With a non-agression pact established along the Meklar front, RBO-29 turned still more of his energy toward prosecuting the Klackon war. When reports came back from the 2395 invasion of Beta Ceti that Sakkra lives were lost against the defenders at a rate of ten to one, when the GNN newsdroid reported that the Sakkra toiled in last place in advanced technology thanks to their crippling war - while the Klackons, in spite of the same war, were number one - when Kikitik proposed a peace agreement, even offering an incentive to accept, RBO-29 raved, "Never! Never while Beta Ceti is in their hands! ... Or their pincers, or whatever those things are."
When Klackon ships couldn't spore Anraq, they took out factories with their spies - five went up in flames in the year 2397 - but the dragon was unmoved. He had sent more than two hundred new transports to Beta Ceti, each carrying a million combat-hardened Sakkra, dressed in their feeble battle suits with their faint deflector fields, carrying their meager hand lasers - prepared to fight; prepared to die. The first wave struck in 2399, outnumbering the defenders five to one, with a second wave on its way, not many years behind. Laser fire lanced out across the planet's night side; fusion blasts rocked the foundations of the hills. Exoskeletons collapsed and spun out of control, their joints split open behind their overloaded shields. Battle suits exploded, and melted into gleaming slag. Walls and hillsides crumbled. The earth rumbled and shook as deep-buried underground bunkers collapsed from within. As dawn touched the sky at last, and Beta Ceti rose in splendor over the horizon of its third world, smoke and fire rose from the ruins of the Klackon colony - smoke and dragon fire. The Sakkra at last controlled the planet and its star. Kikitik acknowledged the grim reality, and called RBO-29 once more, proposing peace at last, even offering concessions ... and the dragon answered, "No! I shall take Maalor from you ... although how, I don't quite know. I want your worlds; I want them all!" Greed burned green in his fiery eyes. When he looked upon the next leader to greet him, it burned there still.
Empress Miamar of the Mrrshan hegemony had come to power over her race through the ruthless wielding of sheer military might. She took control of the Nordia system, her seventh star, just within communications range of Beta Ceti, by the same means. She had no interest in trade agreements - only with war and victory. While RBO-9 was re-establishing a trade package with Narzina of the Darloks though, he did persuade Miamar to accept an industrial improvement in exchange for specialized dead-world environmental controls. His reasoning for the offer was that it would improve his workers' production slightly and make colony ships for certain worlds easier to build ... and, his greed shining bright and grim in his eyes, that the more and faster the Mrrshans built factories for him, the more would be ready and waiting when his invasions arrived at her worlds.
That done, and Rigel defended against yet another Klackon fleet, the leaders of the galaxy convened their third High Council meeting as the carrier transmission reached them from Orion once again. It was again indecisive, and so the dragon returned to his cavern palace, to revel in his possessions ... and plan to acquire more.
Proud as he was of his seven planets - none with bases yet, since missile bases at then-current Sakkra technological levels would be protected with shields made of wax paper and firing pea guns at best - his true joy was in his cold, hard cash: The hoard he had gathered over the millenia, adding to it every century since the beginning of his memory, so vast it could only be counted in billions of galactic credits, already totalling Ten million, one hundred and twenty six BC!
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Next: Communicating?
