Kyp Durron shivered as the bone-chilling wind tried to knock him off his feet.
The young man stayed upright, and in retaliation, the capricious weather threw a flurry of prickly snowflakes into his face.
He pulled the edges of his fur jacket's hood forward to shield his face, but realized he couldn't stretch any 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 standing in the staggering wind wearing barely a simple cloak, not even shivering from the cold, the young man felt a surge of icy terror.
"If only I knew how," he grumbled.
"Think," Ventress stated just as impassively, continuing to stare at the hole in the frozen lake on whose shore they stood, a hole being swept over by snow and wind.
"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 that considered itself the ultimate truth, the only ones with the right to teach about the Force, die out. Some I killed myself. Others were killed by the Dark Acolytes of Count Dooku. Most were put down by the clones of the Grand Army of the Republic."
"A rather truncated lecture on the fall of the Jedi Order," Kip began shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I was told something different about the Order…"
"And what was that?" Ventress inquired, just as detachedly.
"A lot of things… Certainly not that the Jedi considered themselves the ultimate truth."
"Did anyone tell you that the Jedi destroyed any cults studying the Force if they considered their teachings aligned with the Dark Side?" Ventress asked. "Some they eradicated entirely. Others they 'warned,' ready to dispatch an assault group at the first mistake."
"They didn't wipe out the Jensaarai…"
"They almost managed," Ventress said. "The fact that anyone survived is not a failure of the Jedi. It's the Jensaarai's own accomplishment. Though, I'm inclined to see this Order's survival as the result of both factors I mentioned. In any case — the Jedi became 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 more adapted for the future. You could even say the Force performed natural selection. Only those who know how to use it best survived."
'So the Jedi didn't finish the job, and the Jensaarai are great guys.'
His toes were starting to go numb.
Kyp hoped his teacher wasn't such a heartless brute that she'd let him freeze to death.
And if she did, she'd at least tell him it wasn't for nothing…
"So the fact that you survived means you're better than the Jedi?" Kyp clarified, trying to warm his numbing fingers with his breath.
"I killed a great many Jedi," Ventress stated. "And not a single one of them can boast of having finished me off. So yes, I am better than them. More adaptable."
"Sounds logical," Durron nodded toward the ice hole that was starting to freeze over. "But it didn't make you the best pilot in the galaxy."
"Shut up. And stand still until I tell you to move."
If the submerged remains of their ship made any sound, it was inaudible over the noise of the wind.
Ventress still stared at the gap in the hard shell of the mountain lake, now covered with a thin layer of ice.
Kyp, for his part, looked at the several supply containers they had managed to salvage.
The atmosphere of Lura was a true disaster for pilots.
Storms and winds that lifted tons of snow into the air swirled this white mass to such speeds that anyone descending here got the impression of a giant snow blender at work.
Kyp and Ventress's shuttle had literally been torn apart in mid-air.
Despite the fact that no one had shot at them or even noticed their arrival in the system.
For several days, Lady Ventress had been devising a plan to infiltrate the Zann Consortium's guarded Lura…
Since no ship could race past all the military starships of the Zann Consortium that had established themselves in orbit of this planet in the Aparo sector…
Two attempts to attack them had resulted in the Red Star losing all three Venator-class Star Destroyers attached to it.
Well, 'losing'…
The enemy had destroyed their main weapons — the ion cannons — with which Rear Admiral Shohashi had hoped to breach the planet's orbital defenses.
They had been forced to withdraw without even deploying Ventress and Durron's landing party to the surface.
Shohashi had switched to a blockade strategy, laying minefields around the system's exits.
Even Kyp, with his lack of military education, understood that the Rear Admiral was waiting for something.
Actually, that's what his brother, who had military training on Carida, had told him…
But he had also turned out to be wrong.
Nothing changed even after a dozen brand-new Dominion Star Destroyers arrived at the Red Star's location two weeks ago…
Star Destroyers that retained all the distinctive external features of the Imperial-class, incorporating the expanded artillery of the Triumph-class, improved shielding, deflector field booster generators, laser beam point-defense artillery, and much more.
The silhouette was similar to the same Imperial-class, but the hull looked less… angular, somehow.
In Kyp's opinion, instead of sharpness and severity, the ship's lines had become somewhat smoother, friendlier, perhaps…
Judging by the fact that the Star Destroyers from the Red Star had left the squadron and Shohashi had been given a dozen DSDs — Dominion Star Destroyers — in their place, the situation should have changed dramatically…
But the Rear Admiral kept waiting…
What exactly he was waiting for only became clear yesterday.
The Guardian Super Star Destroyer had arrived at the Red Star's position.
Along with Grand Admiral Thrawn.
Delivering a cloaked ship.
A shuttle, still bearing the colors and insignia of the Zann Consortium on its hull.
And it was now slowly, piece by piece, sinking beneath the waters of a mountain lake on the planet Lura.
They had only managed to survive because Ventress had been able to stabilize the ship for a short time before its crash and jettison some containers of emergency supplies near the crash site.
Kyp wasn't sure he could have survived the fall from that height without a jetpack.
While Ventress herself had simply tumbled from a height of several hundred meters into a huge snowdrift without much trouble.
And not only had she not broken every bone in her body.
She didn't even seem to have any bruises or scratches.
So he really shouldn't be worrying about whether she'd freeze or not.
Kyp didn't know why they'd landed in this particular part of the planet — where the winds and blizzards were strongest.
He knew their task was to make contact with the local population and set up some kind of underground resistance on the planet.
Why exactly this way — he didn't know.
Why they couldn't attack the enemy forces head-on — he didn't know that either.
And there was no one to ask...
The only person who could answer his questions was Lady Ventress.
But eloquence had never been her strong suit.
And honestly, Kyp thought she was doing everything she could to get rid of him and free herself from the burden of being his teacher.
Well, she'd told him as much at their very first meeting.
He had no one to blame for ending up like this, likely to freeze here faster than he learned anything...
Irritation at himself for trusting Ventress — and Thrawn, and the Dominion as a whole — formed a sticky lump somewhere inside.
He stood in the freezing cold, battered by wind and snow from all sides, feeling himself stiffen.
And the irritation turned into anger.
What was he even doing here?
Why wasn't anyone teaching him anything?
To hell with this hutt snow!
This hutt blizzard!
This sith wind!
The anger spread inside him 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 the storm?
Or teach him how to use a lightsaber so he wouldn't have to carry a blaster like some idiot, like a street orphan in a gang district?
The angrier he got, the warmer he felt.
Was he a Jensaarai Defender's apprentice or what?
What did they even take him for?
A punching bag?
Pins and needles started running through his limbs, the kind that came with warming up.
Kyp felt himself getting hot in his warm clothes.
He was literally suffocating from the rage building inside him.
Even the blizzard stopped bothering him.
No, the wind hadn't died down — on the contrary, it raged even harder and fiercer.
But Kyp didn't notice.
At some point, watching the ice thicken over the open water, he realized he could no longer feel the sting of biting snowflakes on his face.
He glanced at his teacher and was surprised to see her looking back at him.
He didn't often see approval or interest in her expression when she looked at him.
Actually, he'd never seen it before.
She mostly didn't look at him at all.
Or preferred to say just enough to make him go away.
But now...
"You're not as hopeless as I thought, Kyp Durron," she said, no trace of her usual arrogant, contemptuous smirk.
Was that... progress?
What the hutt difference did it make?
This was obviously another taunt.
"Is that so?" he shot back sarcastically. "What, changed your mind about letting me freeze to death out here, and decided to stop turning me into an icicle? Showing some teacherly care and warming me up?"
And now Ventress's face wore that familiar smirk.
"I'm not doing anything at all," she said. "You're protecting yourself from the blizzard."
"What?" The boy was taken aback, his mouth falling open in shock at what she'd said.
At that exact moment, a gust of stinging snow hit him right in the face, nearly choking him.
The full fury of the storm crashed into him.
The inner warmth faded. He was cold again.
And those hutt snowflakes started biting into his face again...
The boy hated them with all his heart, wishing the storm would just leave him alone.
The embers of anger smoldering inside him flared up, as if the wind tormenting him had fed them the purest oxygen.
The heat inside him began reclaiming ground from the cold once more.
"Excellent," Ventress's voice carried approval. "Excellent, my boy. You have a talent for rage..."
Kyp clenched his fingers inside his gloves as hard as he could.
Oh, how he hated her.
"There are many ways to unlock your hidden power," Ventress said in a lecturing tone, grabbing him by the chin unceremoniously and turning his face so he had to look her in the eye. "Some feed on fear, pain, the rage of their enemies. Some detach from everything and become meat droids. And some — people like you and me — draw power from the rage we kindle inside ourselves. And that's beautiful... doubly beautiful that you've finally stopped being a pushover and found your inner source of power. Now I can actually teach you. You've learned two lessons today. You know where to draw power when you need it. You are the best source of your own strength. The perfect one. Sometimes you have to fight those who feel nothing. And if you drew power from others' emotions, you'd lose that fight."
It sounded... logical.
"And the second lesson?" he asked, stunned by the revelation.
They were going to teach him?
For real?
Instead of answering, Ventress slapped him across the face.
Kyp staggered sideways from the shock.
The wind decided to get its revenge and mercilessly attacked his face again, trying to fill his nostrils with snow.
His cheek burned and stung as if splashed with molten metal.
And right now, it was the only spot that wasn't freezing.
"Now you know that without concentration, a Force Adept can't protect himself," Ventress said smugly.
Couldn't she have just told him that directly?...
Kyp was about to say so.
Then he understood.
She had taught him directly.
With a visual demonstration.
"I'll kill you one day," Durron suddenly declared.
"At least you'll try," Ventress said, boredom in her voice. "If that's what you want — make that dream a reality. Preferably before all my teeth fall out and arthritis twists my joints."
"I will work very hard to surpass you," Kyp promised.
And got another slap.
This time he almost managed to defend himself.
Almost.
His face burned like a symbol of his shame.
"Don't try," Ventress told him sternly. "Do whatever is necessary to achieve your goal. If you can't overcome the circumstances — don't even start."
"If you never try, you won't know if you can do it..."
"Fear of failure is the foundation of failure," Ventress intoned. "The Sith have a tradition. The student kills the teacher to prove he's learned everything the teacher could pass on. So the Sith Order always remains strong — the weaker one must die. And the strong one picks up the banner of Sith teaching and finds a new student. This way, over millennia, the Sith prepared a staging ground to destroy the Jedi. None of them tried. They killed each other. Some ended up crippled. But their willpower let them overcome the limits of their own bodies."
"We are not Sith," Kyp declared, getting up and almost automatically stoking the flame of anger inside him, which once again shielded him from the raging blizzard. "Killing followers is stupid. The Order won't be able to expand and protect the Dominion that way."
"Right thinking," the Dathomirian witch snorted. "But dragging weaklings into the Order who'd just be a burden — that's the Jedi way."
"Without new adepts, the Jensaarai will remain few in number," Durron continued his thought.
"But the weak make lousy warriors," Ventress reminded him. "So what do we do, Durron?"
"Find something the weak can handle?" he suggested what seemed to him the most reasonable option. "If a weakling can't stand alongside a Jensaarai Defender, maybe he'd make a decent pilot? The Force speeds up reflexes, which are important for them..."
"A sound idea," Ventress agreed. "Even a correct one... But we need a crazy one. Think again."
"Why does it need to be crazy?" the boy asked in surprise.
"Because after we're done on Loor, Shohashi will kick me off the fleet," the Dathomirian witch admitted. "And they'll ship us off to those dried-up Jensaarai so you and I can learn some bland Jedi wisdom while they find us a new assignment. I want you to have a massive pile of ideas by the time the operation on Loor wraps up — ideas you and I will dump on the Order's leadership."
"So they'll kick us out of it?"
"Every trained Force Adept counts," Ventress snorted. "No one's kicking us out. They'll send us back to the front. Where we belong."
"You want to be at war," Kyp understood. "Then why don't you come up with something that'll make their hair stand on end?"
This time he managed to block the slap.
"The weak do what they're useful for," Ventress reminded him. "In practice — what they're ordered to do."
Kyp understood that.
"And the strong do whatever is necessary to achieve their goal," the boy said.
A grim smile appeared on Ventress's face.
"Clever little brat," she pinched his cheek with her fingers. "I think you have considerable potential. And a great future awaits you. If, of course, you don't die challenging me too soon."
"I'll kill you," Kyp repeated. "And I'll do it when I'm ready."
"Excellent, Kyp. Excellent," his words seemed to amuse Ventress. "That kind of death is much better than..."
She didn't finish.
But her face showed a mix of feelings and emotions that Durron couldn't quite decipher.
"Than what, teacher?" he asked.
"Never mind," the witch cut him off sharply. "I'll make your life a hell so you have as much motivation as possible to keep your promise. Give up — and you'll stay the same helpless crybaby who stood out in the cold for an hour and a half just because he was ordered to. Succeed — and you'll surpass every Jedi I've fought my whole life. And let me remind you — even Anakin Skywalker couldn't kill me. Though I did mess up his face..."
"Deal," Kyp was glad he finally had a goal.
Ventress would make his life hell?
He didn't care.
He'd already lived in hell.
And hell had made him strong.
This would only make things better.
"Well then, you little brat," Ventress snorted. "Now go negotiate with the locals."
"And where am I supposed to find them?" the boy asked in surprise.
"Amateur," the Dathomirian witch laughed mockingly, pointing somewhere through the blizzard. "They've been watching us for an hour, trying to figure out if we're dead or if we match their survival skills."
"So they've been here the whole time?" Kyp squinted, using his Force-sharpened vision to make out humanoid figures on the far side of the frozen lake.
"They've been here since the occupation began," Ventress snorted. "Another lesson, little one. When you're setting up an underground resistance — pick the most inhospitable region on the planet."
* * *
Grand Admiral Thrawn silently studied the details of the report Eric had given him.
His blazing red eyes were different from human ones.
It was almost impossible to tell if they were moving, or if Thrawn was simply staring at one spot, lost in thought.
No pupils. No irises...
Not that the Rear Admiral was worried his actions would be criticized.
He could explain every step he'd taken, breaking down each reason, each order clearly and precisely.
And he had no doubt Thrawn understood everything perfectly well without any additional explanation.
Eric kept his hand under the table, thumb stroking the engraving of Iran Ryad out of habit.
But somehow it didn't bring him any comfort anymore.
Not anymore.
Something had changed.
And that was unsettling.
"I see," Thrawn said, breaking the silence.
The Grand Admiral set aside the data slate, then looked his subordinate in the eye.
"Any additions to the report?" the Supreme Commander of the Dominion inquired.
"No, sir. Everything is in the report."
Thrawn's expression hadn't changed, but something told Eric he was being studied.
Not in Thrawn's usual way.
But as if under a lens.
"Your recommendations regarding commendations for the destroyer commanders will be noted," the Grand Admiral said.
"Thank you, sir."
"Does Lady Ventress's insubordination have objective reasons?"
"She started behaving demonstratively after the assignment in the Chiloon Rift," Eric explained. "Openly provocative speech. Insubordinate manner of dress."
"Is that all?" Thrawn clarified.
"Yes, sir."
"I see," 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 value of our Dragons. And they're trying to disable them."
"I believe they intend to destroy them outright," Eric noted.
"In that case, they would have done exactly that," Thrawn countered. "A disguised frigate with nothing preventing it from opening fire on the solar ionization reactor or detonating itself near the ship. Instead, they destroy the ion cannon. Three times."
"I'm certain they intend to continue this pattern," Shohashi suggested. "The system's entry and exit points are quite far from Loor."
"Which allows us to use ion artillery to bombard their forces from long range," the Grand Admiral continued. "The enemy has calculated our standard tactics."
"And deprives us of that advantage in advance," Shohashi agreed. "Which implies they intend to eliminate our 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 trivial. "Your report doesn't include your thoughts on the ambush the enemy is planning."
This was exactly what Eric had been certain of.
"I suspect Zann Consortium has managed to camouflage some of their orbital stations that were actually present in the system," Eric said. "They want to deprive us of long-range weapons so our ships rush into battle without long-range support artillery."
"Thus luring us into a trap under crossfire from their ion-plasma cannons," Thrawn said thoughtfully. "The most obvious possibility is that the Loor system also contains camouflaged Aggressor-class Star Destroyers hidden from our eyes."
"That's possible, sir," the Rear Admiral agreed. "My main concern is the presence of cloning facilities on the planet. Combined with unfavorable climatic conditions, full-scale landing operations become extremely dangerous."
"Lady Ventress and her apprentice have landed on the planet successfully," Thrawn said. "Reconnaissance units report the enemy reinforcing their ground forces. This suggests your assessment of the planet's importance to our enemies is completely 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 asked.
"The same as always," Thrawn replied simply. "We'll fall into it."
* * *
The lock on the thermal airlock clicked behind him, and a wave of hot air hit his face.
Kyp smiled as he felt the warmth wash over him.
Whatever anyone said, the frozen wasteland he'd left behind him was more oppressive than Lady Ventress's teaching methods.
She was walking ahead of him with unhurried dignity, speaking quietly with the leader of the Lurrens — who had been watching them almost from the very moment the ship had landed.
He wanted to listen in on what they were saying, but Durron was preoccupied with much more important things.
He pulled off his gloves from his numb hands and breathed furiously onto his frozen fingers, trying to force a friendly smile for the welcoming committee.
The committee consisted of several Lurrians.
Or Lurrens.
Only a hutt knew which was correct.
Kyp had heard them call themselves both ways.
Maybe it was because they didn't speak Basic as cleanly as their visitors did.
Lurrian/Lurren.
"Are you with the pale woman?" one of the locals "greeting" him suddenly asked Kyp.
Durron hesitated for a moment.
Mostly because instead of a fur-covered paw, he saw a perfectly ordinary human hand.
Strong, weathered, with large fingers and wide nails with dark dirt under the tips.
Or was that just how the light fell in the darkness of the underground corridor?
"That's right," the local's handshake was firm enough. "It's cold up there on the surface."
"Loor is an inhospitable place," the greeter replied with a slightly growling accent.
"If I'd been born here, I'd have moved somewhere warmer a long time ago," Kyp smiled awkwardly and scratched his frozen, tingling ear. "I don't know why you're so attached to this hunk of rock, you guys."
"Loor is our home," the greeter replied in a categorical tone. "We are comfortable here."
Meanwhile, Ventress was getting further and further away...
Kyp smiled awkwardly.
He needed to say something.
"That's right," the boy blurted out, not very originally, and looked at his teacher's retreating back. "Shouldn't we follow them?"
"No," the Lurrian replied. "Only the leaders speak. We wait until they finish talking."
"Uh..." Kyp felt uncomfortable. "Okay then. Is there somewhere I can warm up? I'm really frozen..."
The Lurrian was silent for a few seconds, then nodded and beckoned the guest to follow him into a tunnel carved into the rock.
The boy followed without a word.
The first thing that struck him was the height of the tunnels — about five meters from floor to ceiling.
Even though he hadn't seen any drilling machines, the marks on the walls showed that enormous mechanical drills with thousands of cutting elements had worked here.
A pretty expensive and rare technology that cost a fortune.
He wondered where the locals got so much money — every installation of this size and specification cost a pile of credits.
That's why they'd never had them on Kessel.
Prisoners were free labor that no one felt sorry for.
After his conversation with Ventress and declaring his desire to kill her for how she treated him, Kyp was afraid to get angry.
Even if that meant losing his warming heat.
He didn't quite understand why himself.
He just...
Just scared.
He respected Ventress as a fierce, unstoppable warrior and knew what she was capable of in open combat.
He wanted to reach that level.
But at the same time, the conditions Ventress had set for him...
They didn't sound complicated.
Want to kill — do whatever it takes.
Can't do it — don't delude yourself into thinking you can reach that level of skill.
Perfectly clear and open.
Right in the face.
That's what scared him.
On Kessel, Kyp had been given a glimpse into the secret of using the Force.
A woman named Vima-da-Bota had helped him, telling him what it was and how to access the Force, how to use it to survive in the icy tunnels of the spice planet.
But after he became Ventress's apprentice, all those meditations, those purifications of the mind that took considerable time — sometimes very long — seemed like a mockery of the ease with which the Dathomirian witch wielded her Force potential.
And now he'd gotten out of Kessel to learn something new, to unlock his potential...
And ended up on Loor.
In tunnels very similar to those that riddled Kessel.
"I worked in tunnels like these for a long time," Kyp admitted unexpectedly, even to himself.
His guide looked at him.
"I see."
The young man sensed surprise from the Lurrian.
Well, what the hutt had made him blurt that out?
"My name is Kyp Durron," the boy caught himself.
"I see."
It seemed his guide wasn't particularly interested in talking.
Sad.
So now he just had to sit quietly in a corner and wait until the witch finished talking with the Lurrian leader?
"I'll show you where you can warm up," the guide said as they turned into one of the caves, which was slightly better lit than the others.
The reason soon became clear.
They were walking along the edge of a huge chasm, in the center of which sat an enormous reactor, tangled in a web of wires.
Power cables stretched from it like veins into dozens of corridors radiating outwards across several levels below.
And on every part of this cave, marks from hundreds of cutters were visible.
Just imagine!
The Lurrians had drilled hundreds of kilometers of rock to build their underground city!
It was mind-boggling!
Kyp would have gladly kept watching, but his guide turned into one of the tunnels.
And the boy hurried after him.
This gallery turned out to be something like a main street.
Through windows punched through the ice and covered with transparisteel, silhouettes of hanging bridges were visible.
And everywhere he looked, he saw traces of hundreds of tiny drills that, like one huge auger, had bored enormous passages through the thickness of the skarn.
In some places, water trickled down rocks and icy ledges, and rainbow water dust hung over the chasm.
Eventually they reached a large cave.
"Thanks," Kyp nodded, looking around. "Not a luxury suite, but I'm not used to those anyway. Cozy down here. Not like on the surface."
Loor was a pretty big planet.
At least as big as Kessel.
The surface was almost completely covered in a thick layer of snow and ice, but beneath the frozen crust, there was enough fire and heat to sustain life.
The locals, as far as he could tell, lived underground, never leaving without good reason.
Not that it was comfortable here — Kyp didn't see any signs of construction equipment.
But there were plenty of computers, some centrifuges, transparent cubes, cylinders...
He was directed to a large alcove where, at his guide's instruction, he gladly sat on a simple metal chair next to a heating element shaped like a ten-meter-tall cylinder.
It must have been about five meters in diameter...
"That's a big thing," Kyp estimated.
Inside, only a murky liquid was visible, through which it was hard to make out anything.
"Thanks," he said, smiling, holding out his hands and enjoying the warmth. "Cozy here."
"Loor is home," the guide repeated, looking at him with genuine interest.
"Yes, of course," Kyp said absently.
Judging by the tone, the locals clearly meant something important by those words.
And the boy couldn't quite figure out what.
Except that Loor was their home.
They were obviously proud of it.
He wondered if Kyp himself could say with pride that he'd lived on Kessel for so many years?
Hard question.
He looked around.
This cave had only four such heating units, placed in similarly large alcoves.
And every single one of them had murky sludge inside.
Strange — the tops of the vats weren't sealed, and the smaller transparisteel containers were completely empty...
"If you're heating the vats with working fluid, it must be evaporating, right?" he decided to steer the conversation toward something the locals would understand.
"Yes," the Lurrian replied. "The solution evaporates."
"Maybe you should cover the tanks?" Kyp asked. "Evaporation, condensation, humidity, all that..."
"Humidity is good," the Lurrian said unexpectedly.
"I wouldn't say that." Kyp shuddered, remembering the stubborn mold in the worker barracks on Kessel.
How many guys had died from that stuff.
"Humidity is good," the local repeated. "Humidity — good for growing fungus."
Kyp felt like an idiot.
Since when was having fungus in your home a good thing?
"We-e-ell," he drawled. "I suppose..."
"Fungus — tasty food," the local baffled him again. "We feed you. Time to eat."
Kyp shuddered with disgust.
Even on the hungriest day on Kessel, they couldn't even think about eating mold or fungus.
Clearly, the locals' culinary preferences were very different from what he was used to.
"I'll have to skip dessert," Kyp thought.
"Everyone has their own gastronomic preferences," he said diplomatically, forcing a strained smile. "I'll pass on the fungus."
The Lurrian looked at him in confusion.
His furry brows drew together above the bridge of his nose.
He stared as if Kyp had said something incredibly stupid or refused the greatest honor.
Well...
Better that than eating that stuff.
"You think — you eat fungus?" his guide asked.
It was obvious he didn't get to speak Basic very often, because the more they talked, the stronger his accent became and the more he mangled the already broken phrases.
"I'm not hungry." At that moment, his stomach traitorously rumbled.
Kyp pretended it was nothing.
He'd have to find out if their emergency kit from the crash site had been brought here.
If not, then...
Well, covering fifteen kilometers across snow-covered wastelands and mountain ridges wasn't exactly pleasant.
Especially on an empty stomach.
But the alternative was mold.
He spotted several more Lurrians rolling five transparisteel containers into the cave.
Exactly the same kind as the ones already in the room.
Except, unlike the first ones, these were full of...
Black mold.
Kyp literally doubled over: one of the containers was heading straight for them.
His stomach knotted up.
He had absolutely no desire to try that "delicacy."
"I told you, I'm not hungry," he repeated when the container stopped next to them.
"Time — to feed," his guide repeated.
"I don't want any," the young man stubbornly resisted, ready to jump up and run as far as his legs would carry him.
The urge grew stronger 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 meant for him.
The transparisteel tank reached the edge of the vat, then tilted and dumped its contents straight inside.
Where it practically disappeared into the murky sludge instantly.
Kyp sighed in relief.
"Mold is fuel for your heaters." Now he understood what food the Lurrian had been talking about.
These were bioreactors!
"No," his guide objected unexpectedly, tapping lightly on the transparisteel. "Mold — is food."
Kyp stared at him in confusion.
Then the young man looked back at the transparisteel, where through the murky sludge, flakes and clumps of black mold became visible, slowly settling to the bottom of the giant tank.
And then the liquid bubbled and churned.
The next moment, young Durron felt a disturbance in the Force and an insatiable hunger, and he cried out as he jumped back, knocking over the chair he'd been sitting on so calmly just moments before.
Across the entire surface of the transparisteel, as far as the eye could see, a massive circular mouth attached itself — its diameter so enormous it could easily swallow several people whole without even choking.
Hundreds, even thousands of teeth, sharp as combat blades, scraped against the transparent barrier with a disgusting screech, before the creature pulled back and disappeared into the depths of its tank.
"Wh-what is that?!" Kyp shouted, pointing at the tank and looking at the Lurrian, who, for the first time since they'd met, seemed to be smiling. "Did you see that?! No, did you see that monster?!"
"I saw," he confirmed.
"What the hell is that thing?!" Durron couldn't calm down. "It almost ate me!"
"You are safe," the Lurrian stated. "Transparisteel is strongest. Asgnat eat mold. Asgnat eat stone. Asgnat eat earth. Transparisteel — it cannot eat."
"Wh-what?!" Durron was stunned, staring dazedly at the murky sludge in the tank, inside which the many-toothed creature rested. "That's... That's..."
He fell silent because he understood.
Understood why he hadn't seen any construction machinery in the Lurrians' underground city.
There was none here at all.
All those tunnels, galleries, caves — all of it was created exclusively by this monster.
Kyp looked at the other identical tanks.
This monster, and others like it.
The Lurrians didn't build underground cities.
For them, the many-toothed monsters did it, simply eating the rock from the inside.
"The Force," Durron gasped. "You... You caught and tamed these creatures? Adapted them for construction?!"
"Of course not," the Lurrian laughed. "We create asgnat to save us in rocks."
Now that was truly terrifying.
Why would the Dominion need to free those who create monsters that devour rock?
And are these the only creatures the Lurrians can create?