as many motivations as possible to fulfill your promise. Give up—and you'll remain the same helpless weakling who stood in the cold for an hour and a half because he was ordered to. Succeed—and you'll surpass all those Jedi I've fought my entire life. And me, for your information, even Anakin Skywalker couldn't kill. Though I did mess up his face a bit..."
"Deal," Kyp was glad he now had a goal.
Ventress would turn his life into hell?
Who cares.
He already lived in hell.
And hell had tempered him.
This would only be better.
"Well, great, brat," Ventress snorted. "Now—go and negotiate with the locals."
"And where will I find them?" the young man was surprised.
"Clumsy," the Dathomirian witch laughed mockingly, pointing somewhere through the blizzard. "They've been watching us for about an hour, trying to figure out if we're dead or if our survival capabilities match theirs."
"So they've been here all this time?" squinting, Kyp, with the help of his Force-sharpened vision, could make out humanoid figures on the far side of the frozen lake.
"They've been here since the occupation began," Ventress snorted. "Another lesson, runt. When setting up an underground—choose the planet's most unsuitable region for it."
* * *
Grand Admiral Thrawn silently studied the details of the report provided to him by Erik.
Scarlet blazing eyes differed from human ones.
It was almost impossible to tell from them whether they were moving, or if Thrawn was simply staring at one point and contemplating.
No pupils, no irises...
Not that the Vice Admiral was worried his actions would be criticized.
He could explain every step, laying out each reason, each order clearly and systematically.
And he had no doubt Thrawn understood everything without any additional explanations.
Erik, keeping his hand under the table, habitually stroked the engraving of Iran Ryad with his thumb.
But for some reason, it no longer brought him any comfort.
Not anymore.
Something had changed.
And it was unsettling.
"Understood," Thrawn said, breaking the silence.
The Grand Admiral set aside the data pad, then looked into his subordinate's eyes.
"Any additions to the report?" inquired the Supreme Commander of the Dominion.
"No, sir. Everything is in the report."
And though Thrawn's gaze hadn't changed, something suggested to Erik that he was being looked at scrutinizingly.
Not as Thrawn always does.
But as if under a lens.
"Your recommendations regarding commendations for the destroyer commanders will be taken into account," said the Grand Admiral.
"Thank you, sir."
"Lady Ventress's insubordination has objective reasons?"
"She began to behave demonstratively provocatively after the mission to the Chiloon Rift," Erik explained. "Openly provocative speeches. Defiant attire."
"Is that all?" Thrawn clarified.
"Yes, sir."
"Understood," the Grand Admiral repeated. "Your request to transfer Lady Ventress from her position as commander of the Crimson Dawn's ground contingent will also be granted."
"Thank you, sir."
Thrawn was silent for a moment.
"I agree with your assessment," he said. "The enemy understands the significance of our 'Dragons.' And seeks to disable them."
"I believe they intend to destroy them," Erik noted.
"In that case, they would have done exactly that," Thrawn objected. "A disguised frigate, with nothing preventing it from firing on the solar ionization reactor or detonating itself next to the ship. Instead, they destroy the ion cannon. Three times."
"I'm sure they intend to continue their activities in this manner," Shohashi suggested. "The system's exit and entry points are located quite far from Lur."
"Which allows us to use ion artillery to bombard their forces from a great distance," the Grand Admiral continued. "The enemy calculated our standard tactics."
"And deprives us of our advantage in advance," Shohashi agreed. "The conclusion is that they intend to deprive us of ships of this type and force us to commit other forces without 'Dragon' support."
"An interesting combination," Thrawn agreed in a calm tone, as if discussing something unimportant. "The report does not include your thoughts on the ambush the enemy is planning."
This was precisely what Erik was confident about.
"I assume that some of their orbital stations, which were actually present in the system, the Zann Consortium managed to disguise," Erik uttered. "They want to deprive us of long-range weapons so our ships will rush to assault without long-range artillery support."
"Thus luring us into a trap under the crossfire of their ion-plasma cannons," Thrawn said thoughtfully. "The most obvious fact is that in the Lur system, hidden from our view, there are also disguised Aggressor-class star destroyers."
"That is possible, sir," the Vice Admiral agreed. "A significant concern for me is the fact of cloning facilities on the planet; adverse climatic conditions make full-scale landing operations incredibly dangerous."
"Lady Ventress and her apprentice have successfully landed on the planet," Thrawn said. "Reconnaissance units report the enemy strengthening their ground forces. From which we can conclude your assessment of this world's importance to our enemies is entirely objective. The Guardian, the newest destroyers, and the 501st Legion will support you."
"Thank you, sir. But what about the enemy ambush in the system?" Shohashi inquired.
"The same as usual," Thrawn simply answered. "We will fall into it."
* * *
The lock of the thermal airlock clicked behind him, a wave of hot air hit his face.
Kyp smiled, feeling the warmth breathe on his face.
Say what you will, but the icy wasteland left behind was more oppressive than the training methods practiced by Lady Ventress.
Who was walking ahead of him with unhurried dignity, quietly discussing something with the leader of the Lurren, who had been observing them almost from the very first moment the ship crashed.
He wanted to listen to what they were talking about, but Durron was occupied with much more important things right now.
He pulled the gloves off his numb hands and began frantically breathing on his frozen fingers, trying to portray a friendly smile towards the welcoming committee.
The committee, in fact, consisted of several Lurrians.
Or Lurrian.
Who the Hutt knows which is correct.
Kyp caught that they called themselves both ways.
Perhaps the reason was that they didn't speak the main language as cleanly as the sentients visiting them.
Lurrian/Lurrian.
"You with the pale woman?" one of the local "greeters" unexpectedly asked Kyp.
Durron hesitated for a moment.
Primarily because he saw, instead of a fur-covered paw, a perfectly ordinary human hand.
Strong, weathered, with large thumbs and wide nails, under the tips of which blackish dirt was visible.
Or was it just the light falling in the darkness of the underground corridor?
"Exactly," the local's handshake was quite firm. "It's chilly on your surface."
"Lur is an inhospitable place," the greeter answered with a slightly growling accent.
"If I were born here, I'd have moved to a warmer place long ago," Kyp smiled awkwardly and scratched his freezing, tingling ear. "I don't know why you guys cling to this piece of rock so much."
"Lur is our home," the greeter answered in a categorical tone. "We are fine here."
Meanwhile, Ventress was moving further and further away...
Kyp smiled awkwardly.
He needed to say something.
"That's right," the young man blurted out not too originally and looked at his teacher's retreating back. "Shouldn't we follow them?"
"No," the Lurrian answered. "Only leaders speak. We—wait until they talk."
"Um..." Kyp felt awkward. "Okay. Do you have a place where I can warm up? I'm frozen solid..."
The Lurrian was silent for a few seconds, then nodded and motioned for the guest to follow him into a tunnel carved into the rock.
The young man followed him without further ado.
And the first thing that caught his eye was the rather high ceilings of the tunnels—about five meters from floor to ceiling.
Despite not seeing tunnel-boring machines, the marks on the walls indicated that huge mechanical drills with thousands of cutting elements had worked here.
A rather expensive and rare technology that costs a fortune.
Interesting, where did the locals get so much money—each installation of this size and specification cost a fortune.
That's why they were never on Kessel.
Prisoners—that's free labor no one cares about.
For some reason, after talking with Ventress and stating his desire to kill her for her attitude towards him, Kyp was afraid to get angry.
Even if it meant warming heat.
Why—he didn't understand himself yet.
Just...
Just scared.
He valued Ventress as a fierce and unstoppable warrior and saw what she was capable of in open combat.
He wanted to reach that level.
But at the same time, the conditions Ventress set for him...
Seemed simple enough.
If you want to kill—do everything necessary for it.
If you can't—then don't delude yourself into thinking you can achieve such a level of skill.
Extremely clear and open.
Right in the face.
That's what was frightening.
On Kessel, Kyp had been introduced to the secret of touching the Force.
A woman named Vima-da-Bota helped him, telling him what it was and how one could touch the Force, use it to survive in the icy tunnels of the spice planet.
But after he became Ventress's apprentice, all those meditations, mind cleansings, which took him some time—sometimes quite lengthy—seemed like a mockery compared to the ease with which the Dathomirian witch wielded her potential in the Force.
And so, he left Kessel to learn new things, to unlock his potential...
And ended up on Lur.
In tunnels very similar to those permeating Kessel.
"I worked for a long time in tunnels like these," Kyp admitted, surprising even himself.
The guide looked at him.
"Understood."
The young man sensed surprise emanating from the Lurrian.
Well, yeah, why the Hutt did he blurt that out?
"My name is Kyp Durron," the young man remembered.
"Understood."
Seems they didn't really want to talk to him.
Sad.
And what now, sit quietly in a corner and wait until the witch finishes talking with the leader of the Lurrians?
"I'll show you where you can warm up," the guide said when they turned into one of the caves, lit slightly better than the others.
It became clear why.
They were walking along the edge of a huge chasm, in the center of which was a huge reactor, entwined with a network of wires.
From it, like veins, power cables stretched into dozens of corridors, radiating out several levels below.
And on every part of this cave, traces of hundreds of cutters were visible.
Just think!
The Lurrians drilled hundreds of kilometers of rock to build their underground city!
Unfathomable!
Kyp would have gladly observed more, but the guide turned into one of the tunnels.
And the young man quickly followed him.
This gallery turned out to be something like a main street.
Through windows punched in the ice and covered with transparisteel, silhouettes of suspension bridges were visible.
And everywhere he looked, traces of hundreds of tiny drills were visible, which, like one huge drill, had bored huge passages through the thickness of the skarn.
In some places, water ran down the stones and icy ledges, and a rainbow water dust hung over the chasm.
Finally, they reached a large cave.
"Thanks," Kyp nodded, looking around. "Not a luxury suite, but I'm not used to them. And you have it cozy here. Not like on the surface."
Lur is a fairly large planet.
No smaller than Kessel.
The surface is almost completely covered with a thick layer of snow and ice, but under the frozen crust there remained enough fire and heat to support life.
The locals, as he understood, lived in the undergrounds, leaving them only out of great necessity.
Not that it was comfortable here—Kyp didn't notice any traces of construction equipment.
But quite a lot of computers, some centrifuges, transparent cubes, cylinders...
He was shown a large cubbyhole, where he gladly, at the guide's direction, sat on a simple metal chair next to a heating element in the shape of a ten-meter-high cylinder.
And its diameter was almost five meters...
"Big thing," Kyp assessed.
Inside, only a murky liquid was visible, through which it was difficult to see anything.
"Thanks," he smiled, held out his hands, and began to enjoy the warmth. "Cozy here."
"Lur is home," the guide repeated, examining him with genuine interest.
"Yeah, sure," Kyp said distractedly.
Judging by the intonation, the locals clearly meant something important by these words.
And the young man couldn't understand what exactly.
Well, besides that Lur is their home.
Obviously, they are proud of it.
Interesting, could Kyp himself proudly say that he lived on Kessel for so many years?
A difficult question.
He shook his head.
In this cave, there were only four such heating devices, placed in similar large niches.
And all of them—with murky sludge inside.
Strange, the tops of the flasks aren't closed, the smaller transparisteel boxes are completely empty...
"Since you're heating flasks with working fluid, it probably evaporates?" he decided to switch the conversation to something close to the locals.
"Yes," the Lurrian answered. "The solution evaporates."
"Maybe you should cover the vats?" Kyp asked. "Evaporation, condensation, dampness, all that..."
"Dampness is good," the Lurrian unexpectedly declared.
"I wouldn't say so," Kyp shuddered, remembering the indelible mold in the workers' barracks on Kessel.
How many guys died from that stuff.
"Dampness is good," the local repeated. "Dampness—fungus grows well."
Kyp felt like an idiot.
Since when is fungus in a dwelling good?
"Weeell," he drawled. "Probably..."
"Fungus—tasty food," the local puzzled him again. "We feed you. Time to eat."
Kyp shuddered in disgust.
Even on the hungriest day on Kessel, he couldn't even think about eating mold or fungus.
Obviously, the locals' culinary preferences differed greatly from his usual ones.
"Will have to skip dessert," Kyp thought.
"Everyone has their own gastronomic preferences," he said diplomatically, forcing a smile. "I'll pass on the fungus."
The Lurrian looked at him perplexedly.
Furry eyebrows gathered over the bridge of his nose.
He looked as if Kyp had said something utterly stupid or refused the greatest honor.
Well...
Better that than eating such things.
"You think, you—eat fungus?" his guide asked.
Obviously, he doesn't get to speak the common tongue very often, because the more they talked, the stronger the accent sounded and the more mangled his already broken phrases became.
"I'm not hungry," at that moment, his stomach betrayed him with a growl.
Kyp pretended it was nothing.
He'd have to find out if their salvaged emergency kit from the crash site had been brought here.
If not, then...
Well, covering fifteen kilometers across snowy wastelands and mountain ridges—not the most pleasant task, of course.
Especially on an empty stomach.
But the alternative—mold.
He noticed several more Lurrians rolling five transparisteel containers into the cave.
Exactly the same as those already in the room.
Only, unlike the first ones, these were full of...
Black mold.
Kyp literally cringed: one of the containers was heading straight for them.
His stomach tightened into a hard knot.
He absolutely did not want to try this "delicacy."
"I said I'm not hungry," he repeated when the container stopped next to them.
"Time—feed," his guide repeated.
"But I don't want to," the young man stubbornly insisted, ready to jump up and run wherever his eyes looked.
The desire intensified when the transparent container began to rise on a repulsor cushion.
Kyp opened his mouth to object again, but then realized the container wasn't for him.
The transparisteel container reached the edge of the vat, then, tilting, dumped its contents directly inside.
Where it almost immediately disappeared into the murky sludge.
Kyp exhaled in relief.
"The mold is fuel for your heaters," now he understood what food the Lurrian was talking about.
These are bioreactors!
"No," his guide unexpectedly objected, lightly tapping the transparisteel. "Mold—is food."
Kyp looked at him uncomprehendingly.
Then the young man shifted his gaze to the transparisteel, where through the murky sludge, flakes and clumps of black mold became visible, slowly settling to the bottom of the giant reservoir.
And then the liquid bubbled and stirred.
And the next moment, young Durron, sensing a disturbance in the Force and insatiable hunger, screamed and recoiled to the side, knocking over the chair he had been calmly sitting on just moments before.
Across the entire surface of the transparisteel, as far as the eye could see, a huge round mouth had attached itself, its diameter so enormous it could easily swallow several people at once without choking.
Hundreds, even thousands of teeth, sharp, like combat blades, scraped across the transparent barrier with a disgusting screech, after which the creature receded and disappeared into the depths of its flask.
"W-what is that?!" Kyp cried out, pointing fingers at the flask and looking at the Lurrian, who, it seemed, for the first time since their meeting, was smiling. "Did you see that?! No, did you see that monster?!"
"Saw," he confirmed.
"What kind of brute is that?!" Durron couldn't calm down. "It almost ate me!"
"You be safe," declared the Lurrian. "Transparisteel strongest of all. Asgant eat mold. Asgant eat stone. Asgant eat earth. Transparisteel he not can eat."
"W-what?!" Durron was stunned, staring dumbfounded at the murky sludge in the flask, inside which rested the multi-toothed creature. "This... This..."
He fell silent because he understood.
Understood why he hadn't seen any construction machines in the Lurrians' underground city.
They weren't here at all.
All these tunnels, galleries, caves—all of it was created solely with the help of this monster.
Kyp looked at the other similar flasks.
This monster, and others like it.
The Lurrians didn't build underground cities.
These multi-toothed monsters did it for them, simply eating the rock from the inside.
"The Force," Durron gasped. "You... You caught and tamed these brutes? Adapted them for construction?!"
"Of course not," the Lurrian laughed. "We create asgant, so they save us in rocks."
Now that was truly terrifying.
Why did the Dominion even need to liberate those who create monsters that devour rocks?
And are these the only brutes the Lurrians know how to create?