Omega Thrax sat calmly in the office that had recently been occupied by the Chief Executive Officer of the Brindon Exporting Company, his hands clasped firmly in front of him as they sat on the desk. The men before him were the current company board of directors, all of whom now shifted a little uneasily as they regarded the strange masked man who was now apparently calling the shots in the company. They didn't like the looks of him at all, or the fact that he came from the Tagge Company, one of the galaxy's bigger conglomerates. That usually meant that they were all well on their way to being sacked, which they all feared was why he had called them here.

"Gentlemen, I understand you are all probably wondering as to why I've called you here. Most of you probably assume it is because with most corporate aquisitions, the old board of directors is gotten rid of sometimes. I assure you all that this is not the case with the Tagge Company takeover, I have merely been sent to get things in order and then we will permit the election of a new CEO to replace the late Dri Spoolib, who suffered a most grievous heart attack."

The board seemed to relax a little, realizing that all weren't going to be thrown out on the street. They all were still a little unsettled by this new man's nature and they still didn't know how long until a new CEO would be elected. This man was in control at the moment and there was obviously some sort of hidden agenda here, what it was no one was sure of but they would have to work on finding out.

"You are dismissed, Gentlemen."

The board members turned and departed, leaving Omega Thrax by himself as he began to look through files and paper work, his single visible eye scanning the materila rather calmly as the door slid open. Thrax did not look up at alll, merely continued reading as he spoke.

"You know what must be done, I must remain and keep the board at bay while operations are carried out," Thrax said.

"But of course," replied a voice completely identical to Thrax's. "I have already begun the warehouse conversions, all ther requires is a visit to the Cranscoc and Deraggo's abilities for causing mayhem."

"Excellent, I do not doubt you will prove successful," Thrax replied and looked up.

There before him was another Omega Thrax, identical to him in every manner and form. They both wore the same fine cut black suit, the same boots, same gloves, and most important of all, the same mask with the same, unnerving single visible eye. It would have been like staring into a mirror, but it wasn't, they were both really there, the fine products of Project Geryon and of the same mind about everything, always.

"But of course," the other Thrax said and bowed slightly, turning and departing from the room.

Omega Thrax turned back to his reports and paper work, completely unphazed by meeting his apparent twin, but it was to be expected. Did anyone truly believe a man could travel across the entire galaxy or even a planet that fast if a big operation was going down? They'd be fools if they did, however a man could exist in more than one place at the same time... if he was something beyond human, something created out of the horrors of Project Necros. What few people, even those in the Union knew, was that there were dozens of Omega Thrax, watching every part of the Union carefully, extending and enforcing the will of the Chairman.

Trepido City, Brindon Warehouse District, Cartao

The other Omega Thrax walked quietly along the warehouse, watching the men setting up equipment and supplies. It could not all be fully brought in yet though, not until Thrax had spoken with a representative from the Cranscoc. Thrax turned as he heard them approach, the Cranscoc and two necrotroopers as escorts. The Cranscoc's flesh beneath its clear shell shifted colors, showing uneasy feelings as they approached Thrax.

"Welcome, Chotaka, we have much to discuss," Omega Thrax said calmly, his single visible eye regarding the insectoid creature carefully.

"What is it you want to speak with my people about, Mister Thrax? I hope you're aware we aren't permitted by law to make anything even close to what we did during the Clone Wars. The Empire doesn't like the idea of anyone manufacturing cloning cylinders."

"You already assume I'm here on business about cloning?" Thrax asked curiously.

"All you amatuer business types are, thinking you can get one up on the competition. Well let me shatter your dreams right now, my people are forbidden from making such devices anymore, they are taboo. We would never dare make such implements of war again."

"Oh really, not even if, say, you're precious patch of protected land was destroyed? Perhaps by a rather vicious herbological retrovirus, or maybe just a good old fashioned bomb?"

The Cranscoc stopped, its flesh beneath its clear shell now exploding in a raindow, indicating Thrax had struck a nerve. It looked at him rather coldly now and said in its buzzing basic.

"You wouldn't dare..."

"Oh, but I would," Thrax reached out and pulled the creature rather close as he now spoke in a lower tone so practically no one could hear him.

"Perhaps you don't understand this, Chotaka, but I will do whatever it takes to get what I need out of you. My suggestion is to do as I ask or suffer the consequences that will have your name spat upon for years."

Thrax let go, letting the Cranscoc skitter backwards in shock as it looked into the single, cold eye of Omega Thrax. It moved to speak but then stopped itself, considering the situation.

"But the Empire will find out. How are you going to hide the fact we're building cloning vats, even here?"

"Quite simple, you're going to enter into a deal with the Tagge Company who've just recently created a new subsidiary, Tagge Medical Technologies. You will produce Bacta tanks to disguise your true purpose and to completely avert the Empire's gaze, we're going to give them the first batch of Bacta tanks for free as part of a corporate campaign for continued good relations between the Tagge Company and the Galactic Empire."

"Bacta tubes? Hmmm, perhaps we can profit from this?"

"But of course, Edipus Tagge is willing to let the Cranscoc run the new company, provided you also deliver on what we really want."

"How many clone vats would you want?"

"100,000 for now, after that we may need more, but it will suit our purposes. Am I to assume that we have a deal?"

Chotaka pondered the offer for several moments, his flesh swirling with colors in a rather thoughtful way, but Thrax knew the answer. He could sense the greed and fear pouring off of the insectoid like it was a fine wine. The Cranscoc would agree and not only provide the Union with its needed cloning cylinders but easily hide the fact through an large sycophantic act of charity to the Empire that would disguise where all the resources were actually being spent. 100,000 cloning cylinders and 100,000 Bacta tanks, one that would pour into the Union long term plans set down by the Chairman and the other a large payoff that the Empire would simply take as the Tagge Company doing its usual best to keep the Empire a happy and satisfied customer.

"Yes, we'll make your cylinders, am I to assume the Empire will want more Bacta tanks after the first 100,000?"

"But of course, everyone knows how effective Cranscoc fluid technology is; mix that with Bacta and the Empires expansionistic methods and you've got a customer for life, though I suggest selling them at some military discount, just to appease them more. The happier the Empire is, the less they will get involved."

Of course, by the time we deliver the first tanks, that cylinders will already be on their way to the Forge and Dr. Mengax. Even if the Empire did come to look around, they would find nothing except a bunch of Cranscoc happily making more tanks for them.

"For now, go and spread the word, I want construction on both projects to begin as soon as possible."

"But what about funding?"

"Mister Tagge, is already taking care of it, he'll invest enough money to create new facilities for you to work at while your workers are also here at this converted warehouse, producing those precious cloning cylinders."

"Very well, I'll go and inform my people of the deal we've struck, I expect to see the corporate papers soon."

Chotaka turned and left, muttering under his breath in his buzzing language as Thrax's single eye watched him depart. Once the Cranscoc was gone, Thrax pulled out a datapad and begin making the necessary requistions as well as orders for the beginnings of the new manufacturing facility as well as the supplies needed for the hidden warehouse factory. Once the batch was complete, he'd need not re turn here but he knew Tagge would love making even more money off of his restrengthened ties to the Empire with this bacta tanks scheme. Everything was going along as planned for now.

Tagge Tower
Tepasi

"How dare you go behind my back, you masked bastard! This is my company!"

Edipus Tagge's body heaved with outrage as he looked at the masked visage of Omega Thrax. All of Tagge's usual fear for the vile Union agent was completely gone, replaced with murderous rage that Thrax had made a deal without his consent. What was worse was that it was medical technology.

"I mean if it was a weapons deal or something, I would understand, its what the Tagge Company does, we're a weapons and vehicular supplier to half the damn galaxy! But bacta tanks!?! Are you really out of that thing you call a mind?"

"Mister Tagge, you should be happy for this business venture, afterall it will only strengthen your severely powerful ties with the Imperial government, what with TaggeCo already producing and supplying a number of weapons for their arsenal of conquest."

"But what about Belgardi? Couldn't they do this?"

"Belgardi is watched by the Empire like a hawkbat. The only grace Rico has right now is his new deals made to preserve the company within Imperial space. Our fortunes now are the fact that there are three very large governments out their who don't trust one another at all. Tagge is a servant of the Empire, it always has been, you all bow and sell eagerly to the Empire, growing fat and rich off of their war machine. Its time you branched out."

Thrax turned away from the annoying business man and pressed a button on the display unit they stood next to. A holographic image of what looked like a bacta tank appeared. Edipus stepped forward, regarding it with very deep scrutiny before looking back at Omega Thrax.

"You said these are of Cranscoc manufacture?"

"Indeed, though the first 100,000 will be lost to pirates, if you understand my meaning, Mister Tagge."

"What? Why?"

"Project Necros, those first 100,000 will be cloning cylinders, but since it will take the same supplies to make the bacta tanks, the Empire won't notice as long as they still get the first 100,000 free, which is what the next batch is going to be."

"But what of the crews aboard the transports?"

"Oh, they'll be taken care of," Thrax replied off-handedly as he brought up other reports.

"What's this?"

"You're aniticipated profits, even with giving the Empire a military discount. They'll snatch up these new bacta tanks like crazy, buying every last one you manufacture because they'll be cheap, efficient, and high quality. Not to mention the fact they'll bear the Tagge insignia on them, a sure win with the Empire. The Empire never passes up such hardware, especially if it helps them keep their bloated government together and their soldiers alive."

Tagge read over the figures, realizing there was quite a profit to be made here, he then spotted something, most of the profit wouldn't be going to him but rather to the Cranscoc ran subsidiary making them. He turned now and glared coldly at Omega Thrax.

"I see the profit will mainly be going to those bugs."

"Correct, it was a necessary bargaining chip to ensure their complete obediance. Your cut will still be quite substantial though, Mister Tagee."

"Very well, its not like I have a choice in the matter," Tagge said bitterly.

"No, you don't."

With that said, Omega Thrax turned and departed as he had many things to arrange and all the time in the galaxy to arrange them.

Omega Thrax walked calmly along the catwalk above the factory floor of the new bacta tank facility, watching quietly as cranscoc workers skittered about, manipulating their liquid technologies to create what the Union needed for its dark and hidden agendas. If Thrax could have felt pleased, he would have but for now he had other business to deal with which involved the large, thuggish looking man walking next to him and looking down at the floor as well. His name was Pyter Flint and he was a pirate of the highest measure who sported a large, ragtag fleet the Union happily supplied and maintained in exchange for the occasional favor and a small kickback from any venture of Flint's. Flint also happened to be ex-Jutraalian Navy, one of Estro Sabrino's old subordinates.

"So, these here tubes, you want them? Why not just say you misplaced them?" Flint asked as he looked over them.

"Because, Captain Flint, we are dealing with the Empire here, not idiots. The most plausible way to lose such a massive shipment is piracy. High calibir piracy, the kind you're rather good at doing when you attack those large luxury cruisers."

"Ah, so I'm assuming you don't want any survivors?"

"None, kill the ship crews and strip the ships, leave only dead ships behind. I want this job to look like just any other pirate attack by the notorious Pyter Flint," Omega Thrax said, looking over at the pirate.

"Ah, like the Grand Princess job?"

"Yes, just like that one, the Chairman wants those tubes plugged into their new facilites at the Forge as soon as possible."

"What do you guys want with cloning tubes, anyways?"

"Necros."

"Ah, so old Estro's gone and decided to humor that crackpot, Mengax."

"Please refrain from using the Chairman's name, Captain Flint, you two may have served together, but we would prefer his identity to remain a secret for now. The governments may not be able to reach him, but its even better if they do not know who is really pulling the strings if they should ever discover the Union is more than just a rumor their intelligence contacts keep hearing about."

"That's true, but you know it won't last forever, right?"

"The Chairman has no delusions, Captain Flint. That is why Necros must be completed. Why these cylinders will go to the Forge. We are preparing."

"Preparing? For what?"

"For when the Union decides to reveal itself."

"And why are you sharing such obviously vital information to me?"

"Because the Chairman has you marked for high clearance. He trusts you more the most of the Committee since you were a former officer under his command. That is why we are giving this job to you."

"I see, fine, I'll be waiting at the interception point."

"Good, and remember, no survivors and no damaging the items."

"But of course," Flint says with a grin and turns to leave.

Omega Thrax watches him leave and the looks back at the busy Cranscoc, everything was going according to plan and schedule.

Jak Inrik sat quietly on a crate as he watched the binary load lifters move about with their clunky limbs, carefully loading bacta tanks onto the transports. He'd been with the Brindon Exporting Company for ages but he'd never seen such a large shipment in his life. He had to admit the Tagge Company was outdoing itself when it came to being a loyal sycophant corpoartion of the Empire. So many free bacta tanks and what's more, made by the Cranscoc. Jak's grandfather had worked for the old Spaarti company before the Republic and Seperatists showed up and completely trashed the company. Those bugs sure did know how to make high quality stuff, just giving it to the Empire would probably earn the Tagges just more prestiege with the Imperial government, not like they weren't up to their necks in it already. The Tagge Company manufactured almost solely for Imperial interests at times, their weapons, their vehicles, their equipment, and now their bacta tanks, all going into the largest galactic government out there. It was no wonder the Tagge's didn't own many worlds like other big corporations did. There was no need too when the Empire let you operate in their space for a small tax.

"Hey Jak! Get your head of the the clouds! Lifter 3 is messing up again!"

Jak got to his feet quickly, running over to Lifter 3 who was currently walking into the wall. Jak screamed at it and carefully kicked it, knowing not to do it too hard as last time he made that mistake he had to be in a bacta cast for weeks to mend the bone.The Load lifter got the message easy enough though, even if it only spoke binary, it was doing something wrong and needed to adjust that so it promptly rebooted its instructions. The droid slumped for a moment before standing back up and going to loading again, letting Jak go back to his crate and daydream a little more while the final bits of the shipment were loaded up.

2 hours later

Jak walked up onto small bridge of the large bulk freighter that he'd been a crew member of for a couple years now. The pay wasn't too bad and the Brindon people paid well, but good grief what a boring life it was. All he really had to do was manage the load liftered during loading and unloading, after that it fell to Captain Gibbin. The Captain was a harsh old spacer, even for a Duros, who spent almost their whole lives in space. But Jak liked working for him, especially after long hauls because the captain would treat all of his crews to drinks and food at the local cantina. It was a good life, simple, but good.

"Captain, all four freighters are away now, fully laiden and awaiting orders."

"What's our ETA with our Imperial escort?"

"About ten hours sir, we're meeting them at their trade station."

"Alright then, lets get these bacta tanks on their way and get our big fat payment from the Empire," Gibbin's said with a chuckle.

The four large bulk transports calmly position themselves and leaped into hyperspace, their crews never knowing they would never see their end destination.

5 Hyperspace Hours Away
Interception Point

Pyter Flint stood calmly on the bridge of his flag ship, Jutraalian Phantom, waiting quietly as the clock on the ship ticked down. He then nodded to his officer of the watch who picked up his comlink and issued an order. The Jutraalian Phantom's Interdiction field activated smoothly, its generators having been heavily modified for quick activiation and shut down by Union technicians. This left the Phantom little firepower for itself, but it never traveled alone. The Interdictor Crusier usually was escorted by a pair of Nebulon-B frigates, Blood Phantom and Bone Collector, both sporting Pyter's distinct emblem of a blood red skull and cross bones, though sporting eight bones arrayed in a circle around the tskull instead.

"What's the take on this Captain? Something big?" asked Pyter's 1st Mate, Brakka, a tall, muscled female Transdoshan with green scales and blood red eyes.

"Something very big, Brakka, big enough our benefactors want it all undamaged, so remember, no targeting the cargo holds. We want everything in there intact or it'll be our hides."

"Aye, sir." Brakka turned and snarled into her comlink. "Listen up you wretches, just a reminder that if any of you do something to damage the cargo on our incoming targets, I'll have your damn hides for dinner!"

"Have I ever told you how much I love your sweet disposition, Brakka?" Pyter asked her with a grin.

"Aye, many times, Captain." Brakka gave Pyter a toothy grin.

Pyter laughed and then turned his attention to his tactical screen, making sure that everything was in place. His Y-wing groups were currently sitting in a wide perimeter around the interdiction field, waiting to close in on where the transports popped out at. He noted the trio of dreadnaughts sitting back would have been useful if had hadn't emptied the damn things out to use as loot vessels. They would move in and dock, unloading a large number of pirate raiders onto their intended targets who would secure the ships and then start transferring cargo.

"Sir, we've got hyperspace exits, four, just as predicted."

"Well, what are you louts waiting for? Attack!."

Brindon One
Captain Gibbin's Bridge

"What the hell's going on? Why did we revert from hyperspace?"

"Interdiction field, sir!"

"I've got multiple contacts, Captain!"

"Damnit!" Captain Gibbin slammed his fist into his chair.

"Good god, their coming in from all directions, its like they were waiting for us!."

"What emblem are they sporting?"

"Blood red skull in a circle of bones, Captain."

"Sith spawn! Pyter Flint! Evasive manuevers, try to get us out of this damn field, quick!"

Jak looked startled at just how shaken the captain was at hearing that name and looked up from his station.

"Sir, they've already got us, why try to escape, it'll only anger them."

"Because its frakking Pyter Flint, that why's, The Butcher of Ison. I'd heard he'd moved his operations but not this close to Imperial space so get off your ass, quit asking me questions and tell the crew to prepare to repel boarders, this is bad."

"Sir, I can't get in contact with our Imperial escort, the Pirates have already put up jamming."

"Y-wings closing in!"

"I have mutlitple warhead launches!"

The first volley of concussion missiles streaked forward, hammering into the engines and comm systems of the ship, their civilian level shielding and hulls no match for military grade weaponry. Another volley then flew in from the other side as the two Nebulons and three dreadnaughts moved in, the Y-wings hammering the transports with ion cannons. As the ships went dead, the dreadnaughts moved in, each docking with one of the other four transports other than Brindon One, leaving it for last.

Captain Gibbin sat on the bridge helplessly, listening to reports of barricades being built at the docking hatches and then felt a cold shiver run down his spine as the pirates dropped their jamming since all long range equipement was gone. He noticed a small blip also indicate the interdiction field was gone too, these pirates were clever, they had the prey they wanted so now they closed their trap so that they wouldn't pick up anyone else. What was worse is now Gibbin could hear the comsignals from his other ships as the pirates boarded them, the loud sounds of blaster fire and death. Brindon Four went silent first, shortly followed by Two and Three. The wait that followed was long and painful as Gibbin knew the pirates were emptying his cargoships at this very moment, having killed all the crews. They'd likely strip the ships for useful components after all four had been dealt with as well, leaving dead husks full of corpses behind.

Three Hours Later

The dreadnaughts undocked from their victims and the bridge crew watched them with dread, knowing that those large vessels, laiden with their goods would now dock with the final ship. Unable to take anymore, Gibbin snatched the blaster pistol from the holster on the back of his seat and ran to the turbolift, going down to the forward barricades. Jak was already there, having helped set up everything and turned a few load lifters into what looked like walking shields.

"All right everyone, be ready, these bastards intend on killing every one of us, so you better kill every one of them." Gibbin's clicked his blaster's safety off and waited.

There was a loud clang as the dreadnaught's boarding tube magnetically latched on and then silence for several minutes. The crew then watched in terror as the pirates began cutting through the door, sparks flying before the explosive charge the put on it went off, sending the doors flying across the corridor and destroying the makeshift shield load lifters. There was a blood thirsty cry and the pirates started to swarm aboard, firing their weapons. The crew and pirates began trading shots before another loud clang was head and Jak looked over at Captain Gibbin.

"What was that sir?"

"Another frakking dreadnaught docking. These bastards mean business." Gibbin said, grabbing Jak's collar and pulling him back just before a blaster bolt could leave a burning hole in his head.

Jak looked at the blaster hole where his head had been and felt ill, he was going to die, he knew it now. The pirates were starting to push forward, the crew falling back and now there was another entry point, pirates were pushing forward on both sides of the vessel, Jak could hear that from the captain's comlink. Crew casualties were rising and the pirates were advancing much more quickly throughout the ship.

"What are we gonna do captain?" Jak asked, looking pleadingly at the Duros, hoping for an answer.

"We go down fighting Jak, now come on."

Gibbin pulled Jak into the turbolift, leaving the rest of the crew behind to fend off the pirates as they ran back to the bridge, passing barricages the bridge crew had set up as well. Jak watched as the captain start activating some low tech image recording equipment.

"This is Captain Gibbin of the Brindon One, and if you're seeing this, it means I'm already dead, as well as the rest of my crew. I'm making this recording to identify the pirates in the hopes someone will get these bastards someday. They're Pyter Flint's men and they're fighting their way through my ship now." Blaster fire and shouting start to be heard down the hallway. "I don't have much time, but that's all I can say anyways. I don't know what the hell they're gonna do with this shipment of bacta tanks for the Empire, but they've got it now."

Gibbin stopped the recording and then ejected the data cassette the message was on, walking over to a wall and sliding a panel open, hiding the cassette inside before sealing the compartment back up. Moments later the blaster fire stop and boots could be heard. Gibbin turned just in time to watch Jak get mowed down by blaster fire and Gibben himself sank to his knees in defeat. Why would anyone be so vile and bloodthirsty as this? Why poor Jak? Why his crew? The last thing Gibbin heard as he stared at the floor was someone walk up to him, press a blaster barrel to his head and pull the trigger...

Three More Hours Later

Pyter Flint watched as his ships undocked from the dead transports, the stripping finished and the cargo safely stowed away.

"Everything all packed up, Brakka?"

"Aye, sir. All ships report ready to hyperspace."

"Good, are they all ready to peform the scramble jump pattern?"

"Aye, everything is as you asked."

"Good, lets get the frak out of here then and leave the Empire to pick up the pieces."

Brakka chuckled and issued the orders, sending the pirate fleet into hyperspace away from the broken transports and on a mishmash of jump points no one could follow before making a long jump into the deep core. As the ships reverted to realspace several days later, they came upon a world buzzing with activity, shipyards sitting in orbit, large complexes visible on the dark surface. It was the Forge, the Union's secret base of operations.

"Well, Brakka, lets give the Chairman his shipment."

Brakka nodded and the pirate fleet began docking procedures with one of the Redoubt stations parked in orbit.

Far in the deep core, a dark, dead looking planet sits, hidden away from preying eyes by warnings of a black whole directly where it should be. Its surface now lit and crawling with activity, its skies filled with spacestations and shipyards. This world is the very heart of the Union, referred to simply as the Forge for the sake of security as well as explanation for its purpose. It is the source of the Union's hidden material resources, a factory and resource world away from the prying eyes of government spies and corporate espionage. Now the world was about to fulfill one of the purposes of its settling.

Deep down below the surface in one of the huge chambers of the immense complex known as the Morgue, the Union's Chairman, Estro Sabrino walks along the chamber's floor, watching technicians putting the finishing touches on the installed cloning tubes. Walking by his side is a tall, green skinned falleen doctor dressed in a white overcoat, his long single braid wrapped loosely around his neck. These two men were the visionaries of Project Necros, Sabrino for his demands for a military force and manpower that was incapable of fear and quite expendable, and Doctor Mengax for developing the entire project through his vast knowledge of cybernetics and biology.

"So, when will the factory floor of Morgue be operational, Mengax?" Sabrino asked calmly, watching one of the strangly made tubes being set up.

"Very soon, sir, everything has gone accordingly. I even made sure to check the tubes for any sabotage that Cranscoc might have done to them."

"Was there any?"

"No, I assume, Thrax was able to intimidate them enough that they wouldn't try to pull any funny business."

"I see, so how fast will be able to churn out units?"

"Well, normally, most military cloners wouldn't dare produce a clone any faster than say, a few weeks, sir. Afterall, being grown too fast without yslamari around will induce clone madness. However, we don't really have to worry about clone madness."

"Oh? Why is that, Doctor?"

"Because, the implants so completely obliterate the concious mind of any convert they don't really have a mind to go mad with. They're just a shell, no personality, no emotions, no feelings, just obediance. We'll be able to generate effective clones every few days with the correct setup."

"Excellent, I take it everything else is in place? Protein syntehsizers, cryogenics?"

"Oh yes, we'll be able to stock an overwhelming number of them here until you find somewhere to ship them off to."

"Ah, and have you started looking into miniturizing the support machinery?"

"For what?"

"Oh, for something about the length of an Imperator-class Star Destroyer?"

"What? You want the systems placeable on warships?"

"Not just any warships, Doctor, ones that will be designed and manufactured right here at first, perhaps elsewhere later on. But an initial fleet will be built here once our operatives abduct the necessary engineers and scientists to design the vessels for us."

"Another part of your grand plan, Chairman?"

"You could say that, I'm tired of having the Union lurk and waste resources on outdated models while the governments have new vessels and large numbers of them. We're going to start catching up, however, that means a fleet that isn't going to cost us money to maintain, just resources."

"The only time something like that happened was with the Seperatists, those huge droid armies. They still had to pay for their battleships."

"That's because they didn't have necrotroopers to build and operate the machinery. They can easily survive off of the synthetic proteins and just as easily stored in the cryogenics," Sabrino said with a vicious smile.

"Just what are you planning, sir? The thing you're describing sounds like its evolving into something very large."

"It isn't your concern, just do as I ask and I'll continue to let you play mad scientist, Mengax. Everything is slowing moving into place. We now have the active cloning facilites and the small influx of slaves will provide us with plenty of raw material to use for cloning. However, I notice some of the necrotroopers seem more apt at certain jobs."

"Oh yes, that's the conditioning, they're like droids, you just have to give them the proper programing, plus these are Mark Three units, the best model, completely automous."

"Mark Three? I assume there are a One and Two variation?"

"Oh yes, you see One units everywhere, they're the soldiers, and do the grunt work. Mark Two units are more better off, they pilot the fighters we have for now. Threes are on par with humanoids for intelligence. The entire drydock system in orbit is managed by Mark Three units right now. The problem is, they take longer than the other two to make, a whole week for just one batch," Mengax replied, calmly looking over a cloning tube behing adjusted.

"Well, it looks like Project Necros is coming to full circle, excellent work, Doctor."

"I'm glad it pleases you, sir."

The pair walked on, discussing further plans for the Union as Project Necros now came to full fruition, the factory floor of the Morgue slowly becoming operational, cloning tubes bubbling and churning, conversion chambers quietly waiting to insert the implants into the new necrotroopers.