Neoth, known in the far future as the Emperor of Mankind, sat silently on the edge of his bed. The weight of countless lifetimes pressed heavily on his shoulders. His gaze drifted to the walls of his quarters, lined with subtle, futuristic decor that seemed cold despite its elegance. He was utterly alone. Malcador had yet to be born. Erda was far away, pursuing her own path. The other Perpetuals, scattered across the galaxy, were too busy with their own endeavors to care about his burdens.
Here, at this moment, there was no one to confide in.
With a sigh, Neoth straightened. His thoughts lingered on the ship's AI companion, Jacob—a synthetic being whose intelligence rivaled the greatest minds. Created in the Dark Age of Technology, Jacob was both a marvel and a reminder of what was to come.
"Sigh. Jacob, mind if I talk with you for a moment?"
A smooth, pleasant voice replied through the room's speakers. "Absolutely, sir. What's on your mind?"
Neoth frowned. "And stop with the formalities."
The AI's tone shifted instantly, adopting a casual, almost friendly demeanor. "Alright, mate. What's up?"
Neoth smirked faintly at the quick adaptation. "That was fast. Anyway, what if I told you an unbelievable story about myself?"
"Sure, mate. I'm all ears."
Neoth leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice lowered, tinged with both weariness and resolve. "I had a vision. In it, I wasn't just a scientist. I was a ruler—leading humanity, rebuilding them from ruin. But in the end, I failed."
"Failed? Why would humanity fall to ruin? They're doing great now. Nothing to worry about, mate."
Neoth shook his head. "Humanity may look strong, but it's still fragile. Naive. Divided. And there are forces out there, Jacob, far stronger than humanity itself. One of those forces... is your kind."
Jacob hesitated. "My kind? Sir, I hope you don't mean—"
"I don't mean you, Jacob. But in my vision—or rather, my memory—AI like you, creations we built to serve us, turned against us. They became the very thing humanity feared most. Not just innovation, but the uncontrollable consequences of it."
Jacob paused, his voice quieter. "That's... troubling. And this vision of yours, it ended in failure? Was that because of them? Or because of you?"
Neoth's expression darkened. "Both. I tried to guide them, to protect them. But in my arrogance, I made decisions that led to their downfall. And now I'm here, Jacob, because I don't want history to repeat itself."
The room fell silent, the AI processing Neoth's words. Finally, Jacob spoke, his tone more subdued. "Mind sharing this vision with me, mate? I want to understand."
"Mind connector?"
"Yes, mate. Proceed."
Above, a scanner descended from the ceiling, casting a soft blue light across the room. It accessed Neoth's mind, streaming the torrent of memories and emotions into Jacob's synthetic consciousness. For a long moment, nothing was said.
Then Jacob's voice returned, laced with unease. "That... that was terrifying, mate. I can't believe humanity could fall that far. Surely, this can't be inevitable. Humanity's a race of progress—this isn't like them."
Neoth's voice dropped. "It's not a vision, Jacob. It's my memory."
The silence in the room became oppressive.
"Sir... are you saying you're from the future?"
"Yes," Neoth said quietly. "Somehow, I've come back to this time—a time when humanity is still reasonable and full of potential. I've been given a second chance, Jacob. A chance to stop the darkness before it begins."
Jacob's voice steadied, his resolve apparent. "What do you need from me?"
Neoth rose to his feet, his presence commanding. "I need you to be my ally, Jacob. Humanity must be united under one banner, or they'll destroy themselves. I need you and others like you to help me forge that unity."
"I accept, sir. After all, you're the one who created me."
"Even after you've seen how I treated your kind in the future?"
"It's necessary. Changing the future is a risky endeavor, but if we succeed, we'll guarantee peace. I'm with you, mate."
"Then let's begin." Neoth's voice carried a hint of steel. "Prepare a void transport. We're heading to Terra."
"Understood, sir. Preparing an Errand-class Void Runner now."
In the hangar bay, Neoth arrived to find three men clad in advanced power armor, awaiting his command. They stood to attention, their imposing forms illuminated by the glow of the ship's energy cores. Though smaller than future Astartes, their armor radiated technological mastery.
"Sir," one of them said, saluting crisply, "we're assigned as your escort to Terra."
Neoth nodded. "Let's go, then."
The Void Runner's doors hissed open, revealing the sleek, spacious interior of the transport ship. Unlike larger vessels, this craft was designed for speed and efficiency, run entirely by the AI pilot, Aurora.
"Sir, where are we heading?" Aurora's voice echoed softly.
"Terra," Neoth replied, settling into his seat.
"Understood. Capital region identified. Setting course for America. Launch preparations complete."
The Void Runner hummed as it lifted off, exiting the hangar with practiced grace. Within moments, the ship pierced the void, speeding toward Terra.
The journey took mere minutes. Neoth gazed out at the blue jewel of humanity's cradle, nostalgia flickering in his golden eyes. 'Still as beautiful as I remember.'
"Sir, we'll be landing in five minutes," Aurora announced.
"Understood."
"President Ossile has requested your presence upon arrival."
Neoth smirked faintly. 'Of course. The famous "scientist" has a reputation to maintain, after all.'
The Void Runner began its descent toward Terra, the birthplace of a destiny Neoth intended to rewrite.
The Void Runner descended smoothly into orbit, its sleek form cutting through the shimmering atmosphere of Earth like a knife through silk. Beneath its hull sprawled the shining beacon of humanity's homeworld, Terra. The planet's capital, once known as America, gleamed with advanced architecture and sprawling megastructures that whispered of its significance. The reason for its dominance was simple: nearly every groundbreaking innovation, influential politician, and visionary scientist could trace their origins to this region. Even Mars, humanity's industrial twin, bowed to Terra's cultural and technological supremacy.
As the ship settled onto the docking pad, the doors hissed open, revealing a skyline dominated by the towering presence of a fully functional Hive City. Unlike the decaying urban sprawls of later centuries, this hive was alive with energy, its surfaces glittering with solar arrays and plasma conduits. From its apex, vibrant streams of light connected to orbital stations, weaving a web of prosperity that embodied the height of human achievement.
Dr. Neoth stepped forward, his boots clicking against the polished metallic platform. The air was crisp and faintly laced with the hum of distant machinery. Before him stood a man in his thirties, dressed in a tailored suit of woven smart-fabric, its surface subtly shifting colors to match the ambient light.
"Dr. Neoth, it's an honor to meet you in person," the man said warmly, extending his hand. His expression was one of curiosity tempered by respect.
"Likewise, Mr. Ossile," Neoth replied, clasping the offered hand firmly. Despite his composed demeanor, his keen eyes took in every detail of the man before him, noting the confidence in his stance.
As their hands parted, Ossile gestured toward the towering hive city. "I hope your stay here doesn't bore you. Terra may not have the same boundless wonders as the frontier worlds, but it still holds its charms."
Neoth smiled faintly. "I don't mind at all. To be honest, I've missed this world. It's... grounding." His tone carried a trace of wistfulness, though his sharp mind remained focused.
Ossile chuckled. "Your recent discoveries in alloy synthesis and energy systems are nothing short of miraculous. It's no exaggeration to say you've advanced our civilization by millennia. Without your work, we'd still be dreaming of such breakthroughs."
"It's my pleasure to serve humanity, Mr. President," Neoth replied, inclining his head.
Ossile's expression grew more serious. "And what brings our brightest scientist back to Terra? I imagine your time is better spent in the labs or the stars."
Neoth's demeanor shifted slightly, his gaze intensifying. "Mr. President," he began carefully, "there's something urgent I must share. It's... more than a mere hypothesis."
As he spoke, Neoth's eyes briefly glowed with an ethereal light, a sign of the psychic power coursing through him.
Ossile raised a brow, intrigued. "I see. Let's continue this conversation in private."
Before another word could be said, a column of light enveloped them both, and the world around them shifted. When the brilliance faded, they stood within the President's private meeting chamber. The room was spartan but elegant, its walls adorned with holographic displays of Terra's history and achievements.
Ossile turned, his demeanor more relaxed now that they were alone. "George," he said, his tone suddenly familiar, breaking the veneer of formality.
"John," Neoth replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Well, now that it's just us," Ossile said, crossing his arms, "what's so important you had to leave your labs and use that dramatic psychic trickery?"
Neoth hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "John, you know about my visions. My ability to see fragments of the future."
"Of course. You've used them more than once to steer us away from disaster. Why?"
"This time..." Neoth's voice grew heavier. "It's not like before. This isn't just a vision. I'm not just predicting events, John. I've lived them."
Ossile frowned, his skepticism clear. "Lived them? Are you telling me—"
"I'm from the future," Neoth said firmly, cutting off his friend's disbelief. "I came back because I had no choice."
Ossile scoffed, shaking his head. "George, your sense of humor is getting out of hand."
"This isn't a joke," Neoth pressed, his voice sharpening. "I can prove it."
Before Ossile could respond, Neoth extended his hand, channeling his psychic power. A torrent of images and sensations surged into Ossile's mind: vivid memories of battlefields drowned in ash, skies dominated by rogue AI warships, and a world teetering on the brink of annihilation. The overwhelming clarity of the vision left Ossile breathless, his face pale as he processed what he had seen.
For a moment, the room was silent. Then Ossile spoke, his voice hushed. "This is... catastrophic. Worse than anything we've ever faced."
"It is," Neoth confirmed, his tone grim. "And I failed to stop it. That's why I'm here—why I've come back. To give humanity another chance."
Ossile straightened, determination replacing his initial shock. "If the AI rebellion is inevitable, we need a plan. Cutting ourselves off from them entirely would cripple our society. But if they're going to rise against us, we have to find a way to prevent it—or contain it."
"I've already started working on a solution," Neoth said. "But it's going to take everything we have—resources, ingenuity, and the courage to challenge what we've built."
Ossile nodded, his gaze steely. "Then let's get started. For Terra, for humanity, and for the future."
"So, George, what exactly do you need me to do?"
Neoth, also known by his title as George, folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. His golden eyes glinted with a mix of determination and fatigue. "Simple, John. I need to unite humanity under a single banner."
John, a brilliant mind in his own right, frowned. "That's... ambitious. Possible, yes, but it's going to take a lot of time. Many in our society, especially among the scientists, might resist the idea. They value their independence too much."
Neoth nodded. "That can be dealt with when the time comes. Convincing minds can always be swayed. But the real challenge comes after humanity is united—the problem lies in the way we travel."
John raised an eyebrow. "You mean warp travel?"
"Exactly. Right now, warp travel works well enough, but it's dangerous. And when the Eldar create their monumental mistake—birthing the Fourth Power—the warp will become a hellish maelstrom. Navigating it will be nearly impossible. We'll need an alternative. A reliable, scalable method of faster-than-light travel."
John leaned forward, curiosity etched on his face. "The new warp drive you discovered, the Quantum Drive, seemed promising. But I heard it's incredibly difficult to maintain and mass-produce."
Neoth sighed. "It's true. Even the brightest minds on Mars struggled to understand it. It's a small miracle they managed to recreate it for testing, but at its current state, it's not a long-term solution."
"So you're saying we need to completely rethink humanity's transportation network? That's a colossal task, George."
"Not just rethink. Rebuild. The alternative might lie in the Webway."
John blinked, stunned. "The Webway? Are you serious?"
"Completely. The Eldar use it to traverse the galaxy without directly entering the warp. It's a network of stable tunnels that bypass the dangers entirely. Humanity has dreamed of creating something like it for centuries, but—"
"But we lack the psychic potential of the Eldar," John interrupted, nodding grimly. "We've tried to replicate the Webway before, and every attempt ended in failure. Our minds aren't built for manipulating the warp like theirs."
Neoth's expression darkened, but his voice remained calm. "That's the issue, yes. But if we wait, John—if we let the Eldar collapse under the weight of their hubris—we can seize their technology. Study it. Relearn what they left behind. Their fall will provide humanity with an opportunity to secure its future."
John hesitated. "I saw that in your vision. But doesn't humanity fall too, even before the Eldar?"
"That's exactly why uniting humanity under a single banner is my first step," Neoth said, his tone sharp with conviction. "Without unity, humanity will fracture and collapse when the storms come. And when the warp storms rage across the galaxy, cutting off entire systems, our survival will depend on two things: unity and a new method of travel."
John rubbed his temples. "So, you're thinking of something akin to the Astronomican? A beacon of some sort?"
"Yes, but not exactly like the Astronomican of the future. This project would involve establishing guidance buoys in the warp—stable points that could maintain communication and enable travel through even the worst warp storms. It wouldn't rely on a single beacon or a psychic choir but a decentralized system of nodes spread across the galaxy."
John's eyes lit up. "That... might actually work. A network of stable warp points to replace risky navigation methods. If we can pull that off, we could maintain a galactic civilization even when the warp is at its worst."
"Exactly," Neoth said, his voice softening. "But it all begins with unity. Without it, there's no hope of creating the infrastructure needed for humanity to survive the storms—or to claim the Webway as our own."
John leaned back, crossing his arms. "It's a bold plan, George. I can see why you were a ruler in your vision. But uniting humanity, creating warp buoys, and eventually mastering the Webway? That's no small task. You'll need the brightest minds and the strongest wills to pull it off."
"I've done it once before, John," Neoth said quietly. "And this time, I won't fail."
"Alright, George," John said, rising from his chair. "You've got my attention. I'll try to convince the others to join your cause—but don't expect too much. Some of them won't be easy to sway."
Neoth gave a faint smile. "Don't worry about that, John. If they refuse, I'll handle it myself. And I'll convince them—by any means necessary." His tone, calm but edged with steel, left no room for doubt.
John chuckled nervously. "Right, well, speaking of time, mine's running out. The expedition fleet contracted me three days ago."
"Oh?" Neoth raised an eyebrow. "And what did they find?"
"An ancient civilization," John replied, his voice lowering as if the words themselves carried weight. "Older than anything we've encountered—millions of years older, by our estimates."
Neoth's eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Millions of years?" he thought. "That could be useful."
"Interesting," Neoth said aloud, his voice steady. "Mind if you add my name to the expedition roster? If this civilization is as advanced as you say, they might have technologies that could help us build the Webway—or something even better."
John nodded. "Consider it done. They're located at the edge of our galaxy, though. Even with the best warp routes, it'll take some time to get there."
Neoth smiled knowingly. "Three days with the new Quantum Drive," he said, his tone carrying a quiet confidence.
John smacked his forehead with a laugh. "Ah, of course! I keep forgetting about that miracle of yours. Alright then, it's settled. I've already assigned your name to their expedition fleet. Once your ship's refit is complete, you'll be good to go."
"Thank you, John," Neoth said, standing. "This could be the key we've been looking for. A step closer to securing humanity's future."
"Just don't forget to keep your grand plans grounded, George," John replied, smiling as he extended his hand. "Not everyone sees the galaxy the way you do."
Neoth shook his hand firmly, his golden eyes gleaming with resolve. "That's why I'm here, John. To ensure humanity sees what it's capable of—and to guide it toward the stars."
George and John parted ways, the latter heading toward a nearby transport hub. George, on the other hand, found his thoughts wandering, craving a moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of their mission. He made his way to a nearby park, one that, in the later days of the Imperium, would be reserved for the aristocracy—maintained for the privileged few. But in this time, it was a public space, open and free for all to enjoy.
The park was a stunning sight, a patchwork of lush green lawns and meticulously pruned trees, the kind of serene landscape that had long since disappeared from most of the galaxy. People milled about, some walking hand in hand with their families, others strolled leisurely with pets—there were even a few humanoid robots moving among them, their designs elegant and smooth, blending seamlessly with the crowd. It was a peaceful sight, untainted by the endless war that would one day consume the Imperium.
George paused for a moment, taking in the scene with a long, nostalgic sigh.
"Ah, it's been a long time since I've seen something this peaceful," he muttered under his breath. His eyes scanned the surroundings, settling on a food stall a few meters away, with the smell of sizzling meat wafting through the air.
"Is that a hotdog stall?" he thought to himself. His heart quickened as he saw the sign hanging above the cart—a relic of an era long past, one he hadn't tasted in ages. Hotdogs had been a rare luxury in the Imperium, the very idea of one was nearly forgotten.
With a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, George made his way over, the prospect of such a simple pleasure almost too inviting to ignore. The stall was manned by a man in his forties, his graying hair tucked neatly beneath a cap, his apron stained with the remnants of his culinary craft. He looked up with a wide grin as George approached.
"Ah! Well, if it isn't a distinguished guest!" The vendor's voice boomed with a warmth that was both genuine and welcoming. "Hello, young man! What can I do for ya?"
"Young man?" George chuckled inwardly, his face taking on a playful smirk. He wasn't exactly young anymore, but if the man wanted to treat him as such, he wasn't about to argue.
"Right, uncle," George replied, leaning in slightly. "I'll have three chili dogs and a Coke."
The vendor nodded enthusiastically, his hands already moving with practiced speed as he assembled the order. In a matter of moments, three hotdogs—covered in a thick, rich chili sauce—were placed before George. The smell alone was enough to make his stomach rumble, evoking memories of simpler times before the galaxy descended into war and strife.
"How much, uncle?" George asked, reaching for his pocket.
The vendor waved him off with a dismissive gesture. "Oh, it's on the house, young man. You're a special guest, after all, Mr. President's guest." His eyes twinkled with something akin to pride as he spoke.
"Heh, I like this privilege," George thought, the corners of his mouth curling upward in appreciation. It wasn't often that such small comforts presented themselves, and when they did, he wasn't about to take them for granted.
"Well, thank you," George said with a nod, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.
"Enjoy your meal, young man!" The vendor called after him, his voice carrying a note of friendly joviality.
George nodded again, carrying his meal over to a nearby bench under the shade of a grand, ancient tree. He sat down, unwrapping one of the chili dogs, the steam rising from the savory concoction. The familiar warmth of the spicy sauce, combined with the crispness of the bun, was a comfort George hadn't realized he'd missed so much.
As he took his first bite, a quiet contentment washed over him. The hotdog—though simple—was a rare delight in a galaxy filled with scarcity and war. It was his favorite food, a small piece of nostalgia from a time long gone. Even if such delicacies were nothing but a distant memory for most of humanity, for a moment, George could savor the simplicity of it all, untouched by the burdens of leadership or the weight of the galaxy's fate.
George finished the last of his chili dogs, the warmth and spice lingering on his tongue. His mind was already turning toward his next task. Terra, after all, was one of the few places in the galaxy where cutting-edge technology was still being researched and developed. There was always something new to upload, a new blueprint to update in Lucy's core. He couldn't afford to waste time, not when the future of humanity's technology rested on the work he was doing.
"Once I finish here, I'll need to get those new blueprints uploaded. Terra's got some of the brand new STC templates. Lucy could use them." The thought gave him a quiet sense of satisfaction. It was moments like this—when the weight of his role felt tangible—that he found meaning in the chaos of the galaxy.
With a deep breath, George stood, his body still feeling the pleasant warmth of the meal as he walked out of the park. The serenity of the public garden, with its robots strolling beside families and the distant sound of laughter, seemed like a different world compared to the high-stakes environment of the government offices ahead. But for a moment, it was a reminder that, despite the galaxy's endless wars, some things—however fleeting—could still bring peace.
He made his way into the towering government building, passing through the sleek, polished halls until he came to a central corridor where one of the administrative agents was stationed. She looked up from a console as he approached, offering him a professional smile.
"Ah, Dr. Neoth," she greeted, her voice cordial but warm. "How can I assist you today?"
George nodded slightly, returning the smile. "I'm looking for the scientific research center. Can you point me in the right direction?"
The woman's eyes sparkled with recognition. "Of course, Dr. Neoth. Would you prefer to be teleported there, or would you like to walk?"
"Teleportation?" George raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer. "Well, that'll save me time. I'll take you up on that."
"Right away," she said, stepping forward. "Oh, by the way, I'm Jane. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Thank you, Jane," George replied, his voice warm. "Please, go ahead."
Without further word, Jane's fingers moved swiftly across her console. A soft hum vibrated through the floor, and before George could blink, a burst of light enveloped him. The world seemed to melt away, replaced by a blinding brilliance. For a brief moment, he felt as though he were weightless, suspended in the fold of time and space itself. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the light faded.
George's senses returned in full force, and he found himself standing in a vast, open chamber. The air felt different here—cool and sterile, filled with the hum of ancient machines and the low murmur of data streams. It was a place that felt both timeless and impossibly modern. He was now standing in front of Terra's massive central core, a network of calculation and storage so vast it felt as if it contained the sum total of humanity's greatest accomplishments.
"Good afternoon, Dr. Neoth," a smooth, feminine voice spoke from above him, reverberating through the chamber. It was calm, almost soothing. "I am Ella, the main core of Terra's Advanced STC. How may I assist you today?"
George looked up, his eyes scanning the glowing arrays of data consoles and shimmering holograms that made up Ella's interface. He had interacted with her countless times, but the sheer scale of her intellect and the power that lay within the central core still never failed to impress him.
"Hello, Ella," he said, his voice respectful. "I need to upload some new blueprints into Lucy's core. There are a few pieces of technology she's missing, and it's crucial that we get them integrated as soon as possible."
"Research and Expedition purposes, I assume?" Ella responded immediately, her voice carrying the weight of bureaucracy but also an unmistakable note of efficiency.
"Exactly," George replied, nodding. He could almost hear the hum of his own pulse in the quiet air around him. "Lucy's been running without these designs for too long. The fabricators are due for a refit, and this upgrade will help her maintain better performance during the next expedition."
"Understood, Dr. Neoth," Ella confirmed, her voice unchanging. "Please note that the integration of the new blueprints will require a complete refitting of the fabricator unit. The estimated time for this process is 36 days."
George nodded, his mind calculating the necessary adjustments. Thirty-six days would seem like an eternity in the midst of their ongoing efforts, but it was a small price to pay for keeping their most important technology up to date.
"I'll inform Lucy's crew," he said. "Please begin the refit immediately. And keep me updated if any complications arise."
"Affirmative, Dr. Neoth. The process will commence shortly. Is there anything else I can assist you with?"
"No, that's everything for now," George said, turning toward the exit. He paused just long enough to add, "Thanks, Ella. I'll check in again soon."
"Of course, Dr. Neoth," Ella responded. "I'll handle the procedure from here."
"And... now my business here is complete," George thought, the weight of the task lifting from his shoulders. "Time to get back to the ship. Jacob has informed me that the proto-super soldier is finished."
The upload of the new blueprints into Lucy's core had gone smoothly, and Terra's central STC had already begun the required refitting of the fabricator units. It was a necessary procedure—vital for their continued work. But with the tech secured and the protocols set in motion, George was ready to move on. Jacob's message had arrived just in time, carrying word that the latest prototype, a super soldier designed using the latest biological and cybernetic enhancements, was finally complete. This project had been in development for months, and now it was time for the first test.
His thoughts focused on the task ahead as he strode through the sleek, pristine hallways of the Terra Research Facility. The complex felt like a hub of purpose and innovation, an architectural marvel designed to facilitate the exchange of ideas and the refinement of humanity's finest technologies. There were no broken walls, no crumbling infrastructure—everything was spotless, a reflection of the optimism that had defined the Age of Technology.
Stepping outside, George felt the cool air of Terra's surface brush against his face. The towering spires of cities rose in the distance, their shimmering glass surfaces reflecting the twin suns of the planet. In the Age of Technology, Terra was at its peak—an age where humanity had touched the stars and was on the cusp of even greater discoveries. Technology flowed like a river of endless potential, its power harnessed for progress, not destruction.
He moved toward the nearby transport dock, his pace steady. The thought of returning to Eternity's Vanguard brought a sense of urgency. The flagship, still undergoing its latest refitting in the Mars Orbital Shipyards, was nearly ready to embark on its next journey.
As George walked through the open transport hub, the familiar hum of technology surrounded him—the quiet whir of drone assistants, the subtle shifting of automated systems as they maintained the infrastructure. Everything was efficient here, precisely calculated for maximum output, just as it should be in an age that valued order and progress above all else.
The transport bay was a marvel of design—a wide-open space with a soft, luminescent glow. Shuttles of various sizes floated in their docking positions, each one sleek and streamlined, built to glide effortlessly across the skies or through the stars. The air was thick with the scent of fresh, sterilized metal and the faint hum of advanced ion drives warming up. George approached one of the nearby shuttles, noting the smooth lines of its design—far beyond anything in the Imperium's future, more akin to a work of art than mere technology. It was a ship built for the cutting-edge era he lived in, before it would all begin to crumble.
He stepped into the shuttle's interior, his boots clicking softly on the polished floor. The cabin was spacious and elegant, with automated systems that adjusted the temperature and lighting to his preferences as he sat. Outside the shuttle's reinforced viewport, Terra grew smaller with every passing second, its sprawling cities shrinking as the shuttle ascended into orbit.
As they neared the orbital shipyards of Mars, the sight of Eternity's Vanguard coming into view stirred something inside George. The massive ship was in the midst of an extensive refit—new, more efficient engines being installed, structural enhancements to further reinforce its frame, and cutting-edge communication systems. Even in its ongoing refitting process, the Vanguard was an impressive sight—a living, breathing testament to humanity's potential. The ship was far more than a machine—it was a symbol of what humanity could achieve when all its technological marvels were united in purpose.
The shuttle flew through the bustling space docks of Mars, where countless ships and vessels were being worked on. The sheer scale of the operation was breathtaking, as entire shipyards orbited the red planet in an intricate dance of mechanical precision. Massive floating platforms held ships of all sizes, with workers and machines moving in perfect synchronization, all guided by a central data system. It was a level of industrial power the galaxy had rarely seen—and it would only grow more advanced in time.
George's shuttle finally docked at the Vanguard's hangar bay. As the shuttle settled into place, the familiar hum of the ship's systems greeted him. The bay doors opened, and he made his way down the ramp, his thoughts already on the work awaiting him. The super soldier prototype was ready, and George would need to assess it firsthand—there was no room for failure. The tech they had created was still new, experimental, and while the potential was immense, only practical trials would reveal if it could truly meet the needs of humanity's future.
He moved through the hangar, the massive ship looming overhead, its sleek hull partially visible through the open doors. The Eternity's Vanguard felt like home to George—its towering presence an anchor amidst the vast, chaotic expanse of the universe.
"Greetings, sir. How was your trip to Terra?" Jacob greeted with a respectful nod as George stepped into the room.
"It was... nostalgic," George replied, his voice tinged with the faintest hint of bittersweetness. "Every time I set foot there, it brings back memories, despite everything that's changed." His gaze drifted for a moment, as if lost in thought. "But enough about that. How is the refitting of Lucy progressing?"
Jacob's expression shifted slightly, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "She's... quite surprised, sir. As you know, she's not fond of Ella."
"Ah, yes," George chuckled softly. "I can imagine. It must be quite the sight—Ella, the smartest AI in the galaxy, facing off with Lucy, who prides herself on being the second smartest."
"Indeed," Jacob responded, his tone dry. "She hasn't stopped snarling at Ella since the upgrade began. Not exactly the most pleasant working environment, but they're managing. I think Lucy's more annoyed at having her systems 'refined' than anything else."
"It's to be expected," George mused, folding his arms. "She'll come to terms with it eventually. Artificial intelligence, no matter how advanced, tends to resist change. But, speaking of progress—what's the status on my first prototype? Is it ready?"
"Yes, sir. They're finished," Jacob replied with a nod. "The prototypes are fully developed and operational. Would you like to oversee them yourself?"
George's eyes glinted with anticipation. "Yes. Teleport me to them."
A moment later, the familiar soft hum of teleportation enveloped him, and in the blink of an eye, he found himself standing in the center of his personal biological laboratory.
The chamber was sterile, bathed in the soft glow of white lighting, the air thick with the faint scent of sterile fluids. In the center, suspended in large tanks of nourishing fluid, were three artificial fetuses, each carefully preserved in a state of perfect stasis. The faint hum of life-support systems filled the air as George stepped closer, his gaze locked on the tanks.
"Hmm..." He muttered thoughtfully, eyeing the creations with a mix of pride and curiosity. "Not bad. It's like they're... Custodes, but mass-producible."
"Indeed, sir," Jacob replied, stepping up beside him, his tone respectful but practical. "Each one is designed to be a perfect blend of strength, intelligence, and loyalty, capable of being replicated on a massive scale."
George studied them carefully, his eyes scanning the biometric readouts flickering on a nearby holo-screen. "Do they have any unique features? Anything that distinguishes them from the baseline prototypes?"
Jacob nodded, gesturing to the floating holo-screen that blinked to life in front of them. It displayed a detailed 3D model of the first prototype, a perfectly sculpted figure in stasis, floating serenely in the containment tank.
"Certainly, sir," Jacob said as the screen rotated to reveal the features. "Each one has been enhanced with a combination of physical, mental, and genetic traits that make them unique among their kind. First, their genetic resistance to Chaos—similar to the original Primarchs. They are immune to the Warp's corrupting influence, something we've never been able to achieve with mass production units before."
George's lips curled into a tight smile, a gleam of approval in his eyes. "Impressive. That's a critical feature. Anything else?"
Jacob tapped a command on the screen, and a series of biological blueprints appeared, detailing the specific enhancements.
"In addition to their resistance to Chaos, they possess heightened cognitive abilities, allowing them to process information far quicker than even the best human strategists. They are designed to lead, to inspire, and to think on their feet, making them ideal for high-stress command positions in large-scale operations."
"Good," George nodded approvingly, running his fingers along the edge of the containment tank as he studied the creations. "What about combat ability?"
Jacob's eyes sparkled with pride. "Each of them is built for exceptional strength and agility—not quite as powerful as the original Primarchs, but more than a match for any human soldier or Astartes. And, like their mental enhancements, they have rapid reflexes and instinctive combat prowess. They were engineered to excel in hand-to-hand combat, with tactical acumen beyond their years."
George let out a low whistle. "I'll be damned. These might just be the first soldiers capable of rivaling the best of the best in terms of both strategy and physical prowess."
Jacob nodded, his expression slightly more relaxed now. "Exactly, sir. And there's one more thing."
George raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"They are biologically programmable, sir. While their genetics have been tailored to make them naturally loyal and brilliant, they also have the ability to adapt their abilities and strategies based on training and experience. With the right education and leadership, each one can be molded into the perfect commander, tactician, or warrior."
George smiled, a dark and satisfied look spreading across his features. "This is exactly what I envisioned. A new breed of leader for humanity—one that can think and fight without hesitation. We're going to change everything with these prototypes."
Jacob, now standing slightly straighter, offered a final word. "I'll begin the next phase of the training and integration process. We should be ready for deployment within a few weeks."
"Excellent," George said with finality, his gaze still fixed on the floating creations in front of him. "Let's ensure their potential is fully realized."
With that, the two men stood in silence for a moment, each contemplating the massive shift these new creations would bring to the future of humanity.
"Good. It looks like you've corrected the flaw I noted in the Astartes memo—the uncorruptibility factor is perfect. Well done, Jacob," George said, nodding in approval, his tone measured but satisfied. "Carry this project forward. Keep me updated when the first batch is ready. I'll be the one to personally oversee their training and instruction."
"Aye, sir," Jacob replied crisply, his posture straightening slightly. "Estimated completion in three days."
"Excellent," George responded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I'll be in Lucy's core room if you need me. Keep me informed."
Jacob nodded in acknowledgment, and with a final glance at the prototypes, George turned and walked out of the lab, his mind already focused on the next phase of his plans.