III. 


Kuat Drive Shipyards: a huge, sheet metal grey platform, thousands of kilometers across and almost as many wide. A man made moon of sorts, an island in space, carefully locked into it's planet's orbit. A planet with no moon, for the extra gravitic force would never allow such a marvel. Here, some of the greatest weapons of the republic  were built. Upon this massive, shelf of reinforced durasteel, so large that it curves ever so slightly to better hug the planet, Dreadnoughts are being built. These are the real killers of space. The Mon Calamari republic-class cruisers may be three times their size, but not only are these black and grey behemoths three times as maneuverable as a Mon Cal, they carry 75% of the total destructive payload. Ten Dual Beam Ion Cannons, more anti-fighter turrets than one should spend the time to count, and four front-bearing recycling barrel Turbolasers capable of  eight minutes of continuous fire at a constant of twenty beams per minute.
The republic is currently building one hundred of these.

Simultainiously.

Having absolutely no interest in a repeat of humilation suffered over two centuries ago at the hands of Mandalorian warlords, these dreadnoughts were designed to win the war with sheer offense. Almost no power was afforded to shields. These were meant to drive straight at the mandalorian's sorry excuses for capital ships and rake them to pieces.

Aron was not here about the dreadnaughts. He was here about a prototype much, much worse.
A weapon so terrifying, that he was going to Kuat to negotiate any sort of Political contract possible to limit the use of it.
Aron Slifer may have inherited General Martellus Slifer's talent for war, as well as cold, efficient killing. Unlike Cadence, Aron had pulled the trigger on a space weapon and blown real, live sentient beings into particle dust. But this weapon, it should never exist. Even Aron, a hardline Jedi if there ever was one, would never, ever, advocate the use of the Gauss Cannon.
This gun was mortifyingly huge. There were Lancer-class frigates that were not as big as this gun. The gun itself was a kind of ship, a remotely piloted platform of trellised and reinforced durasteel and duracrete. This gun was nothing so sleek and beautiful as a Dreadnaught. This thing looked like an infant tried to form the lower case basic letter D with three kilometers of alloyed durasteel, then decided to cover thing with shield panels and heat resistant carbon plated tubes as wide as a building, all over it, then glued it to a minature version of the ugly die-cast sheet metal platform that was the Kuat drive yards. 

This weapon was designed for only a single use. This weapon was a failsafe. This weapon was a world killer. Theoretically, the Gauss Cannon was a solar system killer. In case of emergency, break star. 

The platform was nothing but a lightly shielded gun platform. There was no need to defend it, it could be fired from over 1,000 million kilometers from it's target. Simply, a ship within a micro hyperjump of the Cannon would send a very, very precise set of parameters, calculations of solar radiation inteference, and magnetic fields to the gun. Then activate it. 
This was not a turret. Or a laser. It was massive scale open loop particle accelerator, designed to launch a magnetically charged projectile, approximently the size of a twenty story building, made out of a salvaged chunk of a collapsed star. The payload contained the mass of over one thousand mountains with a height of eight kilometers. The payload would then be accelerated to a velocity at somewhat under half of lightspeed, or five-hundred-million kilometers per hour, and released at the target. The platform would be vaporized into atom fragments, anything within a radius of 25 million kilometers would be shredded with a mist of atomic particles traveling away from where the Gauss Cannon activated, and the super-dense projectile would continue through virtually anything in it's path until the end of the universe. Planets would die like baloons hit by a blaster bolt. Stars would turn into multi-million kilometer fireworks displays. This weapon simply was too powerful to allow to exist. Religious people would surely be offended by it's godlike power. The very scientists building it feared to even think about it's completion.   

The Gauss Cannon was not under construction here at Kuat. But someone else attached to the Guass Cannon's development, codenamed Project SoulDestroy, was here.

General Martellus Slifer.

Aron stood in military fatigues, dark blue, Major's colors. He had enough real medals that meant real service to lend creedence to the various diplomatic patches and pins and buttons that covered up most of his chest space. A tricornered cap sat on a right sided tilt on his hair, which was mostly stuffed under the cap itself to create the illusion the young man had a semi-professional haircut. His blue eyes sat like uncut sapphires in his head, motionless, staring straight ahead at the elevator doors, inches in front of his face. Beside him was Jedi Master Novey-Uy. The master was only here to support and advise Aron on this mission. There was no way a pro-human war hero like General Slifer was going to parley with the sort of alien Novey-Uy was. 

At first, the sound of chimes, so high pitched it hovered on the edge of Aron's hearing range emenated from the being immediately to his right, then the bell tone dropped mercifully into morning cartoon holovid levels. Still took a lot of getting used to.
The chime adjusted itself for a painful total of about six seconds, then the noise produced startling clear basic words.
"My student, this mission is not so designed to demand cessation of the Project......... Or to reason ethically with the General.... Understand?"

Aron nodded once. The General. Correct. Not his father. The GENERAL.
 
The chime petered back into windshriek territory, then swooped down again.
"There are no sound ethics to asking you to do this. The fact that you are a commendable, decorated officer, as well as the General's......."
Aron winced hard at such a timely pause. Though he did not begrudge his master. It likely wasn't on purpose.
"General's direct biological offspring, that he would hear reason...... In your voiiiiiiice...... That he would hear from no one.........." ringing like an alarm clock from the abyss....
"Elssssse."

Aron turrned and looked at the hooded cloak beside him that covered Master  Novey-Uy's entire body. The head, or hood of the cloak rose more than a foot above Aron's six-foot-even frame.
"I agreed to this mission only because I also see the logic in that presumption. No other reason at all." Aron turned back again. His body was ramrod stiff, hands clasped behind his back. Every crease of his uniform was geometricly perfect, the starch gave the coat and pants an almost solid appearance, but still kept the soft feel of the quality fabric.

"......." whiiiiine... "You know how this could affect--""
"Please! Please, Master," Aron turned, and there was genuine sadness and shame in his eyes, making them pools of innocent youth again, apart their ancient gemstone cut. 
"Do not presume I'm capable of such ignorance. And don't patronize me either. The Duke is not my father. He is as you called him, a biological progenitor. Nothing else. Any ploy I try will be a virtueless, inexcusable lie, and I accept that for the greater good. I thank you for coming, but that's all I want to hear from you now. That's. It."
Not another sound from the lanky apparition to his right. Only a small rustle as Nevoy's hood brushed the elevator ceiling. Martellus Slifer's personal turbolift. The Grand General's turbolift was better. "The Duke's" turbolift was best. When the man was reduced to a myth, that was absolutely best in Aron's mind.
After an additional, tortuous half minute of ascension, the lift stopped and the door hissed open, revealing a sterile metal hallway polished to mirror shine. Aron stepped out and began a brisk walk down this fateful tunnel. Less than ten paces later, the chiming voice of his master began again, and Aron stopped. With timing that only a decade of companionship could produce, Aron turned about face six seconds later.
"Aron... my student," the jingling bell vibrated into basic. The cloak in the elevator broadened and shortened, became more alike to five feet tall and four feet wide. Two appendages, rubber gray and tipped with two fingers like pincers grasped the hood of the cloak. As the hood fell back, it retained it's shape of a humanoid head, leaving only the collor of the mantel. From this collor arose two stalks, long, prehensile appendages much like the queer, skinny arms that removed the hood. The stalks bent ninety degrees, and the ends irised open, revealing gleaming, glasslike amber eyes.
"He mayy not.... Beeee your father....... But know that I take great priiiiiide......... In you...." somewhat, controlled, repressed whining. The stalks blinked very slowly, spiralling closed, then open again.
"Aneeeeee.... Sentient would take great priiiiiiiide....." a sharp whistle, perhaps a wheeze, "In a sonnnn.... Liiike youuuu."
Aron summoned the very force to hold his tears at bay. A third appendage triggered the door button of the turbolift, and Aron did not look away until the stalks had returned back into the cloak, and the door hissed shut.