Just InCommunityForumMoreThe Shattering by wulfenheim Warhammer & Invincible Xover Rated: M, English, Words: 152k+, Favs: 724, Follows: 822, Published: Dec 14, 2023 Updated: Apr 20 223Chapter 24
"The world was in dark space, father," Argall said, frowning as he explained, hoping his father might understand the irrationality of what he planned on doing. "Thousands and thousands of light years away from this planet. You'll be looking for a needle in a planet's worth of hay. It's impossible. Father, please reconsider."
His father shook his head. Thragg hovered off the ground, his face grim and eyes dark. Argall understood, most of all, the urge for vengeance. He loved his mother, even when she was mostly out on adventures. And she loved him, even when her idea of love was a little weird. And so, he understood. Like his father, Argall wanted to avenge the death of his mother, wanted to make the Rangdan pay for what they did. But, unlike his father, Argall, unfortunately, did not possess the ability to traverse deep space without equipment or fly faster than the speed of light – two physical impossibilities that his father apparently did not care for in the slightest.
And the other problem was that the reverse-tracker, which he'd created to try and isolate the signals within the Rangdan Monolith, wasn't a hundred percent accurate. 97.89% seemed like good odds, until one factored in the sheer breadth of the cosmos. The remaining 2% could mean a dark and cold void, which was even more terrifying when he considered the fact that the signal was traced all the way to the edge of the galaxy, beyond its borders, even, a place of darkness and dead stars.
And his father wanted to just fly there. Ridiculous. Unthinkable. Illogical. There had to be a better way and they'd probably find one if his father could just wait. However, the window to actually do anything was small and shrinking. The signals on the Rangdan Monolith were fading even as they spoke. In a few days, it'd be gone entirely. Try as he might, Argall did not have the time to build another machine in a few days, not when he now had responsibilities to his people.
"My son," His father said. "Do not worry for me. The map you gave me is enough. I will find the Rangdan Prime. I will kill it. Turn your worries to your people. And try to get along with your sister; she leads her own band of survivors."
"I know," Argall sighed. Her band of survivors lived off of Wilderbeast herds that roamed close to their ruined city. He hadn't approached her just yet, because he honestly wasn't sure how. Growing up, he'd never been close to Sereen. She didn't mistreat him, but they barely interacted, either. She reminded him quite a bit of their mother, who preferred to go out on her own adventures and sought out excitement and wonder for herself, instead of staying in one place. Oh, they got along well enough whenever they were in the same room, but Argall wished they were closer; he wished they treated each other like real siblings, instead of the silent treatment they gave each other. But, it was good to know that she was alive, because it meant they still could try.
Having an actual sister would be nice.
Argall nodded, closed his eyes, and breathed in. "Do as you will, father."
"Like I said, my son," Thragg smiled. "Do not worry about me. I'll be gone for a few months, perhaps, maybe a year. But I will return. And I shall return triumphant, bearing the head of a being that fancies itself a god."
And, with that, Thragg surged upwards and disappeared beyond the clouds, accelerating until he flew faster than light itself. Argall looked up, at the trail of super heated gas and dust left behind in his father's wake. He was gone. Just like that. Argall had no idea how long it would take for his father to defeat the supposed god of the Rangdan and Argall did not have the luxury of being able to wait. If nothing else, his father should distract the aliens long enough for his civilization to grow and thrive, for new generations to be born.
Argall turned and walked away. He had... too many things he needed to do, a thousand tasks that needed to be delegated. And, most of all, he was gonna have to face his sister at some point – consolidate her tribe into his growing... Argall wasn't even sure what to call his group. They were his people, but this wasn't a monarchy and neither was it a dictatorship. If nothing else, Argall was a tribal leader, kind of elected into his position because of his power and his leadership. In time, perhaps, when his people were ready, when everything was prepared for them, when they've transcended the paltry human shell that surrounded them now, perhaps then, Argall would step back and fade into the shadow, like his father.
Alka was no longer a ruin. Well, it still was, but his people were hard-at-work, rebuilding it from the ashes that'd been left behind. Only a few of the old structures still remained. Everything else was destroyed when the Rangdan came for them. And so, much of the work was in clearing out the rubble, men and women, working alongside Scrapper Bots, the few he could spare, to clean up their former home. Of course, the other survivors from the ruins of the sister cities were here as well. A lot of the basic infrastructure that he was actually building was done outside of the ruins; there were plenty of flat plains here, after all, and the soil was the perfect mixture of dry and malleable.
He'd always wondered, actually, since he gained full sapience, why the cities preferred to stay small, instead of expanding outwards, rapidly. There were plenty of natural resources across the entire planet. The mountains were rich in metals and minerals, and clean fresh water flowed in oceans beneath the ground. They certainly had the technology and the understanding with which to operate it. But, for some odd reason, they just didn't. Hence, the strange mixture of advanced and primitive technology.
"Sir Argall," One of his assistants, a Scrapper who'd been by his side since the Rangdan attack, approached. "The Scrapper Bots have finished their salvaging operations of the northern Scrapyard. The Builder Bots have begun construction of the first shelters and the hydroponic farms. By our most generous estimates, they'll be done before the day ends."
Argall nodded and smiled, patting the man on the shoulder.
His Scrapper Bots, by their very name, collected junk material to be processed into more usable materials. Argall's original design had been a machine that processed raw mass into material, but it turned out to be far more advanced that what he was actually capable of building. Oh, he had the blueprints in his head, but the creation of each part and mechanism and then assembling it would take a lifetime. For now, his Scrapper and Builder Bots were much simpler. Scrapper Bots gathered anything that might be useful and the Builder Bots made them useful.
"Thank you for telling me," Argall smiled. The housing infrastructure would go a long way for his people, considering how just about everyone lost their homes in the Rangdan attack; of course, it came with heating and cooling, water pipes and drainage, essentials for every home. The hydroponic farm would go a long way in the creation and normalization of an actual balanced diet for his people. The very idea of consuming vegetables and starches was a foreign concept here; meat was the staple and people supplemented the lack of vitamins and minerals with pills. Unacceptable. A healthy population was a strong population and Argall wasn't about to accept malnutrition.
Also, they really needed to start domesticating the Wilderbeast herds as quickly as possible; having to hunt every single time they needed meat was, indeed, fun, but it wasn't efficient. And with the population's rather sharp decline just a few days ago, all hands were needed to rebuild. Plus, hunting was a job that very few people actually knew how to do.
Hmm... a hundred forms and designs for a Hunter-Killer Bot appeared in his mind – some bigger or faster than others, and some were simply deadlier than others. A few were interesting, but Argall picked the least-complicated one, meant for capturing. For now, their meat stores were more than enough to feed the population for several months. What he needed to do was capture a pregnant female Wilderbeast and domesticate its young.
Once food and shelter were no longer a problem, then maybe they could finally turn their attention to industry.
But all of that would come later. For now, Argall needed to create more Scrapper and Builder bots to hasten the rate of rebuilding. And so, he did just that.
For the next few days, Argall built one more Builder Bot and two Scrapper Bots. Water pipes were reestablished and reconnected and a water tank was built at the center of the ruined Alka; ten more homes were fabricated and a single hydroponic farm was finished. The farm itself couldn't produce much just yet, however, as Argall would need samples of every single local vegetable and root crop; there were, however, plenty of yams that grew near the mountains that could be cultivated as they were suitably rich in starches and could be cooked in boiling water easily.
More and more survivors came to his tribe too in the following days, hungry and desperate. Well, many of them were given tents, water bottles, and dried meat. To further support the growing population, a small team of available hunters and crackshot Scrappers was sent out to hunt as many Wilderbeasts as they could.
A week later, Argall finally found his sister's wandering tribe.
"You're a lot taller than I remember, Argall," His sister, Sereen, said as their delegation approached. She wore the tattered remnants of a Scrapper's Powered Exo-Suit, but its battery was heavily damaged and the only purpose it served now was physical protection. Her disheveled hair, dirty skin, and dark eyes meant she'd had little time to rest in the last few days. She carried with her a scythe-like weapon that seemed to have been made from the remains of Rangdan Warriors, their monomolecular blades that could slice through armor like nothing. The blades, Argall later found, grew from their bodies. Her acolytes, the Scrappers who accompanied her to their meeting, also carried similar weapons, but of a noticeably lower quality. "Damn, you grew up even faster than I thought."
Argall smiled as he glanced down at her. True enough, he now stood at little over nine-feet, which meant he towered over just about everyone. A part of him hoped he wouldn't grow any bigger. Still, his sister stood at a height of six and a half feet, which meant she also towered above most people, just not on the same level as himself. Mother was taller, still. "Mom said all I had to do was eat a lot and here we are."
"Tsk, you look like you ate the whole damn pantry, Argall." Sereen chuckled. And then, her features turned stony. "I hear you're uniting all the survivors into a single tribe. What for?"
"We don't know what's out there, sister," Argall said, briefly turning his gaze to the sky. "The Rangdan will return or they might not. It doesn't matter. Something will come eventually and they might just be stronger than the Rangdan themselves. We cannot let ourselves diminish and rely solely on the Iron Men to protect us. No, our people must flourish. We will reach out to the stars and build an interstellar empire of our own. We shall build ships that sail the stars and fearsome weapons such that no enemy shall stand before us. To do that, however, our people must stand united under one banner, under one glorious purpose."
"Nice speech," Sereen grinned. "Ah, screw it; I didn't even wanna lead those idiots. Let's just group up or whatever, I'm tired and done and I need a damn bath."
"Huh, that was quick." Argall smiled. "And, with that, our people are united. The time has come to look to the future."
"Ah, by the way, where's dad?"
AN: Chapter 26 is up on (Pat)reon!
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Just InCommunityForumMoreThe Shattering by wulfenheim Warhammer & Invincible Xover Rated: M, English, Words: 152k+, Favs: 724, Follows: 822, Published: Dec 14, 2023 Updated: Apr 20 223Chapter 25
Flying through deep space always felt different than when he flew within the gravity and atmosphere of a planet – any planet, really. For one, unless he was actively trying to cause a cataclysmic apocalypse, then he couldn't fly at full speed – not even remotely close to full speed, actually. Doing so would mean ravaging the surface of planets in a great storm of fire and death, which was why it was such a favored tactic of Viltrumites when dealing with upstart races and civilizations that did not know how to keep their heads down and serve. But, even then, flying through air meant a certain level of resistance, a force that pushed back and fought against him.
In deep space, however, there was nothing. Thragg was free to fly as fast as he could push himself. And he was fast, even more so than light. Viltrumites, after all, could fly from one galaxy to another within the span of a week if they were fast enough – several if they were slow. Thragg was the fastest and the strongest of his kind; he could do it in a week. And so, a few hundred light years was nothing. Of course, he was well-aware of the time dilation effect that space-travel caused. By the time he returned to his children, many years would've passed for them and, for Thragg, it would've only been a few days – maybe even hours.
Argall wasn't wrong about the coordinates, however, as Thragg sped away from the fifteenth habitable planet within the general area that his son traced the signal to, which turned out to be yet another dud. Out here, in the galactic void, there were very few planets and so, with every single one he searched and confirmed, the list of worlds grew thinner, which meant his target was getting closer and closer with every passing moment. Soon enough, he would avenge the death of his wife.
He surged forward once more, flying so inconceivably fast that light itself seemed frozen. How such a thing was even physical possible, Thragg had stopped asking a long time ago. Viltrumites simply were. There was no feasible physical, chemical, or scientific explanation for their power, their unimaginable strength; it simply was. And so, Thragg accepted that. He grinned, however, at the thought of Argall trying to figure out just how his powers worked; that boy was too curious for his own good. But his son would find nothing. Because there was nothing to find.
Another benefit of flying through deep space was that he didn't have to deal with pesky dust particles getting into his eyes. Not that such trifles could actually hurt him, but they were somewhat irritating, especially when flying with the intent to destroy.
Thragg reached the next planet in the general neighborhood – or, at least, the next habitable one. That creature, the Rangdan Prime, was prideful and egotistical; it wouldn't stoop so low as to hide in a barren rock in the void. No, it'd want a world that brimmed with life, where statues and great temples were erected in its honor. It called itself a god and, thus, like every other 'god' who dared face the might of Viltrum, would crave worship and devotion. Even if it could survive in the vacuum of space, the Rangdan Prime's vices would not be present and so, logic dictated that it would, in fact, prefer to spend its days on a living world.
It also wouldn't try to hide. Doing so would be akin to admitting that it was weaker than Thragg himself and, obviously, that entity would never admit such a thing. And so, finding it should be relatively easy.
The world he now flew over was quite the large one, comprised of a myriad of biomes – deserts, forests, glaciers, and seas. Life was primitive, however, and, after flying overhead for a full day, Thragg found absolutely nothing of interest, just a lot of fauna and flora. And so, he flew away and back into space, before moving onto the next solar system. There were, at most, three more planets for him to investigate, across two solar systems; one system, which was quite the rarity, had two habitable planets – at least, according to the star chart his son gave him.
By his reckoning, it didn't take very long before he reached the next one. The journey was rather boring, however, as there were very few cosmic satellites in the galactic void, only derelict planets and ancient asteroids. One would expect that the Rangdan would, at least, establish outposts this close to their home world, something to bolster their security, but apparently not. Maybe they established no outposts at all and would simply arrive at a planet, take what they needed, and flew off. That certainly seemed like the case. Then again, every single inhabitable world Thragg had visited, thus far, had been primitive – not a single trace of advanced forms of intelligence. Some only had trees in them. It was entirely possible, then, that the Rangdan had no real interest in such worlds. Perhaps their neural collars did not work below a certain intelligence threshold?
Thragg shrugged. He supposed it didn't matter.
Actually, it'd be rather hilarious if he found the Rangdan Prime essentially undefended, simply because its fleets were scattered across time and space.
He found the next world easily enough and, once again, it was inhabited solely by primitive fish-like creatures who, given enough time, may just evolve to be capable of being more than simple hunter-gatherers. So, once again, Thragg flew off. He wasn't sure how much time he spent flying in deep space – could be days, could be hours, could even be months. It was hard to gauge time when one was immortal and moving at the speeds that he did. For Thragg himself, it felt like he'd only been out here for a couple of hours at best. But, how long has it been for his children?
Hopefully not decades, but – considering the distance he'd traveled – that was probably an accurate estimate.
The next planet, once again, held nothing, being a ball of dry dust and sand – a barely-habitable desert world, where endless dunes and sandstorms reigned supreme. What little life existed did so in the form of tiny, burrowing insects that gather in the scant oases. Thragg didn't stay for long, though he did search as best he could, even if the presence of the Rangdan Prime on the dustball was incredibly unlikely. And, of course, he found nothing. And so, he simply moved on to the final planet, one that seemed to have an irregular orbital pattern around the same star as the desert world, a world that was shrouded in darkness.
It had to be this one.
Faster than even the speed of light, Thragg flew towards the dark planet and surged through a haze of black clouds and found a surface that was teeming with malformed structures and buildings, of monoliths and pyramids, all made of the same, inky black stone. And, everywhere he looked, were masses and masses of drones, a whole ocean of them. There must've been trillions, dead-eyed and bound by neural collars, stripped of any semblance of free will, enslaved. Thousands of different races, all united under a single, grim purpose: to serve the whims of the Rangdan Prime. But, honestly, Thragg had seen far worse than this. He'd seen the depths of depravity that sapient beings were capable of, the inconceivable cruelty of those who thought themselves above everyone else, those who thought themselves gods.
And so, Thragg remained unmoved. As he hovered over the sky, a great and shadowy mass loomed over him, like a storm cloud. And that mass soon revealed itself to be made up entirely microscopic machines, each one so inconceivably tiny as to be smaller than dust particles in a desert. The nano-machines merged and formed a gigantic, but otherwise alien face. "So, you've come."
It bore an ugly visage, like that of a dog, but with a thin snout. It had eight eyes, four on each side, and a mass of snaking tendrils atop its head and under its snout, like hair. It was the size of a mountain, too, but that was only the head. If this... illusion was at all anywhere close to its true size, then this should be interesting. Thragg had faced down titans before, veritable monsters who dwarfed entire cities, who – at their full height – drew in clouds with every breath. If the Rangdan Prime was anything like that, then it might just prove itself to be worthy of dying at the hands of Thragg.
"I did," He replied, frowning. "Now, show yourself, little god. And face your death. Come on, I don't have all day."
"Your insolence astounds me, anomaly," The machine swarm spoke, its voice powerful enough to shake mountains and crush cities. Thragg remained unmoved, hovering in place.
"Are you afraid of me, little god?" Thragg countered, seething. He was growing tired of this banter. "Are you so cowardly as to hide behind your little minions? Pathetic! If you have any pride, then you will come out and face me!"
"Very well." The machine likeness paused for a moment, before gradually dispersing.
And then, the world shook. The slaves froze as the land was split asunder, cracking apart and opening up. Thragg hovered higher, until he reached the clouds, to get a better look. Down below, upon the rocky ground, a great fissure began to form, from which an ocean of molten rock spewed forth. Millions of slaves died instantly as monoliths and statues and structures all fell into the boiling lake. And then, a titanic hand emerged, each of its six fingers as large as a space ship. Another hand emerged and soon the fissure grew even wider and more molten rock spewed forth, engulfing the otherwise dark world in a glowing mass of smoldering fire and liquefied stone.
A veritable giant pulled itself free from the lake of fire, its bulk so great that its mere presence cleared the clouds in the sky. Its true form, it seemed, was even larger than Thragg expected. Its shape was humanoid, with long arms and two legs. Its skin was a sickly green and from its back sprouted twin black wings. As it fully emerged from the shattered earth, the Rangdan Prime let loose a roar that cracked the planet's crust, causing massive fissures and furrows to appear across the planet, a storm of wind and dust swirling in the sky. And yet, Thragg remained unmoved as he cross his arms over his chest and looked down at the titan.
"BEHOLD, I AM THE RANGDAN! I AM RANGDA! I AM THE BREAKER OF WORLDS AND THE DESTROYER OF EMPIRES! I HAVE WITNESSED THE RISE AND FALL OF A MILLION CIVILIZATIONS! I AM A GOD!" Every word from its misshapen mouth brought forth hurricanes powerful enough to flatten cities and reduce mountain ranges to rubble.
Unfortunately, the god creature appeared to be made of flesh and so it wasn't a god at all. Just an immensely powerful, ancient, but ultimately mortal thing that no one's just killed yet. And that meant... sadly, that it really was no different to all the other gods Thragg had already killed. All of them were ancient and powerful, some having existed for millions of years. But, at the end of the day, they were all creatures of flesh and blood, no matter how alien or resilient their physical forms might've been. In the end, even gods died. This one would be no different.
In fact, its bulk meant it'd die faster than most.
Against a lesser foe, perhaps, it might've prevailed.
But Thragg had faced down far greater and older enemies, entities whose whispers caused the deaths of entire worlds, whose presence drained the life every living thing around them. It wasn't even the largest monster Thragg had killed.
"That is very nice..." Thragg sighed and shook his head. The Rangdan Prime bombarded his mind with Psychic Energy in an attempt to destroy his very being, but Thrag simply flew straight to outer space, just above the planet's upper atmosphere, avoiding the psychic assault, if only for a moment. It was powerful, certainly, more than enough to bring down the weakest of his race, but Thragg was far from the weakest. And he'd weathered far more powerful psychic assaults before. "Unfortunately... you're mortal."
"And, like any mortal, you will die."
Like a blazing meteorite from the depths of the cosmos, Thragg surged down at full speed, and time and space screeched as he exceeded the speed of light.
AN: Chapter 27 is up on (Pat)reon! Also, the next several chapters will switch is focus to Argall. Thragg won't show up for a while.
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Just InCommunityForumMoreThe Shattering by wulfenheim Warhammer & Invincible Xover Rated: M, English, Words: 152k+, Favs: 724, Follows: 822, Published: Dec 14, 2023 Updated: Apr 20 223Chapter 26
Argall smiled as the first of the anti-gravity magnetic propulsion vehicles hovered off of the ground and began zipping around in silence, leaving no earthly trace or track. His people cheered and celebrated from the stands, behind the railings. The magnetic engines were a success, he concluded, a great victory for himself and for the people of Hyperborea, his nation, his world, of which he reigned as Supreme Chancellor.
Just over three weeks ago, his Builder Bots, most of which he'd equipped with primitive thrusters for flight, had finished constructing the Nareena, Hyperborea's first space shipyard, where new vessels would be constructed. It was filled with automated builders and machines that'd aid in the construction of just about any design he could think of, including fabricators and foundries for the shaping of metal and stone. Argall named it after his mother, of course, seeing as it was his first and grandest construction to date. It was his way of honoring her legacy. Then again, he mused, most people were quick to move on and forget about the old legends, the Scrappers of old.
Now, they were little more than stories, told by the older generation, who – themselves – were fading into obscurity as more generations were born and raised in what was essentially an entirely different world. Still, some of the Old Ways remained, like the tradition of non-violence towards each other; in this case, towards fellow Hyperboreans. It made the police force almost pointless, honestly, which was why their role in society was relegated to the settling of civil disputes.
As for industry...
Land-bound foundries and factories existed, of course, since the planet required an industrial base, but such structures would soon become obsolete with the coming of the Star Forge, which Argall designed to be the heart of Hyperborean industry, capable of harnessing raw material from stars and refining them into something usable. But, of course, that was a far off thing. The Star Forge would require immense resources to build. He'd likely have to strip mine asteroids and neighboring planets clean. And, most of all, its construction, even by the most generous estimates, would take at least a hundred years to finish.
The sewer system of Caladan, the first true city in the whole world, was his second greatest achievement, to date. It had been quite a shock to find that designing a robust and effective sewer system took quite a bit of effort. But then Argall also quickly found that human filth, as it turned out, made for excellent fertilizer. The city itself was magnificent – tall, slender, and beautiful buildings with hanging gardens and waterfalls, with rivers of fresh, clean water flowing through a system of underground pipes, made available for everyone through the numerous drinking fountains dotted throughout the city, itself large enough to house every single citizen of Hyperborea, save for those who dedicated themselves to living out their lives in the steppes – as their ancestors had done.
Argall wouldn't begrudge them for their decision. The nomads were welcome to enter the great city of Caladan anytime they wished.
The city of Caladan was maintained by hundreds of advanced hydroponic farms, managed by automated machines, producing crops and vegetables. Great farms, ran by farmers themselves, managed the living conditions of livestock and other animals for consumption. Food was abundant and essentially infinite. His people, Argall mused, would never feel hunger or thirst – not on his watch. And so, his people prospered. That said, every single Hyperborean citizen was trained for war, made to endure military training and discipline even as they learned to write their own names. Argall hated it, but it was necessary. At all times, every citizen of Hyperborea needed to be ready for war.
"Well, I guess we can call that a success." Sereen said from her seat by his side. Argall's smile did not fade as he glanced at his sister, whose head now sported many streaks of white. As she was now, she looked so much like their mother. It was a pity that, even with all the rejuvenation treatments available, she refused to take any of them – or, at least, the ones that extended her life beyond two hundred - and would likely not live long enough to witness the day their people truly became interstellar.
But, of course, he respected her decision. And, honestly, at eighty-one years of age, Sereen was spry, hale, and hearty, having given birth to and raised ten children, many of whom were now great artisans and artists, inventors and builders, men and women of great renown. Her children were known to be top students at the military academy as well, though none of them ever bothered to become officers.
Argall nodded. "Indeed. Next week, we can begin the construction of our first FTL-capable ships. I estimate it'll take at least four months to finish a single one and a whole month of testing to determine if the Fold Drive is truly viable, at least until I can come up with a better design; the Necron Inertia-less Drive is... well it's giving me a damn headache just thinking about it."
Nareena smiled as she breathed in, closed her eyes, and leaned back. "Quite a lot has changed, since father disappeared, huh? All those years ago..."
Argall nodded. More than sixty years passed since his father disappeared and, in that time, the Rangdan did not return as he'd predicted. No alien menace attacked them, nothing. And so, a period of rebuilding followed, accompanied by what was essentially a cultural renaissance. And still, both Argall and Sereen never gave up hope that, one day, their father would return. "Yes... quite a lot of things have changed. Our people are no longer divided and we're on our way to becoming a true interstellar race, just as we'd hoped."
"What of your project, sister?" Argall asked.
"Oh, it's going well," Sereen answered. "It's going really smoothly, actually; I didn't even have to do much."
Though most of the Scrapyards had been tamed and the Dragons reclaimed by Phaeron Khoteph for convenience, many wild beasts and creatures still roamed the steppes. At his sister's insistence, however, Argall made it illegal to hunt them without a permit as a means of conserving Hyperborea's native fauna. The only ones who were exempted from this law were the nomads, who relied on hunting and gathering to fuel their lifestyle. But they were so few that any animal they killed would do little to actually hurt the ecosystem. And so, Sereen made it her personal mission to create a zoo, where Hyperboreans could witness these wild beasts in the flesh, without encroaching in the territory of the animals, but also keeping them well-fed and content in an environment that, more or less, mimicked their natural habitat.
"What's next for you?" Sereen asked. "Surely, FTL vessels aren't your only project?"
Argall sighed. "I would like to make my superhuman program public. I have kept it hidden for long enough, I think, to allow our people to acclimate to this new world. Now is the time to truly enhance them, to turn them into something greater, something more than human."
His initial designs for the gene-forges had been rushed – imperfect. But, after decades of study – and with some help from Phaeron Khoteph – Argall was finally able to perfect his initial design, which resulted in something he simply referred to as the Genesis Chamber, a device that held total dominion over the shape of flesh, down to the microscopic level, to the very organelles of the cells and the individual strands of DNA and RNA. Full and absolute control; a man could walk in and be turned into a lizard within moments if he so desired. Argall built and perfected it. Even Khoteph and his Honorable Cryptek, Jzahth, approved of his design, the latter commenting that it was a masterpiece – by mortal standards, at least.
Everything was ready. There were even a few, Argall mused, who've already undergone the transformation to become superhumans. But they looked no different from everyone else, their augmentations lurking just beneath the skin. There were five of them, Argall recalled, each one now mothers and fathers of many children, who'd inherit their parents' genetics – a perfect auto-immune system, perfect memory, nigh-indestructible bones, increased muscle density and physical strength and speed, auto-adjusting metabolic processes, lengthened telomeres, immunity to nearly every form of radiation, the removal of the necessity of sleep (and this one took him a while to crack), regenerative capabilities, and the ability to perfectly pass all of these traits to the next generation.
And this design was just the Mark 1. The Mark 2 was meant to be even greater, though most of its traits were geared towards warfare and violence. Argall designed the Mark 2 for those who'd prove themselves worthy of becoming Scrappers, a nod to the now-extinct profession, humanity's supersoldiers, meant to hold the line against all threats. The Mark 3 was somewhat of a lesser variant of the Mark 2, meant for infantrymen and naval officers, increasing hand-eye coordination and neural speed to almost godly levels, without the bone growth or increased muscle-mass.
"Do you think they're ready for something like that?" Sereen asked, raising a brow. "Even the advanced rejuvenants you rolled out decades ago took a while to be accepted. This would be an entirely different monster."
"I know," Argall said, looking up at the sky, where the magnetic trains sped through the railways faster than the blink of an eye – another marvel, but not something he considered particularly difficult to implement, honestly. "But our people should be ready, Sereen. Something is coming. I don't know what it is. I thought, at first, that it might've been the Rangdan, but now I'm not sure. Father must've dealt with them, already. But I feel it in my bones, Sereen; something monstrous is headed straight for us. And we have to be ready to meet them."
"And you think that turning every single person in Hyperborea into a superhuman is the best option, moving forward?" Sereen asked. Argall detected no sarcasm or doubt in her tone, only sincere curiosity, despite the actual tone of it suggesting otherwise.
"I believe it is the best decision, yes." Argall nodded. "And, besides, I honestly don't see any downsides to this, especially if every single Hyperborean is given the same, equal, augmentation. There would be no risk of segregation or discrimination; I'd make sure of it. Hell, I'll even turn the nomads."
"Cool," Sereen chuckled. "You'll have to word it really well if you're gonna wanna convince everyone, but I don't think you're gonna have any problem with that, you smooth talking little shit."
"Hah, you're right about that," Argall smiled, before immediately frowning as he turned his head up to the sky. "There's not much time left... I can feel it. This needs to happen soon. Everything needs to happen soon."
"You saw something, didn't you?" Sereen asked. "I think you mentioned it once, many years ago; you saw something in your dreams. And it wasn't the Rangdan."
Argall closed his eyes for a moment, his thoughts drifting back to that strange dream, where he'd seen great shadows looming over the sky, of gargantuan engines of war brought to bear against his people. He saw annihilation and conquest. All because he hadn't prepared properly, because he'd failed to arm his people. And Sereen was right. Now, after much contemplation, Argall was rather certain that what was coming wasn't the Rangdan. Those aliens, if they even dared to return, would be wiped out by Phaeron Khoteph. And, there was a part of him that knew – somehow – that his father had dealt with the Rangdan, somehow, entirely by himself. No, what he'd glimpsed was something else entirely, a legion of armored giants - brutal and without a single thought of mercy or diplomacy.
"No, it wasn't the Rangdan," Argall nodded. "I saw something... far worse, but shrouded in darkness and shadow. All I know is that it can't possibly hurt to prepare for any possible threat."
"Well, I'll stand by you," Sereen said. "For as long as I can, anyway. Hopefully, I won't live long enough to see this great enemy you keep talking about. But my children and, maybe, their children will surely fight at their uncle's side."
"I'll declare the existence of the Genesis Chamber tomorrow," Argall said. "I'll explain to our people that this is the way to the future, the key to our salvation. They'll agree with me; they always do. It's about time we moved forward for real."
Sereen smiled and raised a glass of liquor, distilled from local crops. "To the future, then?"
Argall smiled back and nodded, raising a glass of his own. He didn't like drinking, but Sereen sure did. His sister liked to test just how much her liver could feasibly take before it failed her, just like their mother, actually. Somehow, her liver was still winning. "To the future."
Around them, the crowds continued cheering as the anti-gravity magnetic-propulsion vehicle began performing stunts mid-air. Argall's eyes narrowed and his smile faded. "To the future..."
He didn't tell her that, in his dream, Argall saw his people waging war against other humans.
AN: Chapter 28 is out on (Pat)reon!
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"I guess this is as far as we can safely take it," Argall concluded with a smile. "Any more and the subject will stop being human and we don't want that."
He really didn't. There came a point in Gene-Forging, wherein the subject was altered far too much and far too many times that it simply ceased being the same creature it'd been when the Gene-Forging first began. In this case, altering the subject even further meant it'd cease being human entirely. For instance, the subject's life-span was enhanced to reach over two thousand years – Terran Standard Time. Muscle and bone density were similarly augmented to reach levels beyond superhuman. Argall's goal with this experiment was simple: reach the very edge of human bio-evolution, mutation, and the limits of Gene-Forging.
As it turned out, there was almost no limit to any of those three. Not at all. With the right creativity and physiological knowledge, anything was possible. Already, Argall had plans for the creation of Enhanced Humanoid Drones, living machines that were shaped to resemble mankind, but lacking in conscious thought, creativity, and free-will. As their name suggested, they were essentially little more than drones, meant to act as chaff in times of war and violence, meant to die in the place of true humans. Since Argall had no intention of using AI, the EHD's were simply attached to himself as his enhanced mind was more than capable of handling thousands, even millions of them, at once.
And that was just one example.
In his mind were designs of gargantuan engines of flesh and bone, monstrous amalgamations of technology and biology, meant to defend humanity from those that would seek its end, Bio-Titans. Of course, he didn't make them just yet, because his people were not at war, but the potential was there. With the Genesis Chamber at his disposal, anything was possible.
"Okay, go ahead and take a break," Argall spoke into the microphone. "We'll do a running test in half an hour."
This particular experiment was a resounding success, however, as he'd managed to create the most advanced superhuman he possibly could, while still keeping their genome compatible with the rest of humanity.
Speaking of the human race, it'd been almost five years since Argall's declaration on genetic-editing and the creation of superhumans and, as he'd expected, reception was kind. Everyone wanted to be stronger, faster, and more resilient, and so 99% of the total population allowed themselves and their children to be genetically-tailored by the Gene-Forge, the Genesis Chamber. The remaining 1% were either nomads or those too old to care about the future, mostly retired Scrappers and whoever else still remembered the old days. The 99% were known as the First Breed. Their lifespans were quadrupled. Their muscles and bones were denser and stronger, capable of a high level of regeneration; their brains capable of processing data and information a thousand times faster than the human norm. They were also functionally immune to disease, which came from their heavily-augmented immune systems.
Of course, this also came at the cost of great dietary demands – a steep 200% increase in daily calorie requirement. But, considering the excess food produced by their farms and the meat from cloned animals, food was not a problem. Even with a much hungrier population, the food surplus was maintained. And, in the highly unlikely event of a famine, the Genesis Chamber was more than capable of turning raw biomass into edible food.
"Is it everyone you'd hoped for?" His sister, Sereen, asked. Argall turned and there she was, looking more or less the same as she did a decade ago. She might not have taken rejuvenants, like everyone else, or undergone Gene-Therapy within the Genesis Chamber, but Sereen was just weirdly resilient to the effects of aging. She wasn't normal. But, then again, neither was he and neither were their parents.
She never left his side these days and he was glad for that. Age and death and mortality had already sunk its claws into his sister; she was dying and there was no stopping the inevitable. And so, every little moment, no matter how mundane, counted. They ate breakfast and lunch together most of the time, usually when Sereen's grandchildren weren't around. But her and Argall always made time for afternoon tea, where they ate cake instead of drinking tea.
"It's actually more than what I hoped for," Argall answered, smiling. The subject was a volunteer named Tomas Browner, whose grandfather – Argall checked – fought and died against the Rangdan when they first appeared. Tomas had been among the first to be transformed into the First Breed, becoming superhuman. And now, he was the only volunteer for this particular project, becoming something even greater than superhuman, but ultimately still human, still mortal, which was the goal to begin with. If Argall wanted, he could've exaggerated the physical changes, but – once again – that wasn't the point. "But, actually transplanting these attributes to everyone else is not going to be as easy as when I made the First Breed. It'd be easier to modify fetuses while they're still in their mothers' wombs. Otherwise, it'd take too long – not efficient."
"Okay," Sereen nodded. "Onto other matters then."
Argall's eyes lit up as he sat down. "I'm still trying to figure out how the Zero-Point Reactor works. Phaeron Khoteph has offered much help in this regard, but even he's stumped. The Necrontyr apparently once had access to this, long ago, but they abandoned it for some reason that not even Phaeron Khoteph can remember. So, while I'm trying to get it to work, I've perfected the Micro-Fusion Cells."
"Oh?" Sereen's eyes widened. "I didn't think those things would work."
"It wasn't particularly difficult," Argall shrugged. "It was common enough among the weapons from the Long Night- or whatever the old ones used to call that age of strife and war. And I had plenty of samples to work with. So, now, mass-producing them won't be a problem. I can finally begin arming the Planetary Guard with proper, uniform weapons."
"Wait- lemme guess, it's either plasma rifles or laser rifles, because you used to be so crazy about those things."
"Ha! Neither!" Argall grinned as he brought up a three-dimensional projection before them. It was a rifle, painstakingly designed and tinkered with to be as perfect as it could possibly be. "I call it the Hardlight Rifle. It shoots exotic photons, which are harnessed from quantum fields. My biggest hurdle was the energy requirement. A Zero-Point battery could sustain this thing indefinitely. The Micro-fusion Cell could maybe sustain fifteen shots before running out of juice."
Which was fine as the Micro-fusion Cells were designed to be modular in nature – easy to install and remove, essentially acting as ammunition. And they were easy to mass-produce. "Actually, would you like to fire one? I have a functioning prototype ready. All that's missing is paint."
"Hell yeah, I would!"
They walked down the test range, where a variety of targets moved about. For this one, Argall chose the largest and most heavily-armored test dummy, which many of his technicians referred to only as the Boulder, because it, quite literally, was just a five meter wide bolder of iron-stone, covered in three layers of Adamantium plates. None of the weapons Argall had built, thus far, were able to pierce it fully – one end and out the other side. Oh, more than a few were able to penetrate the first three layers of Adamantium and a few inches of Iron Rock, but never a full penetration.
The Hardlight Rifle was lighter than any weapon he'd ever built, merely half a fifth of a kilogram. The heaviest part about it was the Micro-Fusion Cell. And, because of that, Sereen very easily picked one up and took aim, the rifle's black barrel extending forward, faint golden trails emanating from the gap between the interlocking plates that made up its chassis. "It's transforming."
Argall nodded. "Yes, if it's holstered, it'll take on a much smaller, more compact shape. Once drawn, the Harlight Rifle extends and takes on its true form, which is what you're seeing now."
The Hardlight Pistol was a little trickier, since it was already so small that making it any smaller would be detrimental. The solution? Turn it into a bracelet – an accessorized weapon. But, the designs for it were still firmly on the drawing board.
"Useful," Sereen said, nodding. "And it's so light that our soldiers wouldn't be burdened by carrying them. Is this armed?"
"Yeah," Argall nodded, pointing at the circular chamber on the left face of the Hardlight Rifle, where a Micro-Fusion Cell fed it all the power needed for a total of fifteen shots. Or just one really powerful shot if Sereen pulled and held the trigger. "Fire away. But try aiming at the Boulder. I wanna see what happens."
Sereen lowered the rifle and raised a brow. "You haven't fired this thing yet?"
"Nope!"
"So, I'm the test dummy?"
"Don't worry," Argall smiled. "If it blows up on your face, then I'll tell your kids you died of old age."
Sereen grinned and took aim. "Screw you, Argall."
She pulled the trigger and released a vibrant beam of dusty golden light that punched through the Boulder and out the other side, punching through every other test dummy, before going through the wall, itself made of several meters' worth of Adamantium. The damage done was clean – no heat, no collateral damage. "It worked perfectly, I'd say."
"What's its effective range?" Sereen raised a brow as she placed the rifle down. "This seems like the perfect recipe for friendly fire, don't you think?"
"Uncharged? The beam can probably pierce anything and everything within 1.5 kilometers; if it's charged, then the range is doubled, but only once per Micro-Fusion Cell." Argall answered. "Also, I've taken into account the friendly fire thing and have taken precautions. Behold!"
He turned to the range and... nothing happened.
Sereen raised a brow. "Did you forget to press a button, maybe?"
"Wait, a moment," Argall looked down and- there it was. He'd forgotten the press the button. "Aha! Behold!"
A faint golden shield shimmered around the Boulder. "Now, try again."
Sereen shrugged and did just that. Now, instead of punching right through, the dusty golden beam dissipated harmlessly the moment it met the shield, becoming little more than little motes of light in the air. "It looks pretty."
"It does," Argall smiled. "It's a Photonic Shield, made specifically to counter this one so that our soldiers don't shoot each other in the battlefield. But I've been able to tune it, somewhat, so that it also slows down projectiles that enter its field by a factor of up to 90%. With their Power Armor and Regeneration, I doubt our soldiers will be in serious danger in any battlefield."
There were, of course, other, more effective shields than the Photonic Shield, but none of them were capable of stopping the golden beams of the Hardlight Rifle and, with its ability to poke holes in anything and everything it hit, friendly fire was almost guaranteed. So, for now, the Photonic Shield was the best choice, especially since infantry were meant to be mobile and fast. Mobile Artillery were another matter, of course, as they had just enough space to fit numerous types of shields
"What about explosions?"
Argall shrugged. "That would depend on the force of the explosion itself, but the Photonic Shield's kinetic dampening should keep them safe from most explosives, including shrapnel."
"It'll be-"
An alarm blared over his ears – a very particular alarm that Argall had not expected to hear for a very long time. His eyes narrowed and his face turned grim. He knew this day was coming, but he didn't think it'd happen now. But, if nothing else, his people now had the means to fight back and, more importantly, the Nation of Hyperborea was under the protection of the Necrons. Yes, there was nothing to worry about just yet. Argall turned to Sereen. "One of our probes encountered an alien civilization."
"Rangdan?" She asked.
Argall shook his head as streams of reports and captured images appeared in his mind's eye, through his neural link with the probes. These ships were most definitely not Rangdan – massive and heavily-armored, reliant on some kind of jet propulsion, based entirely on the great plumes of plasma surging at the backs of their ships. Argall shook his head and transferred the images to the nearby console, allowing Sereen to view them. "No. Something else."
"Where were they spotted?" Sereen's eyes narrowed.
"Sector 3," Argall answered. "That's five systems away."
AN: Chapter 29 is up on (Pat)reon!
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Those ships were clearly of human design, Argall realized after another moment of staring at the three dimensional images. He'd seen such designs before, many of them among the wrecked vessels in the Scrapyards. Or, at the very least, Argall had seen very similar designs before. The ones in the image had clearly been heavily modified for greater durability and fire power as the overall size of them were double the ones Argall had seen, the number of weapons similarly given a potent increase. These were vessels of war, Argall noted immediately, while the ones he'd seen, surveyed, and studied on this world were likely merchant vessels, given their light weapons and general lack of armor.
Sector 3 was a solar system that was comprised almost entirely of gas giants, an anomalous sort of formation, orbiting a main sequence star. There were a total of four planets in the system and none of them were good for anything – at least, none of them held anything of value for the Hyperboreans, under Argall's leadership. But, perhaps, a more primitive ship that still made use of jet propulsion may be able to harness the gas giants for an ungodly amount of fuel. Argall wondered if these ships had energy shields at all. More importantly, Argall wondered how they achieved faster-than-light travel, given their obvious low-tech means of basic propulsion.
Argall's eyes narrowed. Quite a few of the ruined vessels in the scrapyards did possess a means of faster-than-light travel, but their methods were... concerning, forcibly opening unstable portals to other dimensions and using AI to chart everything for them. Argall wasn't even sure how that worked, since logs indicated the presence of incredibly hostile extra-dimensional energy creatures, necessitating the need for something called a Gellar Field. Very dangerous. Very unstable. Argall still had the designs in his mind and he was never going to build any of them. Any faster-than-light engine that relied on inherently unstable variables was too dangerous to be fabricated.
There were ten of the "alien" ships in total, each one about the same size and shape, regardless of the subtle differences in design and color, custom jobs most likely, meant to represent differing cultures, perhaps, or simply the personal tastes of their commanding officers; it mattered little. The base technology of the ships were identical and, therefore, it was likely these were a united people, at the very least, even if he found no unifying symbol or insignia.
Each ship was nearly five kilometers in length and almost half that in width and diameter, easily capable of fitting millions of souls in cramped corridors. Was this a merchant fleet of some kind? Or, perhaps, were they pirates and marauders? Such things certainly would be present in the greater galaxy. But, hopefully, that wouldn't be the case.
"We're gonna need better footage," Sereen said from beside him as she too surveyed the images. And that was, perhaps, the biggest problem. "Drawing any reasonable conclusion from any of this is going to be a mess."
Argall nodded in agreement. "One of the latest unmanned space vessels makes use of the magnetic propulsion engines for void travel, powered by a miniaturized fusion reactor. I'm going to send it right out, just to see what we might be dealing with. On that note, however, I believe that, unless these... visitors make their way towards the Hyperborean System, then I see no reason to initiate First Contact, especially not when both our navy and our military are far from ready to engage in any sort of warfare. We technically don't even have warships just yet."
"You might wanna hasten production and training, then," Sereen said, her eyes narrowing just before she leaned back and away from the images. "There's a big chance that these guys will just float away. The Hyperborea System is over ten light years away and it's not like there are traces of us there."
"I've already hastened the production," Argall said, frowning. He'd did just that the moment he received the message that aliens had been spotted. He'd been complacent for long enough and his people had prepared for long enough. At the very least, everyone knew what was coming. Every single Hyperborean knew for a fact that the peace in which they prospered in now was a fleeting thing, which was why many of them were so eager to shed their base humanity to become something greater, to become superhumans. The time for war was coming very soon. It didn't mean they'd be warring against these visitors, in particular, but Argall knew in his heart that a time of great chaos was coming. "And, you're right, the chances of them ever finding us if we do nothing are quite low, actually. Off the top of my head, there's a 5% chance, at best, that they accidentally stumble into our system – and that's assuming they don't stumble into any of the territories of the Necron Lords who serve Phaeron Khoteph, which would be disastrous for them as, by Phaeron Khoteph's admission, his subordinate lords aren't nearly as friendly or as courteous as himself."
Even now, hard-light rifles and powered exoskeletal armored suits were being fabricated by the hundreds. The Hyperboreans were all trained to fight, since birth, all of them given the same basic training and discipline, taught to follow commands by superior officers and to wield the weapons given to them. After basic training, which ended at the age of fifteen, there were many who forged onward and either became a military or naval officer. Hence, switching to a war-economy was as easy as flipping a switch.
The only exceptions being the Nomads, but Argall honestly didn't care too much for them as they kept to themselves.
With a simple, mental command, a single, unmanned vessel broke off from the space port, Nareena, and flew off into the void, a live-feed of everything around it appearing on a large screen in front of them, displaying a vibrant sea of stars, each one wheeling overhead as the drone surged forward. Sereen's eyes widened. "How fast can it fly?"
"Right now? It's moving at about ten thousand kilometers per hour and increasing steadily," Argall answered. "Once we're at a safe distance, I'll engage the Fold-Drive and speed won't matter anymore."
The Fold Drive was... Argall's rudimentary imitation of the Necron Inertia-less Drive, which allowed their ships to speed up indefinitely, quite literally breaching the speed of light through brute force. Argall... didn't know how that worked and, try as he might, he could quite understand the technology that allowed for such a thing to even happen. Perhaps, given centuries of study, he might just crack it, but Argall didn't have that sort of time. And so, he created the Fold Drive, which was derived from the Warp Drive. Only, instead of opening a portal to some weird dimension, filled with strange energy creatures, the Fold Drive used a similar principle to 'fold' space, allowing a vessel to move much-much 'faster' than it should, by virtue of the surrounding space becoming shorter. Trips that would take several weeks with the magnetic propulsion engine would now take only a single week.
Still incredibly slow by Argall's standards, but at least no longer sluggish by interstellar standards.
"Do you think the aliens will still be there by the time this drone arrives?" Sereen asked. And, at that, Argall could only shrug.
"It'll take several weeks for the drone to actually reach Sector 3." Argall answered. That was a pretty good question, actually. And, unfortunately, due to the nature of interstellar travel as it was for him, the answer was a lot less than what he'd have otherwise wanted. "I'd say maybe two weeks, at least. Chances are, they're probably not gonna be there anymore. But, if they are stopping to refuel and it seems like they are, then I'm willing to wager that they'll still be there."
"What about the initial probe that took the first images?" Sereen asked. "Surely, it can still be controlled?"
Argall shook his head. "That was one of our very first probes, unpowered and uncontrolled. All it does is float in one direction and take dozens of images every few seconds."
"Do you think the aliens might've noticed it?"
"Hardly," Argall said. "That device barely has an energy signature and, even then, it's no larger than a human head. I doubt they'll ever take notice of it."
"Whatever the case," Argall finished. "I'm going to be declaring a state of national emergency. We're switching to a war-economy and, as soon as it's possible, arming every single civilian. Our first fleet should be finished in a week, especially now that I've dedicated every single Builder Bot to assist in the Nareena Shipyard. Fifteen ships: one battleship, three cruisers, eight frigates, and three hunter-killers. Should be enough to neutralize our 'visitors' if they prove hostile. If nothing else, our technology is greater and more advanced than theirs could ever be. Our ships will be faster too – more agile, more maneuverable. And, with the Hard-light Cannons, we can pick them off from immense distances."
"If this turns bloody, we're not going to lose – not at all." That wasn't even mentioning the fact that Phaeron Khoteph would step in to defend them in the very unlikely scenario that the visitors reached their homeworld. Or that many of the surrounding planets in the nearby systems were, in fact, the domains of powerful Necron lords.
"Alright," Sereen nodded. And then, her watch started beeping and she smiled. "Looks like I'm off for brunch with my grandkids. See you later, Argallator."
"See you soon; make sure not to die of old age before we can eat lunch tomorrow, okay?" Argall chuckled and waved his sister goodbye. Now, there were about a thousand things he needed to prepare and very little time. First and foremost, he needed to inform the people of just what was happening and what was expected of them.
Argall breathed in and turned to his desk, where an old and faded picture of his mother and father stood. Argall took the framed picture and smiled. They looked so happy here – so normal, so... mundane. "Thank you... mom... dad... for raising me as you did. Otherwise, I would not have found the strength to lead my people. I feel like war's coming over the horizon, probably not against these visitors, but against something far greater. I hope I'm ready. Dad... I hope you come back soon. I could really use some guidance."
About two weeks later, the stealth probe finally sent the images he'd been waiting for. Now, Argall stood, Sereen by his side, accompanied by all the leaders, generals and admirals, who were to be informed of any development regarding the issue with the alien visitors, alongside the top scientists from every field. After all, Argall mused, the whole point of this was to eventually pass over the reins of governance to the people themselves. He didn't want to rule them forever. He didn't want to become some eternal overlord. He just wanted to be in a laboratory, creating and designing wonders.
The new images were far clearer, revealing even more details than the last one.
The vessels were, in fact, siphoning thousands of tons of gas from the gas giants, likely for fuel. However, one peculiar thing that Argall immediately noted was that the ships were... damaged – heavily damaged, in fact. Some of them looked just about ready to fall apart at an infant's touch. It was clear, as well, that the damage came from weapons. These vessels were likely the tattered remnants of a once mighty fleet, here to lick its wounds.
"Well," Sereen was the first to voice her thoughts. "They're definitely not here to invade us; that's for sure. And definitely not with those ships."
The rest of the civilian, military, and naval delegates nodded in agreement. Honestly, Argall mused, a single cruiser could probably deal with the entire fleet. But, Argall wasn't going to say anything until the 'normal' humans decided to ask for his advice on the matter. He wanted them to make a decision on their own, whenever possible.
"Should we try to initiate First Contact?" One of the Admirals brought up. Thus far, Argall mused, there were two admirals and two generals – two fleets, the other still under construction, and two legions of soldiers, one for each general. "They're practically harmless."
Sereen occupied a very unique position among them, Argall mused. She technically held no office, but her word was highly respected, the same as his mother, Nareena, who lived in relative obscurity, but was revered among the Scrappers of old. So, when his sister spoke, every single delegate listened. "I say we try to initiate First Contact through drones. That way, if they prove hostile, no human life is wasted. No one gets hurt."
Argall smiled and leaned back as the delegates discussed and debated. Two sides popped up, he noted; one side, led by Sereen, wished to initiate contact, while the other wished to simply observe and learn without initiating contact. Personally, Argall was in favor of the latter group. There was very little to gain from these stragglers. But, ultimately, he'd respect whatever decision they managed to arrive in; it was only right, after all.
AN: Chapter 30 is up on (Pat)reon!
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