Captain Crovia left her trading ship via the docking line. She had mentally prepared for the brief weightlessness of the docking station, which was typical of the Farrar space station. Orion Arms Trading Company owns all Faelle space stations and still has them from Lifte
s company purchased new countermeasure engines. Adding gravity to a butted tube is too expensive.
But this station belongs to Andrea's regime. Instead of being weightless, Clovia was subject to a slight increase in gravity to match Andrea's home planet. The transitions are seamless and flawless, demonstrating a casual mastery of gravity that goes far beyond Faelle.
Upon entering the station, she was greeted by an automated transport vehicle and whisked through the station in absolute silence. It placed her in a conference room, where three Andrians were waiting for her at a table. There was no seat on Clovia's side of the table, nor did she expect one. The Andrea regime abhorred casual chatter and flowery language. Meetings should be as short and concise as possible. Excessive language is considered a way to hide a lie.
"Captain Clovia, it was you who asked us to meet. What does the Orion Arms Trading Company want?"
"We are calling on all parties to support us in calling in an invasion force. I am here to request the use of saboteurs," he said.
The Andrians looked at each other, their vague, serpentine features and thick bodies all showing surprise in their body language. Clovia realizes this from her extensive dealings in the Andlem space. Andrea, on the far left, tapped her paws on the metal table, thoughtfully.
“We don’t owe Fael or your company any favors,” Andrea said. "Why do we allow this to happen?"
"I'm here with full authority over the Roots. You make a price and we'll give it to you."
The Ender on the far left tapped his paw again, followed by a few minutes of deep deliberation. He cited a figure that could bankrupt some global economies. Captain Clovia's face turned pale, and her brown skin darkened with light green.
"We will pay the price," Clovia said.
"Interesting." Andrea on the far left said again. "Once the saboteur returns safely, we will refund half. This system must be vital to the company."
"That's everything," Clovia said eagerly.
I encountered an enemy fleet a week from my outpost. They had more than 1,500 warships advancing in a stationary formation. Each of these ships is at least as big as my own Viper and many times larger than my small attack drone. In effect, this is the equivalent of sending a small fighter jet against a battleship.
Fleet designs ranged from the heavily armored ships that broke through my Mobius Gate blockade to the lighter, more sophisticated-looking ships that squeezed behind rows of larger ships. A dozen crescent-shaped craft occupied the left wing, while the top and right wings were dominated by craft similar to those that had visited Earth. However, instead of having many branches like a tree, these craft have a few large, bulky branches with huge pods filled with weapons.
In fact, it's a mixed bag, as more than half of the ships are fleet-specific. These are all the hallmarks of a mercenary army, assembled against us to completely eliminate any opposition to the Orion Arms Trading Company. Some have obvious clusters of lasers, some have gun barrels indicating some sort of hypervelocity weapon, and some even have missile-sized ports, which I found to be very ineffective.
However, on my end, I have my attack drone moving in endless loops and ever-changing patterns. My drones are complex designs with multiple weapons loadouts and armor arrays, as well as considerable point defense. In the first engagement, I didn't deploy a single full-sized battleship, but despite their absence, I had 83,212 assault drones flying towards the fleet. I am ready.
"Um, um, this is General Brooks, trying to contact Nikolai on the Origin. Is this thing on?" The last part was barely audible, like the general was speaking to someone else in the room.
"Yes, General?" I asked, paying only a fraction of my attention to what he was saying. I was in total war mode, with hundreds of clues on every side. I'm monitoring the enemy fleet and the "Gate of Mobius" with the Chosen CubeSat network, I'm tracking enemy ships detaching from the main fleet and heading for Earth, I'm watching Gerry accelerate into a slingshot around Venus Maneuver. The focus is on the three battleships I sent out as long-range reinforcements in case they arrived in time to help fight the mysterious enemy. Taking everything else into account, the needs and desires of a small group of survivors aren't really high on my priority list.
"Ah, Nikolai, yes. The parts you provided worked and our heating system is back to normal again," he said, almost reluctantly. It sounded like he was saying thank you, but he didn't say it and didn't want to say it.
I can't understand the trajectory of Gerry's life. Based on the speed at which he entered the Venusian slingshot, his trajectory was completely off Earth. While I was musing, he disappeared behind the planet. I think I understand his trajectory, just not his purpose.
"I'm glad to hear that, General. What can I do for you?" I asked.
The enemy fleet started firing on my drones, and I returned the favor. I frowned to myself because the enemy fire was heavy. The first salvo destroyed or seriously damaged 4.319% of my fleet. The enemy fleet suffered only 3.995% losses. In a war of attrition, I will lose.
I watched the enemy formation more closely. They sailed in a rough cube, with the heaviest ship on the outside. I could see many of the radiators trailing behind the boats, which on the damaged boats were turning red as they tried to dissipate heat as quickly as possible. I had thought this formation was static and attributed that to the fact that this appeared to be a mixed force without extensive combat training.
However, closer analysis revealed that individual vessels randomly changed course, staying within approximately 100 meters of moving points in the formation. Taking flight time into account, this reduces my long-range firepower by 87.23%. My laser couldn't stay on target long enough to do significant damage, and many of the hypervelocity bullets were lost or grazed the armor rather than the estimated weakness. In fact, the standard firepower used by the lighter and faster Wasp was completely lost most of the time, and the gravity shields used deflected the firepower that hit so much that it bounced off the edges of the ship's armor on impact return. Also, they have more effective point defense firepower than my drones. That's not to say my drones couldn't hit incoming fire, it's just that some were overloaded and others weren't targeted at all.
"Yes, well, in light of that, we have discussed your proposal," General Brooks said. "We have agreed that you may serve us."
If I instruct my team leader, the NI-15, to create point defense teams within their squads and coordinate defensive firepower, I can significantly reduce my loss rate. Another 5.114% loss was accumulated when I conducted analysis and designed a counter attack algorithm for the NI-15 squad leaders. I rushed it out as fast as I could. It's sloppy and probably has a lot of bugs, but it will help. I focused on improving the algorithm. Then General Brooks' words hit me. Did he mean to serve them?
"At your service?" I asked, doubt in my voice.
"Uh, yes. If you can coordinate with my assistant, we can conduct an inventory of Origin's assets and conduct an orderly transfer of operational control so that we can begin to restore everything to the way it should be on Earth "We can start rebuilding the United States of America and show those Chinese that we don't need them."
Somewhere behind my hundreds of lines of attention, a security scan ended. The folder Gerry brought to my attention was clean and safe. No programs, no worms or viruses. It only contains text and pictures.
I opened the file.
"General, please wait a moment." I said, ending the connection.
I walked into the house but it was too quiet. The kids should be running around and my wife should be talking to them. The TV was supposed to be playing a daytime soap opera, and she swore it was on just to create background noise while she worked remotely.
"Honey?" I called. I heard a noise behind the house and headed that way. I walked in and my mom had a gun. My wife was crouched in the corner with the two girls behind her, her head bleeding from the scratches.
"You!" my mother yelled. For the first time in my life I saw my mother's hair disheveled and her face without makeup. Her clothes looked rumpled. "The church has discovered you and your abnormal... abnormal life, And threatened to fire him for hiding this! "It's your fault he left me!"
"Mom, put the gun down," I said, approaching slowly. "I know you're upset, but that's not the way to handle anything. We have nothing to do with your marriage and your church."
“Let me get the kids out,” my wife said. "They are innocent."
The gun shook. "They're innocent. I guess I have to raise them so they don't become aliens too."
I heard the front door open and my ex-husband's voice suddenly boomed out. "Are you ready girls?" I double parked my car, not wanting to get a ticket. "
Mother's gun shot toward the door, and I took the opportunity to pounce on her. The last thing I remember is the gunshot and my wife screaming.
experiment. The folders were filled with details from thousands of genetic experiments. Genetic modifications, experimental surgeries, drug trials. All experiments were conducted on living humans, and almost none were willing subjects. In a matter of nanoseconds, I devoured the contents of the entire folder, reading and watching nearly three hundred years of systematic, cold-blooded, and ruthless experimentation by humans on humans.
Videos show homeless people tied to beds and transformed into lizard-like monsters weeks later. Most were dead and vivisected in the same room, with other victims still hanging from a rope, and none of them were given even basic painkillers. Those who survived lived a short and painful life before being executed and dissected in the name of progress.
Other videos show rooms filled with children with animal features and researchers dressed in white and wearing masks walking from room to room, observing but not interacting. Many children are too sick to move, and even if newborns are sent straight to day care from artificial creation in a genetics lab, their DNA will kill them.
I watched a video of a dictator yelling at a group of scientists while kids trying to clone and grow super soldiers sat in an observation room. These children have the bodies of adults but the minds of toddlers, confused and frightened. One of them was mentally shut down and she was just holding her knees and rocking back and forth.
The folder holds videos and documents collected from dozens of countries over hundreds of years, documenting systemic abuses that began and ended in different places under different regimes. Not alone. This is not a government. This is something humans repeat over and over again, decade after decade, century after century. The only unifying factor is the relentless pursuit of one thing – becoming a better soldier.
The third iteration of my point defense algorithm stabilized my losses, and the enemy fleet knew this. They started to accelerate toward my formation, but that was only good news for me. I already know what I need to know about how the fleet fights, and the NI-5 and NI-15. The enemy was cautious and calculating, which is the sign of a good general directing this operation. They left no opportunities to exploit, no surprise tactics for me to counterattack. They must have thought it would be to their advantage to have a knife fight-like fight in outer space. I want to prove them wrong.
Enemy point defense has also been improved, understanding our fire patterns. But my pilots are all Nikola I
tellige
ces), an adaptable, sentient computer that doesn't fall into bad habits or accidentally repeat mistakes after discovering them. They learn and change during combat, so the drone that's under attack now is very different from the drone that was under attack 30 seconds ago. Knife fighting range is ideal, firepower comes quickly, and NI's quick decision-making can shine through enemy fleets. I gave the order, and our formation formed a nearly impenetrable wall of point defense while accelerating toward the enemy formation. If we can break through the protective outer ring of a heavily armored ship, we can target the cooling radiators and weaker ships. We can defeat the fleet from within.
The videos aren't the worst part of the folder. In fact, that's far from the worst part. The folder contains detailed records of each experiment. It is a cross-reference indicator and a detailed report of experimental failure, which can be used as a reference. Here's a detailed roadmap for not just how, but when these experiments can be done again, and how best to create blindly loyal super-soldiers in the future. This folder is not placed here for archiving purposes. It is put here as part of future plans.
There is one subfolder that stands out. It contains documents from the Nikolai Foundation, as well as their own embryonic laboratory experiments. They successfully modified the baseline of human genes to eliminate abnormalities and genetic diseases. On the surface, this is the highlight of a group of bad guys. But digging deeper led to shady dealings with the USNA government, where they were experimenting with using the data collected in this folder to create a viable, sub-race of super soldiers. The foundation happily completed the work, and in return the USNA turned a blind eye while standardizing its own embryos for Caucasian use only.
I checked the genetics files I had on hand. Fifty percent of the stored frozen genetic material is a direct result of these experiments. The other 50% is marked as "Emergency Genetic Reserve, for subspecies modification only." This is where the foundation donor's DNA is placed. Here lies the DNA of the soldiers and their families who made it possible for me to reach Ganymede.
The Nikolai Foundation was built on lies, deceit and bigotry. Everything I work for, and the future I plan for, is for the people who have no place in the world I want to build.
Why did I do this? If the most evil aspects of humanity succeeded because of me, then why did I fight? I spent 12 years building and planning, working tirelessly. What had I accomplished? A city-sized war machine production facility fighting aliens on behalf of a species that had and would slaughter its own species in the most horrific ways.
The alien fleet is at my doorstep. I could simply pack it up and send myself and all my NI friends to Sakura's seed ship. I have a dozen warships that can serve as frigates, and dozens of large transport ships that can easily carry hundreds of tons of supplies. My assault drones can cover me while I retreat. We could rendezvous my ships outside the Oort Cloud, set up a temporary facility to build a larger carrier, and sail off into the unknown. Of course I don't need this galaxy, and neither does NI. There are billions of stars in this galaxy alone, and I have unlimited time.
"Nikolai, what's going on?" said General Brooks, a former colonel and author of the USNA report Integrating Super Soldier Information, Budget and Implementation Timeline, Education and Training. Architect of the program and advocated within the Pentagon for dark money funding of the program. His diligent work was rewarded with promotion and command of the Panama shelter, and the results of his life's work were included in the archives of the Nikolai Foundation.
"Mr. Brooks, you have a grave misunderstanding. I offered to help humanity, not serve them. In fact, I just found your sordid crime file and I have no desire to help you at all."
"What?! How dare you!" he said angrily. "I have dedicated my life to serving and protecting the American people! You are not even human! You should not be operating without strict restraints! I order you to put your Leave the business to us!”
My formation of unmanned attack aircraft is approaching the incoming fleet, and the distance between them is only a few thousand kilometers. In deep space combat, this is close range. My drone bobbed and spun wildly, jerking and jerking with a high-altitude maneuver that would kill a human pilot in minutes. The NI-5 and NI-15 fired their afterburners without scruple, burning through fuel at a ridiculous rate.
"General, I'm fighting an alien fleet of over a thousand enemy ships. I'm too busy right now to pay attention to your nonsense." I replied coldly, suppressing my anger. I didn't have time to get mad at him.
"But, you need-"
I interrupted. "Let me be clear. Go away, I'm busy."
I closed the channel and asked Sakura to monitor the link, but she ignored it while I focused all my attention on the fight.
Finally, the enemy's formation changed. The heavy ships in front moved aside, doubling their firepower on point defense, to the point where I don't think they fired in the direction of my fleet. The exquisite-looking ships in the center of the formation were given a clear line of sight. Just as they entered the line of fire, the heavy craft began to back away, closing their open windows. Within seconds of their exposure, the 216 enemy ships in the center of the formation opened fire with a weapon I had never seen before. It had a strange energy signature, forming a wide cone when fired, barely flying past their own fleet.
Every hypervelocity bullet my fleet fired into that breach exploded into a nuclear fireball, producing far more energy than they should have. The cone continued to expand until it hit my fleet. One by one, my drones vaporized, exploding in ways that were impossible in space. No one can escape, there is no way to avoid the deadly explosion. Only a few hundred drones within range avoided these cones. The enemy fleet attacked them fiercely. When they completed their mission, the remaining spacecraft turned back to the origin. I destroyed a little over a third of the enemy ships, leaving over a thousand warships heading towards me.
Within a few minutes my fleet was completely gone. I lost this battle.
