The conquest of the bioch production complex was one of the greatest victories accomplished by the ground forces up to date!
The stellar performance of Venerable Tusa and the Piranha Pri played a critical role in collapsing the coalition of gangs.
If the prideful and cohesive base occupiers insisted on standing their ground, then they could have inflicted quite a lot of damage against their opposition.
Yet due to their crumbling morale, the criminals lacked the ntal fortitude to put up a bitter struggle.
Holding on to the base wasn’t worth losing all of their lives and bios! Gangs were all opportunists by heart and only fought for material gains rather than a higher and more abstract purpose such as defending their state.
Ves and many people in the Larkinson Clan knew this, so they constructed and refined their tactics to specifically exploit this trait!
Even if General Verle wasn’t present to implent this strategy himself, there were plenty of other military officers in the clan who attended his lectures and received his instruction.
The three ch doctrines of the Larkinson Clan were elite developnt, psychological warfare and maneuver warfare.
The tactics the Larkinsons and its allies utilized in their battles up to this point were based on these paradigms.
The imnse success that they enjoyed so far showed that the ch doctrines truly fit the clan. While the older mbers of the clan were already familiar with these notions, the new recruits had all beco impressed by the ease in which the Larkinsons mowed down their opposition!
Throughout the raiding runs, the Larkinsons never shut their doors. Plenty of refugees and desperate Lifers looking for safety decided it was a good idea to flock to the welcoming arms of the imposing airfleet.
Unlike many other ard forces on the planet, the eclectic airfleet never bullied the innocent or attacked the righteous.
Instead, their swords were squarely pointed at the organizations that had stained their hands with Lifer blood. These gangs and groups of depraved ch pilots added to the chaos overtaking the planet and thought that they had beco invincible.
The saviors from the skies decisively proved these delusional criminals wrong!
Due to the relatively good reputation that this growing airfleet accrued, the Lifers who were sick, injured, hungry, overtaken by grief or simply desperate all flocked to the Larkinson Clan!
The influx of hopefuls had gotten so big that the Larkinsons were forced to beco picky again. While Ves welcod any chance at expanding his force, there was no room for burdens who couldn’t contribute anything to the airfleet.
When he looked out at the thousands of hopeful citizens lining up in front of the main gates of the bioch production facility, Ves doubted that more than 1 percent of them would make it through.
Unless they brought sothing of imdiate value such as biochs or valuable expertise, taking them in only drained more resources.
Those that managed to get in all had to get up to speed on what it was ant to be a mber of a clan that traced its roots to a humble third-rate state in an entirely different star sector.
Larkinson Network or not, the cultural differences were too great for the forr Lifers to change their attitudes right away!
If Ves was able to bring the new recruits back to his expeditionary fleet, then he wouldn’t have to worry so much about this problem.
The clan could break them up into small groups and distribute them throughout the sh.i.p.s of his fleet. By making sure that every Lifer was surrounded by lots of regular Larkinsons, the newcors would rapidly conform to the clan because of constant exposure to a different way of life.
Together with the constant influence from the Golden Cat, it would only take a few months for these newcors to be able to work seamlessly with other Larkinsons.
"It’s too bad that this is not an option..." Ves sighed.
The scale of his airfleet grew so much that he had to accommodate thousands of Lifers. So of them possessed vital skills such as the ability to service biochs or crew a biovessel.
When the Lifers began to outnumber the foreigners from another star sector by two-to-one, the integration process stalled.
The more established Larkinsons weren’t as capable in convincing the forr Lifers to alter their views or convince them to embrace typical Larkinson values.
There were too many other forr citizens of the LRA in their midst who each preferred to maintain as many views and habits of their ho state as possible!
While Ves worried a lot about this issue, he had little choice but to let it slide. As long as the new recruits remained loyal, he reluctantly tolerated the quirks of the locals he absorbed.
Yet due to the fact that the initial batch of recruits consisted of so of the most desperate kind of refugees, not everyone was able to find their place in the Larkinson Clan. Under these difficult circ.u.mstances, the clan was unable to treat the clansn as well as they should or invest enough attention to make sure they received the attention they needed.
On the day after the airfleet took over the large complex, an older man wearing a freshly-fabricated red-and-white uniform of the Larkinson Clan entered the main production complex. The armored guards stationed at the sides allowed him to pass without a fuss.
"Good day, Dr. Redmont."
"Good day to you too, fellow." Nigel Redmont-Larkinson smiled and nodded at a younger worker who directed a bot that carried a sack of beetle eggs."Where are you taking these eggs?"
"They’re headed back to our airfleet. We don’t have enough of them and there are way too many chores that need to be done that only beetles can do. It’s better to have too many of them than the other way around."
"I see."
They chatted briefly but continued on with their duties. Nigel continued to pass through a number of corridors and halls.
Even though the Larkinsons didn’t actually own this massive bioch production complex, their guards still manned the checkpoints.
The security procedures also beco more c.u.mberso. Nigel went from passing through the checkpoints without interruption to being patted and scanned for any spy devices or sabotage equipnt.
The guards and security systems found nothing, because Nigel did not carry anything suspicious to begin with. Aside from his uniform, he only carried a biocomm on his wrist and so inconsequential identity cards and authentication tools in his pockets.
He didn’t even carry a single weapon!
Only after completing the entire routine was he allowed to enter the most valuable space in the building.
The enormous hall had ceilings that stretched over a hundred ters into the air and covered an area that was large enough to host a full ch company.
What was remarkable was that this was just one of several halls of the expansive production complex!
None of the preceding conquests of the Larkinson Clan matched the scale and sophistication of this production facility.
What was special about it was that every bioch that used to be in ’production’ had been taken out of the feeder pools and left to dry out on the ground.
Each of these shriveling bioch embryos were sized differently. The more recent ones were as small as an aircar, while the ones that had almost finished their growth cycle only looked a bit skinnier than a finished bioch.
Yet as long as they weren’t finished, they were of no use to the Larkinson Clan. They had to make way for damaged biochs that urgently needed repairs and servicing. The feeder pools that used to grow new biochs could also be employed to redy existing chs without employing too much effort.
This was one of the advantages of working with biochs. The infrastructure required to grow them and repair them was c.u.mberso, but once the feeder pools were in place, they could perform all kinds of useful work without requiring too much manpower.
"Nigel!" Soone called. "Did you make so progress on finding the right formula to feed so of our biochs?"
"I have developed so ideas last night. I will try them out and see whether the stubborn biochs will finally absorb the nutrients."
Not every bioch was created equal. Different bioch designers adopted different kinds of organic matter in their work, and each of them had to be fed with a unique formula of feeding stock.
Many formulas were public, but there were so bioch models that required a special blend of nutrients.
Puzzling them out without access to the right doc.u.ntation was like a difficult puzzle. While the chance of stumbling on the right formula was low, soone familiar with feeder stock could still perform lots of tests to see which nutrients reacted well to a specific bioch model and go from there.
As Nigel entered a secure control room, he approached the main workstation and slotted in a physical authentication device.
He gained total control of twenty feeder pools! With the borrowed authority at his disposal, he could drain the feeder pools, alter its temperature and change the formulas of the feeder stock.
Right now, a handful of feeder pools showed warning signs. The biochs placed in these pools required urgent repairs, but they were imrsed in the wrong formula of feeder stock!
The lack of correct substances and nutrients ant that their repair process proceeded a lot slower than it should.
The clan tasked a group of bioch designers to deduce the right formulas so that these stubborn biochs would finally be able to enjoy the care they deserved.
Nigel began to tap his fingers across the projected interface with great familiarity. He concentrated on a specific feeder pool and completely changed its initial formula.
Once he finished, he checked the chosen materials and made sure their proportions were correct.
At this point, he should have asked his colleagues in the room to check over his proposal. Perhaps he overlooked sothing that might result in a problem if applied.
The old man didn’t do that. Instead, his fingers moved to duplicate the formula to all of the other feeder pools, even the ones that were already working correctly!
Without giving him any ti to question his actions, Nigel pressed the button to force the feeder pools in the current hall to use his new formula.
A strange beep sounded out from his console that requested for Nigal to authenticate himself again.
As he did so, he was just about to press the button that confird his choice, only to halt at the last second.
His finger only had to press a little lower, but for so reason a pressure built up in his mind that heavily discouraged him from going through.
"Ahh! What... is this?"
Was his guilty conscience acting up? That was impossible! His cause was just and his reasons were sound.
Yet despite all of that, Nigel suddenly felt uncomfortable in a way that caused him to beco increasingly more concerned.
His outburst along with his frozen posture attracted the attention of other colleagues.
"Dr. Redmont, what is the matter? Wait, why do I feel..."
The other bioch designers and assorted experts all felt there was sothing wrong. Normally, they respected Nigel’s knowledge and experience, but right now they felt that their supervisor was a threat for so reason!
"Am I sick?"
"I might have drunk the wrong coffee this morning."
Even as the feeling of wrongness continued to intensify, the Lifers in the control room had never received any relevant instructions. They were all confused instead vigilant!
During this ti, Nigel gritted his teeth and tried to press the projected button with greater and greater force.
Though the strange ntal pressure in his mind was strong, his determination to fulfill his mission was greater!
"HAAAAAAA!"
After crying out his breath, Nigel forcefully managed to press the projected button!
A few seconds of silence passed before a change took place. Every feeder pool in the hall began to roil as the existing feeder stock drained away. Soon, a new formula poured inside the empty pools.
As soon as the new stock started to get into contact with biochs, smoke started to sizzle from the pools.
The feeder stock weren’t nurturing the organic machines. Instead, they were killing them! The corrosion was so great that toxic fus were already beginning to escape the open pools!
"What is going on? The biochs are corroding!"
"Reverse the latest procedure! Activate the failsafes!"
"It’s Dr. Redmont! He’s responsible for all of this! Stop him before he can do anything worse!!"
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