Chapter 2860 - Straining Integration

The conquest of the biomech 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 Prime 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 mental fort.i.tude to put up a bitter struggle.

Holding on to the base wasn't worth losing all of their lives and biomes! 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 implement this strategy himself, there were plenty of other military officers in the clan who attended his lectures and received his instruction.

The three mech doctrines of the Larkinson Clan were elite development, 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 immense success that they enjoyed so far showed that the mech doctrines truly fit the clan. While the older members of the clan were already familiar with these notions, the new recruits had all become 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 armed 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 mech pilots added to the chaos overtaking the planet and thought that they had become 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 become picky again. While Ves welcomed 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 biomech production facility, Ves doubted that more than 1 percent of them would make it through.

Unless they brought something of immediate value such as biomechs 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 meant to be a member 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 former Lifers to change their att.i.tudes 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 newcomers 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 newcomers 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. Some of them possessed vital skills such as the ability to service biomechs 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 former Lifers to alter their views or convince them to embrace typical Larkinson values.

There were too many other former citizens of the LRA in their midst who each preferred to maintain as many views and habits of their home 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 some 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 clansmen 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 pa.s.s 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 ch.o.r.es 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 pa.s.s through a number of corridors and halls.

Even though the Larkinsons didn't actually own this ma.s.sive biomech production complex, their guards still manned the checkpoints.

The security procedures also become more c.u.mbersome. Nigel went from pa.s.sing through the checkpoints without interruption to being patted and scanned for any spy devices or sabotage equipment.

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 some inconsequential ident.i.ty 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 s.p.a.ce in the building.

The enormous hall had ceilings that stretched over a hundred meters into the air and covered an area that was large enough to host a full mech 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 biomech 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 biomech 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 biomech.

Yet as long as they weren't finished, they were of no use to the Larkinson Clan. They had to make way for damaged biomechs that urgently needed repairs and servicing. The feeder pools that used to grow new biomechs could also be employed to remedy existing mechs without employing too much effort.

This was one of the advantages of working with biomechs. The infrastructure required to grow them and repair them was c.u.mbersome, but once the feeder pools were in place, they could perform all kinds of useful work without requiring too much manpower.

"Nigel!" Someone called. "Did you make some progress on finding the right formula to feed some of our biomechs?"

"I have developed some ideas last night. I will try them out and see whether the stubborn biomechs will finally absorb the nutrients."

Not every biomech was created equal. Different biomech 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 some biomech models that required a special blend of nutrients.

Puzzling them out without access to the right doc.u.mentation was like a difficult puzzle. While the chance of stumbling on the right formula was low, someone familiar with feeder stock could still perform lots of tests to see which nutrients reacted well to a specific biomech 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 biomechs placed in these pools required urgent repairs, but they were immersed in the wrong formula of feeder stock!

The lack of correct substances and nutrients meant that their repair process proceeded a lot slower than it should.

The clan tasked a group of biomech designers to deduce the right formulas so that these stubborn biomechs 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 something 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 time to question his actions, Nigel pressed the b.u.t.ton 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 b.u.t.ton that confirmed his choice, only to halt at the last second.

His finger only had to press a little lower, but for some 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 become 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 biomech designers and a.s.sorted experts all felt there was something wrong. Normally, they respected Nigel's knowledge and experience, but right now they felt that their supervisor was a threat for some 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 time, Nigel gritted his teeth and tried to press the projected b.u.t.ton with greater and greater force.

Though the strange mental 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 b.u.t.ton!

A few seconds of silence pa.s.sed 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 biomechs, 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 fumes were already beginning to escape the open pools!

"What is going on? The biomechs 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!!"