"Some empires in the galaxy think we're nothing but bloodthirsty monsters. I mean, it's true, but we're disciplined bloodthirsty monsters." - Imperator Adrian Yang XIV


Beta Hydri III observation post, high planetary orbit, Beta Hydri system, 12/04/2420

Lead Researcher David Xi walked through the halls of the observation post with his hands clasped behind his back. The sterile white halls gave him a calming sensation as he made his way towards the bridge. He'd only been here for a week and a half but was already becoming familiar with the space station like the back of his hand. Although the time on the observation post is the equivalent of midnight on Earth, no one has the time to or wants to rest as there was stuff that still needed to be hauled to storage areas, sensors and other devices to activate and calibrate, and maintenance to perform. The post had only been repopulated two Earth weeks and no one had expected it to survive the nexus storm that rolled into the system seven years ago but to everyone's surprise, it did, although it suffered serious damage and around two-thirds of it had no atmosphere. A quick repair job later and it was ready to begin housing the scientists that made up its crew. His thoughts wandered to other observation posts orbiting other worlds that had pre-FTL civilizations on them, how most of them became embassies between the unsophisticated on the ground and their more advanced watchers in the skies or how they were dismantled when the civilization below nuked themselves into oblivion.

He sighed as he went, reminiscing on how... hands-on other observation teams were; requesting outlandish requests like giving a medieval-age civilization nuclear weapons, or an industrial-age civilization cybernetics. David swore that they would only do the bare minimum - periodic abductions and subtle guidance - not a single thing more, such a prime opportunity must not be wasted. The lead researcher could feel the hum of the station's power core in his body due to the nanites that made up the station and infused into his body harmonized with each other, a gentle fuzzy feeling that made him feel good inside. The molecular machines were a turning point for mankind, allowing previously impossible tasks and projects to be completed overnight. Cancer became a thing of the past, massive buildings went up in a fraction of the time it usually took, and - most importantly - false and cowardly notions like "faith" and "gods" were dumped for the correct and true beliefs of secularism, rationalism and empirical evidence. He sighed and rubbed his white lab coat, his hands tracing the two black and red lines that ran down both sides of his body and the one that ran across, the synthread feeling all too familiar, like it was a part of him. It wasn't, obviously, but with how much time he spent wearing it, it almost felt like an extension of his body.

The lead researcher went to the station's bridge, and the doors slid open automatically for him. Despite the late hour, it was still a hive of activity with various scientists either at their posts or walking to their posts. It was surprisingly quiet other than the noise of footsteps, due to no one having time for small talk. David walked up to his second-in-command, a woman named Annabelle Conners, who was holding a tablet in her hand.

"Annabelle," he greeted, causing the assistant researcher to jump a little. "Surprised to see you up so late."

"David, for the love of the stars, stop scaring me," Annabelle said with her hand over her chest. "And yeah, surprised to see you up so late too."

The lead researcher chuckled. "I couldn't sleep, the anticipation of a new civilization for us to guide... it's irresistible." He looked out the viewport at the planet they were orbiting. "I doubt anyone expected the subjects to survive, especially not a nexus storm rolling over the planet."

"Yeah, their survival rate was calculated at around thirty-five percent." The assistant researcher swiped her tablet. "No one saw how they would make an entire civilization when we were scrambling away from the storm."

"Speaking of which, what did you gather from observing them?"

Annabelle swiped her screen again, bringing up a map of the planet. Four sections of the land were highlighted in red, green, grey, and blue respectively. "Well, all eight test groups have formed their collective nation-states on the surface, with the most advanced one being in the medieval age." She paused. "Well, technically only two groups classify as a proper nation-state, those being the group on the island chain to the west of the main continent," she tapped the red area. "And the one on the center of the main continent." She tapped on the green area. "The other groups are locked in either a nomadic or tribal state and are lacking behind the other two, who are each vying for dominance."

David nodded as he looked at the map, each section pulsing their respective colour. "It's fascinating to see them forming such a cohesive society, especially so soon after the nexus storm."

"One year on Beta Hydri III is roughly four years on Earth, so it's not as short as you might think," The assistant researcher continued as she tapped the red section again. "This is the group we're most interested in. They've had a semi-industrial revolution and are highly militarized, with the largest standing army, navy, and even a primitive air force. Their leadership is best described as an absolute martial empire, where military prowess and fighting skills are highly valued, as you can imagine. The fact that they're on an island chain makes it more impressive as on Earth, island nations were historically more inclined towards peace due to limited resources forcing everyone to work together." She paused for a minute. "They kinda remind me of us, if we were in the medieval era and still locked to Earth."

"Are each group aware of each other? I imagine that communications are primitive at best or nonexistent at worst."

She scoffed. "Oh, they are all well aware of each other. The islanders have made numerous incursions into the mainland, setting up satellite colonies which double as military bases for any potential invasion force. While we've seen no serious annexation attempts yet, their rampant imperialism mixed with the fact that the mainlanders have a much weaker military force in comparison makes one all but guaranteed." Amanda tapped the green portion of the map. "Speaking of which, the nation-state on the mainland is by far the largest in sheer size. Led by an irenic monarchy, its military - while still appropriately large - lacks the advanced technology that the islanders possess. If war were to break out, excluding outside influence, the islanders would have an 86.23% chance of totally annexing the mainland, give or take a 3.4212% margin of error."

David stared intently at the map. "And what of the other groups? Are they in a position to resist?"

"No, not at all," Annabelle sighed as she tapped a blue region, the northern pole of the planet. "The tribal societies are split between the two polar regions and still rely on hunting and fishing to get by. They have a semblance of an armed military, but we think it's mostly ceremonial to reassure their populace that they have a chance." She then tapped a grey region, a mountainous region of the planet. "The nomads are the only society that are totally extinct. Scans show that a massive conflict occurred in the regions where they once inhabited, but whether it was against hostile fauna, another group on the planet, or even themselves in a civil war, we still don't know."

"I remember that some of the subjects were psionic," the lead researcher said, recalling that some of the initial testing population were psionic. "What happened to them? Were they killed off by a superstitious population?"

Annabelle shook her head. "They've been integrated into each community. We're detecting signatures of Applied psions with startling frequency, and they all seem to be elemental manipulators. No signs of telepathy or other abilities have been detected yet." She swiped the tablet. "We've noticed that each region has a mastery over a particular element. For example, the islanders use pyromancers, the mainland is populated with terramancers, the polar tribes use hydromancers, and the nomads used to be all aeromancers."

"Fascinating..." David mumbled.

"Oh, and they also have a master psion, one who's a master of elemental manipulation and able to use all four with equal ease," Annabelle said as he continued to stare at the map. "It's a core aspect of the faith all four groups on the planet share, albeit with some differences."

"Faith..." the lead researcher mumbled, the very word tasting bitter in his mouth. "I take it that the sciences haven't taken root?"

"Unfortunately no, their main faith seems to be centred around this master psion mixed with a bizarre combination of ancestor worship and general spiritualism. A mistake we'll have to correct in time, of course."

"And what about this 'master psion?' What is it, exactly?"

"Well, like I said, it's an individual who has mastered the art of elemental manipulation. That's about as much as we got through observation alone."

"How does a psion even get this powerful? Most elemental manipulators go mad when we try to get them to use all four."

Annabelle tapped the tablet, giving the map an ominous purple haze. "The barrier between the Shroud and realspace is pretty thin," she explained. "Not to the point where Shroud energy is so intense that it interferes with reality so much that it changes the surroundings but still weak enough for psions to get a major power boost without having to dive too deep and go mad. They've even based their faith around it, believing that the Shroud is a place where their ancestors go to when they perish." She looked at her superior. "Honestly, they're not quite that far off."

David scoffed. "They're dealing with forces far beyond their comprehension. They think they're talking to their 'ancestors' but they might just be engaging with one or multiple Shroud entities who are using their memories as a method to lower their guard only to exploit them in the future," he said as he walked towards the viewport. "Do we have an identity of this master psion?"

"That's the problem," the assistant researcher said, sighing. The current master psion is twelve years old."

"...I'm sorry, the master psion is currently a what?"

"The current master psion is a twelve-year-old. It's as ridiculous as it sounds."

The lead researcher sighed. "Well, we're going to have to kill them, for their sakes and the rest of the world's. No one, especially not a child, should have that power." He stared out the viewport, his mind deep in thought. "We need to intervene, and soon."

Before either one of them continued further, the doors to the bridge slid open, causing everyone present to stop and go silent. The pair turned their heads to look and nearly paled at the figure standing in the doorway. Standing there, in all her 8'7" menacing glory, was Princeps Cordelia Yang. She scanned the room, slowly turning her head and seeing all the terrified scientists who had paused midstep at her presence. The princeps then slowly walked towards the pair, her footsteps quiet as if the very concept of sound was afraid of her. Annabelle for her part slowly backed away from the advancing princeps, Cordelia's yellow uniform with black outlines indicating her relation to the Yang Dynasty.

"Y-Your Highness," David got out, too frozen in pure fear to give the appropriate bow when in the presence of royalty. "T-To what do I h-have the honour?"

Cordelia looked down at him, her red irises on black sclera adding to her... inhumanness. "I am aware you are in charge of this observation mission, are you not?" She asked, ignoring his. Her voice had an echoing quality to it as if it came from both everywhere and nowhere.

"C-Correct, Your Highness," the lead researcher stammered out. The princeps's pupils flashed red repeatedly, indicating that she was processing his answer.

"I want a full report of your current findings," she spoke, causing Annabelle to quickly and clumsily swipe on her tablet, an expression of sheer terror on her face. It was almost comical, but the woman looked like she was on the verge of a total breakdown by being in the presence of the princeps. Cordelia then yanked the tablet from her hands, nearly taking her hands with her in the process. Her pupils flashed again as she processed the data, a blank expression on her face as everyone in the vicinity hoped that the princeps wouldn't fly off the handle. Eventually, she tossed the tablet back at the assistant researcher with a flick of her hand, the force so great that it sent her off her feet. "Why haven't you begun abductions yet?" Cordelia asked.

David paled. He hadn't inquired about the status of the testing chambers yet. "I... I do not know, Your Highness, I have only been here for a week-"

"The post was restored two weeks ago," the princeps said as she walked closer to the lead researcher. "You have had more than enough time. Send up your abduction team for inspection."

The lead researcher shakily brought his arm up and tapped on the communicator embedded into his wrist, ordering the abduction team up to the bridge immediately. In the meantime, the princeps looked at Annabelle, who had managed to get back on her feet. "You, have you reviewed this observation post's armaments?"

"We... We have armaments?" She asked back in confusion before noticing Cordelia's expression and quickly swiped on her tablet. To her surprise, the civilian station had various defences - flak batteries, defensive missiles, and... wait... "Y-Your Highness, w-why do we have nuclear warheads?"

The temperature on the bridge decreased a couple of degrees as the princeps processed an answer. "If the civilization on the planet proves too... resistant to our guidance, I assume you will be able to do what is necessary, right, assistant researcher?"

She nodded quickly, her words failing her amid the transhuman. Eventually, the doors to the bridge slid open again and revealed eight figures dressed in Planetary Guard gear that was white with black stripes. "Sir, you wanted to see-" The leader began before they saw the princeps, stopping as quickly. "...Your Highness, you honour us with your presence."

Cordelia didn't respond and walked toward them instead, stopping a few feet away before she looked back at the lead researcher. "Is this your best team?" She asked, her tone dripping with her lack of amusement.

"Y-Yes, Your Highness. They are our best and rest assured that they'll-" David didn't get the chance to finish as the princeps gripped her sword and sliced each member in half, much to the shock of the entire bridge. She then turned around, her expression as blank as ever as she addressed the stunned lead researcher.

"They were inefficient," she began coldly. "I calculated that their rate of success was 59%, outside acceptable margins. Useless." David was too stunned to speak. Annabelle looked like she was about to pass out. "I have seen to it to provide you with a much more superior asset for you to use in your abduction efforts."

"...A-And what would that be, Your Highness?" David asked, finally finding his voice. Cordelia merely waved her hand at a scientist who had a deadpan expression the whole time. The lead researcher recalled seeing them walking through the station but couldn't recall where, thinking that it was just another one of the admittedly expendable researchers stationed here. He then heard the sounds of bones cracking as the "scientist" morphed and changed, growing taller and more gaunt as its arms extended in length, its fingers stretching to half the length of his forearm. The thing - undeniably human but barely - then stood up, its head nearly grazing the ceiling, a series of clicks emanating from its near-skeletal face.

The princeps looked up at the creature with a deadpan expression. "Unit Romeo-12-S, assigning new orders," she began, to which the creature clicked again. "You are to abduct and incapacitate various unsophisticated individuals from the planet below at the discretion of this individual." She gestured at David.

The creature, Romeo-12-J, slowly walked over and looked him up and down before letting out another series of clicks in confirmation. A too-long finger grazed his lab coat, causing him to flinch and 12-J to hiss in response. He looked at the princeps in desperation.

"Calm yourself, Head Researcher. It is merely adding you into its biological database of superiors. The thing couldn't attack you even if it wanted to." She turned to 12-J. "Clean this up," the princeps ordered before walking off, just as the creature leaned down and began to feast on an arm in front of the scientists. A few, including Annabelle, finally fainted and fell to the ground with a thump.


Cordelia walked through the station, the annoyance of having to interact with baseliners grinding away at her patience her by the second. What use were these flawed, fragile creatures? She passed by numerous scientists and other staff, all of whom gave her a bow as she passed by but she paid them no mind. The only thing she found more annoying than baseliners were sycophantic baseliners. Sighing, she continued to think about her meeting with the lead researcher and wondered how her brother, Princeps Charles Yang, dealt with their annoyance and her already high respect for him shot up ten-fold. Unlike herself, Charles expressed much more emotion and could relate much more than her with their subjects but literally couldn't defend himself to save his life. The concept of violence scares him so much that the first time he tried to hold any type of weapon, he collapsed on the floor crying, to which Cordelia immediately embraced him and comforted him - like her duty as the older sibling demanded. She sighed at that - while she loved Charles deeply and would love nothing more than to see him on the throne when their father passed, she often felt regret at his aversion to violence, especially compared to the martial prowess the rest of humanity expressed. She didn't mind how their subjects thought about the prospect of a pacifist running the Technocracy, she would be there to silence all who questioned the status quo, much like her job now.

As she walked, Cordelia turned the corner and spotted her brother with his Punitive Corps escort, his ice-blue eyes staring at her crimson red ones. He wore the same uniform as she did and had similarly black sclera. She noted the various medals pinned over his left breast, smiling at the quaintness of them. They were all civilian-based of course, as he couldn't stand being near a battlefield.

"Sister," Charles began. "Surprised to see you here. What are you doing here?"

His sister shrugged. "You were late. I took it upon myself to fulfill your duties for a change. See how it felt like." She sighed. "I do not like it."

"Cordelia, I-" he began before sighing. "Look, thank you for your effort. Truly, thank you, but you don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."

"In any case, I discovered some inefficient aspects of this station's workforce and dealt with them accordingly."

Charles looked at his sister suspiciously. Usually, when Cordelia said "dealt with" it typically meant "killed." He tilted his head curiously. "Well, thank you again for dealing with that," he said while still looking at his sister. "You wouldn't mind if I talked to them after I've finished my inspection, no?"

She shifted in place, calculating how to best respond so that her brother wouldn't fly into a meltdown. "No, I wouldn't mind," she finally said as Charles softened his gaze.

He sighed again as he thought about his response in turn. This has been their family's dynamic for years now - their father would try his absolute best to care for them, Cordelia would work hard until she lost her temper and killed someone, and Charles was the one to bridge the gap between his sister and the rest of the Technocracy and to accompany his father to diplomatic talks to make sure that he doesn't embarrass himself. The imperator, despite being a genuinely good leader and father, is not without his issues. For one, their father has the personality of a child and all the issues that entail. He was innocent and painfully naive sometimes. Charles thought that it stemmed from the neglect his grandfather showed his father but every time he brought it up, he'd go quiet, reach the verge of tears, and quickly change the subject. He tried to alleviate Charles's burden by helping him, and by the stars did he try, but it was tiring to have to deal with his sister's temperament, his father's personality, and his duties as the head of the Administration Department, but he took it all without complaint.

"Well, in that case, I'll just handle this and see you afterwards, okay?" He finally asked. "At the Golden Arch cafe on Earth, just like old times."

Cordelia gave her brother a rare smile. "I'd like that," she replied. "I'll see you then, little brother." She then made her way to the hangar bay where her shuttle was waiting for her. As soon as she boarded, a staffer handed her a tablet which had various reports flashing across the screen. Fleet movements, security notices, a list of every immigrant entering the Technocracy's borders - all part of her job of as the head of the Imperial Internal Security division. The princeps swiped on each report as the shuttle took off, leaving the observation post and the Beta Hydri system behind.


"You two do know that you both don't need to be so close to me, right?" Charles asked his escorts as he walked through the observation post. "We're in a secure area, no one could harm me here."

"We have our orders, Command Unit Charles Yang," one of the two Punitive Corps soldiers replied, their tone emotionless.

"Prime Commander Unit Adrian Yang dispensed of them himself," replied the other in an equally emotionless tone.

"I know Father's concerned about my safety and all, but doesn't this seem excessive?"

"Negative, Command Unit Charles Yang. This unit and this unit's partner have their orders."

He sighed at that as he continued to walk, passing by various scientists and other staff as he went. Charles couldn't blame his father, ever since the death of the Imperatrix and recent turmoil in the galaxy, he ordered every member of the dynastic family to be monitored constantly for their protection. For Cordelia, this meant no change as she was more than capable of handling herself. For Charles, though? A pair of Punitive Corps soldiers were to escort him whenever he ventured outside the Forbidden City and even when he wandered into a less-used section of it. Although no baseline weapon could ever hope to harm him on account of his nanites, the imperator left nothing to chance, much to his chagrin.

"You two don't genuinely think I'll get killed in the mess hall with a plastic knife, do you?" He asked sarcastically with a slight smile of amusement."

"The odds of an assailant landing a fatal wound with a blunt plastic eating utensil is around 0.00234%," the soldier to his right replied.

Charles sighed again at that. The thing that made the Punitive Corps such effective soldiers also caused them to lack any semblance of humanity. He passed by a scientist deep in their work and pointed out some noteworthy data from a readout, to which they thanked him as they hurriedly recorded the information. He smiled at the sight of the scientist working diligently, knowing that the Imperial Academy for Youth was still producing effective members of the scientific community. Unlike other star empires, he could see the populace for what they truly were - individuals with wants, needs, and hopes and dreams, not just resources to be exploited. Well, they still were resources in a sense, and it would be more appropriate to describe Charles as a more efficient user of said resources. Eventually, he reached the bridge but stopped just before the doors. The princeps looked to his escorts with a serious expression.

"I think it's best if you two stay out here for the duration of my inspection," he said in a commanding tone. "No need to scare the crew to death."

"Query, how long will Command Unity Charles Yang be preoccupied with his inspection?"

"I'll be done when I'm done, soldier."

"Acknowledged," one of them replied as the pair took their spots beside the doorway as Charles walked closer, the door sliding open in response. He had expected to see a disciplined crew attending their duties or working on monitoring the primitive civilization below.

What he got instead was a bloodbath in front of the entryway, half of the crew apparently fainted on the ground with the other half too stunned to speak, and a human-like creature feasting on a arm. It looked up at the princeps and immediately dropped its meal before bowing in fear as it whimpered lightly. Charles sighed heavily as he dragged a hand down his face before resting it on his chin. He knew exactly what the creature was - a Kitsune, a human so infused with nanites that it could barely be called "human" anymore.

"...Did my sister do this?" He asked, despite already knowing the answer, his voice lacking the echo-y quality that Cordelia had.

The lead scientist opened and closed his mouth a few times before he found his voice again. "Y-Yes, Your Highness," the got out. "Y-You're seeing the remnants of what was once our abduction squad, Y-Your Highness."

The princeps gestured to the whimpering Kitsune. "And this?"

"Her Highness called it 'Romeo-12-J," Your Highness."

"Is that your name?" Charles asked the thing firmly, to which it cupped its elongated hands over the back of its head and whimpered even louder, which the princeps took as a yes. He sighed again and tossed a vial containing a light gray substance in the middle of the bodies, the glass shattering on impact. The substance - nanites that literally built the Technocracy - then moved to cover the corpses and dissolved them before melding into the floor, leaving a spotless area behind. The princeps then turned to the still-cowering 12-J before speaking.

"Stand," he ordered, to which it obeyed immediately, towering over him. "Head to the hangar bay, prepare for deployment."

As it left with its head hung in what was apparently shame, Charles looked over the bridge crew. "Continue as you were," he said in a surprisingly casual tone. "Report any developments at once."

He left without a response, his mind filled with more pressing matters like having yet another moral conversation with Cordelia about the value of having restraint and tolerance.

2 kilometers above the surface, western island chain, Beta Hydri III

"We're coming up to the drop zone now, ETA three minutes," Pilot Elliot Hudson reported as he guided the Falcon dropship through the atmosphere of the planet, the glow from the primitive population centers illuminating the ground. He didn't know why he bothered to do so since the thing he transported could barely be called human, further reinforced by the rapid series of clicks that it made in response. Elliot shuddered, causing the dropship to wobble slightly due to the connection it shared with his nervous system. He didn't know why he was so uneasy in the first place - years of flying through the most dangerous skies in the known galaxy should've long since hardened his mind to such sensations. Heck, his tenure as a pilot for gas harvester craft for a fuel processing facility on a gas giant alone should've been enough, and that was before his experience flying through extreme planetary storms to deliver cargo and anti-aircraft fire to deploy Punitive Corps soldiers.

He banked the dropship right, passing over a primitive industrial complex with guards in even more primitive armor and melee weapons standing watch. Elliot saw through the night vision and magnified view that they were bored out of their minds. They wouldn't notice anything of course - the Falcon was a specialized stealth model that was painted vantablack and was nearly silent, ensuring that no one, primitive or otherwise, would know that they were there. He could hover the dropship just above the top of their heads and they still wouldn't know they were there. The thing in the cargo hold paced anxiously, its clicking taking on an impatient tone which caused Elliot to roll his eyes.

"Almost there now, thirty seconds left," he said as he banked the dropship towards a clearing in the forest that they were flying over. Elliot pressed a button to the right of the main controls, causing the bottom of the craft to slide open as the thing made a startled noise, its too-long fingers gripping the sides. Eventually though, they reached the clearing and it dropped out before Elliot could descend to a safe height. The creature landed on its feet and looked around before it slowly walked into the tree line, towards a settlement not far off.


Romeo-12-J looked up at the dropship that delivered it as it flew away, his pitch black eyes spotting the singular light that shone from it as it grew fainter and fainter. It blinked once before it scanned the area and noticed numerous heartbeats of native fauna around it as noises reached its audio receptors that were installed in place of its ears. The Kitsune toned them all out as they were nothing but distractions. Taking a deep breath, the sensors in its naval cavity analyzed the air and relayed the information directly to his brain - a largely nitrogen-based atmosphere with oxygen and the faintest hint of industrial pollutants, not unlike pre-spaceflight Earth. Its mind processed the orders it was given and calculated the quickest method of completion, a digital arrow that pointed towards the nearest settlement appearing in its vision. 12-J began to walk in the direction indicated, its long and lanky legs making the motion awkward yet smooth at the same time. It knew that it could move on all fours at a much faster speed but that would also mean attracting attention due to the noise it would cause, which would lower efficiency.

Moving into the forest, 12-J noted that the various sounds he heard from before had suddenly stopped, from the buzzing of insects to the calls of nocturnal animals. It was as if the very planet suddenly became aware of the Kitsune's presence and decided that it was afraid of it. The snap of a branch caused its head to immediately shoot up and scan the area, its night vision failing to spot anything out of the ordinary. As it took another step, a large bear-like creature stepped from the underbrush and moved towards the Kitsune, baring its teeth and growling in the process. 12-J noted how resembled the various long-extinct Ursa genus of old Earth, although having naturally grown armored plates protecting it.

Unperturbed by the animal's futile display of aggression, 12-J began to slowly walk forward, causing the creature to back up as it continued to growl, although the Kitsune noticed the telltale signs of fear - increased heart rate, dilated pupils, increased breathing rate, the creature was close to running for its life. Deciding to respond to the animal's aggressive display with its own, 12-J opened its mouth and let out a sound that was a mix between a human scream and a howl, causing the creature to bolt off back into the foliage, whimpering in terror as it went. The Kitsune merely looked on with an uninterested expression before it continued onwards, its long fingers wrapping around tree trunks and pulling itself forward, various animals fleeing as it moved. It was a side effect of the sheer extent of its nanite infusions, where others like the Punitive Corps emanated an aura of unease and wrongness, Kitsunes were different in that the aura of wrongness was amplified into one of sheer existential impossibility, like the creatures were violating the rules of nature by existing. In a way, they were.

A thought appeared in 12-J's mind, one thought long repressed. It thought back to its past, back when it was merely just another human. Despite being hopelessly blurry, the Kitsune knew definitely that it was male, it was in its early twenties, and that it once had brown eyes. That was a different time, a weaker time.

Its mind suddenly pulsed with the sensation of an incoming communication, which 12-J accepted without pause.

"12-J, report current status," The voice of Lead Researcher David Xi came through its mind, causing the Kitsune to stop its movements for a moment to sent back a reply.

Current status: nominal. Distance from nearest settlement: 2.4 kilometers. Maintaining consistent speed of four kilometers an hour. Estimated time of arrival: fifteen minutes, 12-J reported in a thought. It could sense the baseliner think as it continued to walk, stepping over a cowering rodent with a elongated nose.

"Copy, maintain current parameters. Do not draw attention. Out."

The Kitsune continued to maneuver around the foliage, its body flowing like water between the trees. If it was still capable of the feeling, 12-J would've thought that its surroundings were peaceful. It couldn't though - primitive things like emotions and feelings were sacrificed in the nanite forges that remade the frail, weak human into what it was today. It stopped as it looked at a blood-red flower growing on the ground, the petals long and triangular. The Kitsune leaned down and cut the stem with it's scythe-like fingers before placing the flower on its head, its nanites securing it in place.

It would be nice livery.

Hira'a, Fire Nation, 7:22 am local time

Shoron was sitting on the steps of his home, looking at the orange sunrise while deep in thought. The young firebender-in-training yawned and mentally kicked himself for staying up so late last night. He couldn't help it though, the sight of shooting stars kept him up way past when he was supposed to go to bed, much to the annoyance of his parents. He stretched as he sat, his joints popping as he extended them out and pulled them back in, his posture hunched from sitting too long. His parents had said that shooting stars were much rarer once, with his mother and father each only seeing a total of four shooting stars in their lives. Now, they have become more frequent, to the point where it felt like the night sky was dancing with them. Even now, Shoron could've sworn that he could see the thin traces of light through the rising sun's rays. He squinted his eyes at the sky, hoping to see the traces of stardust before the day's light made it impossible to see them. He also swore he saw a couple flying up, but he chalked it up to his imagination.

He sighed, looking at the group of other children playing in the middle of the road. Why were there so many now? Had he imagined the whole thing? No, no he couldn't have imagined it as he saw others outside and looking at the sky too. Shoron remembered the stories his grandparents told him about how the stars were the spirits of their ancestors and that shooting stars represented the spirits visiting the mortal plane yet again to be with their loved ones one last time. He never believed those stories, but he couldn't deny that there was a hidden meaning behind the sudden surge in shooting stars.

As he sat there, still pondering about the meaning of the sudden increase in meteor showers, his mother walked out of the house and sat next to him, a tired but warm smile on her face. "You're up early today," she said, putting her long hair behind her shoulders. "You'll never make it through training if you don't get enough rest every day."

"Yeah, I know," Shoron said, rubbing his head awkwardly. "I just couldn't help it, seeing all those stars falling... did you see some, Mom?"

"I saw a few before going to bed, and I saw you staying out when you should've been in bed," she replied with a small smirk.

Shoron grimaced slightly. "I know, it's just... it's just that I could've sworn I saw one shoot upwards. Crazy, right?"

His mother scoffed lightly. "Now you're sounding like your grandfather," she teased, nudging him with her elbow playfully. "Always thought he saw something weird when it turned out to be completely normal."

Shoron smiled, although he wasn't focused on the conversation anymore. There was a new sensation creeping into his mind, the feeling of being watched. Not wanting his mother to worry, he subtly moved his head towards the tree line, towards the direction he thought the feeling was coming from, and used his eyes to look around. Nothing there. He then felt the sensation coming from directly in front and above him, on the roof of the house in front of theirs. He leaned back, scanning the rooftops as he did so. Nothing - although he could've sworn he saw movement out of the corners of his eyes. Despite not seeing anything, the feeling of being watched didn't fade but got stronger. His fingers instinctively twitched, his training kicking in as his mind tried to process whether or not he was in actual danger or not. Maybe his mother was right, that he did have a habit of imagining things.

"Shoron?" She asked, her smile fading when she noticed her son's unease. "Is something wrong?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh, nothing. Nothing's wrong, Mom," he replied, lying through his teeth. If she knew he wasn't telling the truth, she didn't show it. The young firebender continued to sit there and watch, this time to see if anything was watching him or if his lack of sleep was finally getting to him. As he looked around, he swore that he saw a pair of too-long fingers slide behind a house but he couldn't tell for sure. Shoron yawned as he stood, straightening out his clothes as he did so.

"I should get going," he said, his tone slightly distant. "Got to work hard on training after all."

His mother smiled at that, although it was mixed with a hint of worry as she saw her son walk off and wondered if something else was bothering him. Shoron himself still felt watched and hoped it went away before he began to train properly since it would only serve to distract him.

He couldn't have possibly known that he was about to get a much more... personal experience.


12-J watched as its target trained with his fellow pyromancers in the courtyard of a local educational center, watching them guide fire from a standing torch to a life-sized target of a person across the area. Its nanites allowed it to blend seamlessly with the wall it was standing in front of and allowed the Kitsune to be nearly invisible. Such a feat was impossible obviously, but its nanites operated like chromatophores on the long-extinct octopus - taking in the colours of the wall behind it and then matching its surface to the colours so that the Kitsune could blend in. It worked so well that unless someone had a special device designed to detect it, not a single being, organic or otherwise, would be able to know it was there. As it observed the unsophisticated juveniles in the training yard, he cross-referenced their pyromancy against examples of Technocracy pyromancers and noted several key differences. While Technocracy pyromancy focuses on wide, sweeping attacks to immolate opponents and therefore drain their morale, the pyromancy of the unsophisticated seemed to concentrate on precision attacks and used their bodies in a form of melee combat. It was charming in its own unsophisticated way, almost akin to an artform.

Unfortunately, art does not win wars.

The enemy will not care how flashy your moves are. All that matters is who strikes first.

The Kitsune's body was at an unusual angle, to the point where a baseliner's joints would've dislocated if one tried to replicate its pose, but it allowed for an unmatched observation position. If for some reason 12-J needed to reposition, it could easily crawl onto the roof and remain invisible all the while. It looked at its target, a juvenile named Shoron based on overheard conversation, and studied his movements and actions. The primitive posed no threat to the Kitsune of course, the main issue was determining a point of abduction. 12-J could take him right then and there, but the sheer amount of witnesses made that unfeasible. It studied their fighting style and ultimately determined that they'd be ineffective against its augmented form. Despite their primitiveness, the Kitsune had to admit that their form of pyromancy had a certain... flair to it that wasn't seen with imperial pyromancers, focusing on sheer, overwhelming, literal firepower with none of the finesse.

The Kitsune could also take him during his walk back home, but that too had its own share of uncertainties. The target could be walking with one or more of its fellow trainees which would need to be eliminated to preserve its actions on the planet, and 12-J was very sure that a few of the nearby settlement's kids being found dead would kick up more than a little scare. It shifted its position so that it was hunched on the rooftop on all fours as its eyes zoomed in on its target and his fellow trainees, noting how most of them only managed to guide the flames to one torch before the heat caused them to lose focus, much to the disappointment to their instructors. Crude. Infantile. How they managed to stave off extinction without the sciences, it would never understand.

If these are the best psions that these primitives managed to scrounge up, they are truly doomed, the Kitsune thought as it quietly clicked to itself.

There was one thing that it found surprising though, which was the lack of psionic backlash that plagued psions when they overexerted themselves. Any usage of psionic powers had a equal and opposite reaction within the extradimensional reality. Some abilities like telepathy and empathic powers had very little risk. Abilities that manipulated reality like elemental manipulation, on the other hand posed a much higher risk. The Shroud is a responsive and fickle thing, and even the most advanced psions had to tread carefully when using their powers. Any misstep - a singular arrogant thought or overextension - could render a psion comatose or even dead. Yet these children, these primitives have accomplished something not even the Technocracy could - consistent safe use of psionic powers with no consequences. It clicked to itself again, more in amusement than anything else. When - and not if - the Technocracy decided to intervene, no amount of this primitive pyromancy would save them from the literal tidal wave of carnage that would be sent their way. These humans might have their way of fighting and their traditions, but the Technocracy will show them a real war.

A gust of wind caused a single leaf to detach from its tree and blow towards the Kitsune, landing on its leg and causing the nanites to flicker and temporarily disable the camouflage field. It was only for a few seconds but it was more than enough to cause Shoron to do a double take before he was chastised by one of his instructors for losing focus. 12-J had already moved behind the roof, well out of sight.

Careless, it thought to itself as it recalibrated its camouflage systems, the nanites rippling as 12-J became cloaked once again. The Kitsune smiled to itself, already determining the best course of action. It would follow the juvenile designated Shoron back to its place of residence and take him in the middle of the night. There was the factor of the parents yes, but 12-J could easily assume the identity of its target and implant itself within the household, the parents none the wiser.

As it slinked away into the shadow of an overhanging roof, 12-J only had thought on his mind:

Make your peace, primitive - enlightenment awaits you.

That night...

Shoron couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned on his bed, trying to get that damn feeling of being watched out of his head. It didn't go away when he walked to school, it didn't go away during his training, making him worse as a result, and it didn't go away as he was walking home with a fellow trainee, a close friend named Yorin. He even saw what was stalking him this whole time on his way back - a tall man, at least he thought it was a man, with skin as pale as the moon, eyes as dark as the night sky itself, fingers that were longer than his arm, and so thin that they were almost a skeleton.

"Hey," he remembered saying as he grabbed Yorin's shoulder. "Do you see that too?"

His friend, startled by his action, squinted his eyes in the direction Shoron was pointing in. "What are you talking about?" Yorin asked, frowning as he scanned the treeline. "There's nothing there."

"No, I swear I saw someone standing right there," Shoron insisted, pointing to the spot where the figure had stood. Yorin walked over to the spot but found nothing.

"Could be your eyes messing with you, you've been out of it the whole day," he said with a notable hint of concern. Shoron muttered something but didn't decide to push the topic further. The rest of his walk home was a paranoia-riddled nightmare, each sudden sound making him jump and every movement setting him on edge. Every time he looked back, he could've swore he'd seen something move just out of site - ducking behind a tree, house, or rock.

That was hours ago, and now Shoron was staring at the wooden beams on the ceiling, his fear and worry gradually turning into annoyance as he lay in bed, unable to sleep but not wanting to do anything else. The feeling of being watched returned, this time coming from his right. Grumbling in annoyance, he flung his thin covers off of himself and stomped to his window, throwing open the curtains to... nothing. He scanned the treeline intently, determined to finally get a good look at the figure he spotted earlier - or anything for that matter - but saw nothing. The feeling of being watched had vanished too. Closing the curtains with a curse, he walked back to bed and lay down with a grunt.

"I'm just tired, I'm just tired..." he mumbled to himself as he closed his eyes, hoping to finally let the embrace of sleep claim him.

But it didn't.

The feeling returned, the sensation that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and goosebumps appear on his skin. But it was different this time - instead of coming from a singular direction, it was moving around him, almost like... almost like something was circling his house. Shoron came to the realization just as he caught a glimpse of something moving outside his window, the thin curtains doing little to block out the light and the shadow that was covering his window. The clicking he heard before came back as well, a sharp noise that seemed to move with the shadow. Someone, or something, was out there.

Shoron lay there, frozen in terror, as he kept his eyes focused on the window as he saw the shadow pass by twice, three, four, five times, the sound of pebbles moving outside and the clicking being the only hint that something was out there besides the shadow on his curtains. He closed his eyes, begging for whatever was outside to just leave him and his family alone. What could anyone want with him? Sure, he was a firebender, but he wasn't exactly a master at being one and he couldn't recall insulting anyone on purpose or accidentally. As he ran through all the reasons why someone would take such an interest in him, he heard the sound he'd been wanting to hear for a long time - nothing. No movement, no pebbles being disturbed, no clicking, and everything outside was at peace.

Shoron opened his eyes and nearly laughed with relief. Could it be over? Had whoever it was finally moved on? His eyes glanced at the window and-

Wait.

Why were his curtains open?

Panic immediately filled his mind as he desperately swept his room for anything or anyone that could've been inside. He could easily defend himself if push came to shove, and the commotion would surely wake his parents. The feeling of being watched had returned, now much more intense than it had been before, and there was something else accompanying it now. Shoron couldn't place it, but it was a feeling of... wrongness, like whatever was in his room shouldn't exist. Not in a spirit sort of way, but as in whatever was with him defied all the laws of nature and spirits. It shouldn't have existed in the first place. As he scanned his room in desperation, his eyes landed on something that made his breath get caught in his throat and his eyes go wide.

It was the figure from before.

It was a man, he was sure of it now, but he was huge, having to bend down slightly to fit his massive frame in the relatively smaller confines of his room. Shoron stared into the man's black eyes, two lightless orbs that made up his blank expression. A fire lily was attached to his head, an attempt at decoration that made it even more deranged.

Before he could scream or do anything else, the man moved forward at shocking speed and clamped a hand around his mouth. He felt a cold sensation spread across his face and inside his nostrils before he passed out.


12-J looked down at the unconscious juvenile lying on the floor with an unsatisfied expression. For all the anticipation that it built up for the hunt, it ended up being a relatively uneventful with the closest event resembling anything of importance being when the Kitsune was almost spotted by its target and his fellow trainee, forcing it to duck behind some native foliage. No identity theft, no long-term infiltration, no traceless sabotage. The Kitsune would've sighed if it still knew how. It wasn't made for this, it wasn't designed for this. 12-J was much more home at the art of being the perfect sleeper agent - infiltrating enemy or ally populations, taking on an identity, wait for who knows how long for an order, and then executing said order with next to no trace left behind. Assassinations, sabotage, data theft - all of those were the art of the Kitsune, what units like 12-J were made for. Not whatever... this was.

It thought back to the express order of nonlethally subduing its target and let out a low electronic growl. For a being designed with the express purpose to carry out the perfect assassination, it was nothing short of an insult against both it and its entire purpose for existing. Still, orders were orders and 12-J would follow them to the letter no matter what. The Kitsune used this moment to study its target further, noting his thick black hair that was cut to a medium length. It looked at his face and calculated his age to be in the early teens, quite young for a psion. Most psionically gifted individuals didn't manifest their powers until they hit puberty, their gifts often being mistaken for mental disorders at young ages. A long, slim, and sharp finger gently slid open an eyelid, revealing a deep brown iris. Fascinating. An odd sensation began to swell in the artificial blood-pumping device that replaced the Kitsune's heart, one that it couldn't place. Was it nostalgia? For what? Its old, weak, and pitiful human self? No, it would never feel nostalgia for that.

Footsteps from above caught its attention, causing the Kitsune to glide up the stairs gently, the darkness hiding its form. 12-J's night vision caught the mother of the target exit her sleeping quarters and head in the direction of the stairs, most likely to check on her son which was unconscious on his bedroom floor. Moving with the quietness and swiftness of the wind, the Kitsune returned to its target's quarters and placed him in a position that he would logically make in his sleep before covering him with a blanket and hiding under his bed, its body easily folding into the small space below. It watched as the mother approached the target's bedroom, her sleepy voice quiet but easily detectable by its audio receptors.

"Shoron?" She mumbled as she appeared in the doorway, seeing her son unconscious with his back turned to her. 12-J gripped the edge of the bed, ready to eliminate her should the need arise. It would never arise though, as the woman - seemingly content with her son's status - left to head back to bed.

Fool, 12-J thought as it slid out from underneath the bed and stood back up, taking care not to bump into the ceiling as it did so.

Commander Unit David Xi, this unit reports subject successfully incapacitated and awaiting extraction, it reported to the observation post in orbit, its thought transmitting almost instantly.

"Copy, extraction coordinates are the same as insertion site, out," the lead researcher responded as a digital arrow appeared in 12-J's vision.

Without a sound, the Kitsune slid open the curtains covering the glass-less window, picked up the juvenile, and ran off into the night. 12-J thought about how the parents would react in the morning when they would find that their son's bed was empty, but dismissed the thought. Oh, they would see their son again, it just wouldn't be him exactly.


The time it took for the Kitsune to reach the extraction point felt much shorter than the time it took for it to arrive at the settlement, most likely because it didn't need to concern itself with hiding its presence much. So what if someone spotted it? So what if they spotted it running with an unconscious juvenile in its hands? What would they do? Run? Scream? Try to stop it? If anyone tried to stop it or get in its way, they would be swept aside like the obstacle they were. 12-J was now standing in the same clearing where it had been deployed in and looked up to see if the dropship was present. A light drizzle was falling over the area, the raindrops sliding off of the Kitsune's metallic skin. The clouds made it impossible to detect whether or not a dropship was approaching, even with a Kitsune's enhanced vision, so 12-J opted to study its quarry which was still unconscious in its hands. He looked so small, so delicate compared to its hands alone that it almost seemed comedic that 12-J used to be one of them. It could crush it right now, twist his small neck with a single flick, his tiny heart stopping forever.

But death would violate mission parameters.

Kitsune do not violate mission parameters.

Eventually, the telltale sign of a dropship descending caused it to focus on the craft as it broke through the clouds and landed a few feet in front of it, the rear ramp lowering to reveal two Planetary Guard soldiers, their black armor and red details blending into the night as they wheeled out a gurney with attached restraints in front of the Kitsune.

"Place the subject here," one of the soldiers ordered as they tapped the bed with their Thunderstorm rifle, their lower face covered in a face scarf and their eyes hidden by a red visor that was attached to their helmet. 12-J complied as it gently placed the juvenile on the gurney, to which the other soldier attached the restraints and placed a gag in his mouth. As they pushed the gurney back into the dropship, the first soldier turned to look at the Kitsune, utterly unfazed by its appearance.

"So what now?" They asked. "Surely the parents of our lucky subject here would notice the disappearance of their son, right?"

12-J tilted its head before it began to morph, its height shrinking as its bones and skin cracked and tore, cartilage popping and joints setting as it changed shape. Black hair sprouted from its head and flowed to medium length as its fingers shrunk into that resembling a child. Eventually, the Kitsune was almost indistinguishable from the boy on the gurney, down to his brown eyes. It smiled at the soldier, as innocently as a normal child would.

"...Of course," the soldier sighed, to which the Kitsune giggled in what they assumed was the subject's voice.

"You baseliners always overthink stuff," 12-J said, actually having a voice now rather than making clicking noises. "This a weakness that is easily exploitable - I am a living testament to that fact."

"Right. Well, the dossier said that these primitives have elemental manipulation abilities, I'm not sure how-"

The Kitsune thrust an arm to its side, causing a fireball to shoot out. It then copied the moves it had seen the juvenile perform during his training, launching more fireballs in random directions. The soldier then sighed before continuing.

"You know what? I'm not even going to ask how-"

"I have specialized tubing in my muscles that link to pores in my skin that release a gas that ignites upon contact with the air," 12-J interrupted as it flexed its fingers, optimizing their movement. "Not exactly like the real thing but close enough."

"Creepy bastard."

"I get that a lot," it replied before running off in the direction it came from, not in the same smooth and long gait like it did before. It ran like a child, moved like a child. No one would be able to know what it truly was. All they would see would be a child who had stayed out past bedtime and was now running home to escape the rain.

"Freak," the soldier muttered to themselves before the ramp slid closed and the dropship departed, leaving the world behind and heading for the observation post in orbit.

Beta Hydri III observation post, ten minutes later...

"Sir, we've got the subject, returning to the post now," David heard one of the two soldiers he sent to retrieve the individual 12-J had captured through the communicator. Sounds of a struggle and muffled crying was also present in the background and was interspersed with grunts and swears. "Unfortunately, they are awake and very distressed."

"As expected," he replied in a clinical tone. "Are they still restrained?"

"Yes, sir. The subject bound to the gurney and-" a whoosh interrupted the soldier before they swore as the sound of rapid patting followed. "The brat shot a fireball at me! Permission to-" Another whoosh. "Damn it, hold his hands down! Permission to sedate him, sir?"

"Denied, he will be processed on the post itself. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Out."

David turned around on his chair and leaned back as he studied the holographic projection of the planer in front of him as other scientists - sociologists and political theorists - also studied the holographic globe, taking down notes as they looked. Spy satellites deployed in orbit provided a clearer picture of the various civilizations below. He zoomed in on both the island chain and the mainland, noting how their architecture resembled that of old Earth, before it had been converted into an ecumenopolis in 2297. The lead scientist smiled to himself, taking pride in the fact he was a part of the effort to nurture this offshoot of humanity, even if the Technocracy itself had seeded them here. Whenever the Technocracy encountered a pre-FTL society, typical procedures were to set up observation posts and determine the value of the society present before either enlightening them or exterminating them to clear out the planet for access to its natural resources, but this wasn't a typical pre-FTL civilization and this wasn't just any mission.

He brought up his personal notes on Project Genesis, specifically the locations where the original subjects were deposited, and attached them to the holographic sphere, tapping on the island chain to study its population through time. Although Annabelle had introduced the four groups to him yesterday, he still wanted a more detailed account. A textbox appeared that listed the initial and current population, along with any notes.

Test Population Group 1:

Initial Population Size: 180 individuals

Current Population Size: 550,000 individuals

Notes:

- Government resembles a stratocratic monarchy, led by a council of spiritual leaders and a so-called "fire lord" who wields absolute power
- Local volcanic activity seems to be the catalyst for this group's industrial revolution beginning much earlier than the other test population groups
- Fire motifs are a highly present feature in daily life, almost comedically so - architecture, clothing, even ritualistic combat
- Pyromancers appear to be the primary psionic manifestation with other psion types (telepaths, empaths, etc.) seemingly absent altogether
- Most viable candidate for technological enlightenment

David tapped on the main continent next, another text box appearing below the hologram.

Test Population Group 2:

Initial Population Size: 250 individuals

Current Population Size: 990,000 individuals

Notes:

- Government resembles an irenic monarchy led by a so-called "Earth Monarch," although numerous states and vassal territories exist, making identification of a main capital difficult
- The population is not a "kingdom" more than it is a confederation of various city-states coalescing around the currently strongest city-state
- Is currently engaged in a proto-cold war with Test Population Group 1, with various settlements surrendered to the former with a 98.45% chance of the war going hot within the next decade
- Terramancy is the primary psionic manifestation
- Second most viable candidate for technological enlightenment, although current government form would need to be dismantled and restructured into a more orderly form

The arctic regions were next as the lead scientist tapped on one of the poles, text boxes appearing on both the north and south poles.

Test Population Group 3:

Initial Population Size: 150 individuals (north pole), 150 individuals (south pole)

Current Population Size: 8,000 individuals (north pole), 950 individuals (south pole)

Notes:

- Both poles consist of tribal societies with no forms of central government being identifiable
- Society consists of primarily hunter-gatherers and mastery of oceanic travel
- The southern pole is currently engaged in a genocidal war with Test Population Group 1 with many psions being abducted and settlements razed
- Hydromancy is the primary psionic manifestation
- Least viable candidate for technological enlightenment, most likely needing to be eliminated to make room for the two other Population Groups

Finally, David tapped on the various mountain regions on the globe, the textboxes displaying an intriguing development.

Test Population Group 4:

Initial Population Size: 250 individuals

Current Population Size: 0 individuals

Notes:

- Most spiritualistic of the four Population Groups, with drones recording numerous examples of religious imagery from the mountains. Evidence indicates a nomadic society who utilized genetically engineered mammals introduced by Project Genesis, also extinct
- Orbital ground-penetrating imagery reveals extensive mountain tunnel systems that may have acted like habitation centers
- Cause of extinction unknown, most likely proposals being genocide by another test population group, carnivorous fauna overwhelming them, a disease, or civil conflict
- Most primary manifestation was aeromancy, according to documented cave drawings

The sound of rolling wheels and struggling pulled the lead scientist from his thoughts and he turned around to see the two soldiers pushing the gurney past the bridge entrance, the restrained subject struggling on the bed as tears rolled down his face. David stood to follow them, gesturing for two more scientists to follow him as he left. He eventually followed the soldiers to an examination room, the cold, sterile white walls providing an oddly comforting factor for the lead researcher. The gurney locked into place on the floor as the scientists descended on the boy like a pack of vultures, their movements perfected and analytical. One of them jabbed the subject in the arm with a needle, causing him to whimper as his blood was extracted and placed within an analysis device.

"Blood type AB negative," a scientist reported as another scientist scanned the boy with a handheld device as it beeped to indicate that it finished.

"Adrenaline above normal levels," they reported before reaching over and parted the boy's lips and the gag, revealing his teeth. He whimpered, flinching at the touch but lacked the strength to resist. "Dental health nominal."

David nodded before turning to one of the soldiers standing by the door, noticing burn marks on some portions of their armor.

"You look cooked," he noted without a hint of humor.

The soldier huffed before speaking. "Little bastard has more fight than anticipated, sir," they replied as they tried to flex their hand, the charred remains of the glove covering it flaking off as they did so.

The lead researcher nodded, already mentally developing testing procedures to fully determine his full skill. He then pulled down a device mounted on the roof, a neurowave sensor, to analyze his psionic capabilities as the boy looked in between the two with frantic eyes, tears continuing to stream down his cheeks as David brought the device down and scanned his head, a purple light bathing him as the device worked. A scientist was bending over a screen as the results appeared, a wide sine wave overlapping a typical psion's brain waves.

"Subject's brain waves resembles a typical psion's," they reported as the device slid back into the ceiling.

The lead researcher nodded as he studied the subject who stopped struggling at this point and just opted to just lie there and cry quietly. "Put him in stasis. When the testing chambers come back online, I want him ready for trials immediately."

"Yes, sir," the other scientist replied as they injected the boy with a sedative before they rolled him out of the room, leaving David with another scientist in the room to discuss the next steps. Genesis was more successful than anyone would've imagined, but Test Population Group 1 had a problem.

They think themselves the top of their world, best of the best, and that they are the masters of everything.

How foolish they are.


Information Data Logs:

Nanites: Although officially beginning in the year 1981 but wasn't perfected until the year 2189, these molecular-sized machines are the figurative and literal building blocks for the Technocracy, the invention of nanites was a scientific breakthrough on par with the discovery of penicillin and synthetic insulin. No longer were we bound by Natural Selection's chains. No longer were we forced to suffer from mutations and genetic diseases. Humanity could now edit our own genetic code and those of other species at a whim - cancer was cured overnight, every known genetic disease and defect was wiped out along with their carriers, and farm animals doubled their meat yields, allowing more people to be fed using the same amount of land for animal husbandry. The benefits nanites gave wasn't only biological though, as humanity experienced a second industrial revolution with factories churning out five times the normal amount of consumer goods, foundries producing over double the alloys with normal inputs, and computer systems streamlined to near-supernatural levels. Buildings went up in a fraction of a time, specialized controllers of these molecular marvels assisting standard construction crews in perfect harmony. Now, in the 25th century, humanity and nanites are so ubiquitous that it is often joked that humans are composed of 60% water, 20% organic matter, and 20% nanites, with the molecular machines improving every aspect from longevity to near-immortality, all the way to doubling the cognitive abilities for some individuals. Research is underway to integrate nanites with psionic individuals as any form of artificial enhancement effectively mutes one's soul to the Shroud, rendering them safe from any hostile manifestations but unable to use any psionic powers.

Princeps Cordelia Yang: Also known as the "Red Reaver" or "War," Princeps Cordelia Yang is the eldest of the royal sibling pair, being older than her brother Charles by a month and taller as well, standing at a stature of 8'7". From a young age, Cordelia showed a knack for combat as she was proficient with numerous ranged and melee weapons, a factor only exacerbated with her nanite infusions, which granted her near omniscient amounts of mastery. She could slice a bullet out of the air and strike a target over two kilometers away with a pistol, and taking a "kill first, ask questions never" mentality, a very different set of skills than her much more pacifistic brother. She is also a total sociopath and while she won't actively go out of her way to torment others, the princeps won't hesitate to take the most direct path towards a goal, no matter how many people it hurts, much to her brother's infinite chagrin. Despite her mental state, she genuinely adores her brother and father, defending them from anything even though they were in the wrong.

Yang Dynasty: The official ruling "party" of the Interstellar Solar Technocracy, the origins of the dynasty are shrouded in mystery. Some accept that the dynasty began when the hyperdrive was invented, in the year 2199. Others, including the Imperator himself, accept that the dynasty began after the end of the Era of Consolidation when the then Imperial Asiatic Technocracy absorbed the territory it had conquered during the War for Societal Unification. Others still claim that the dynasty began when the first imperator, Fei Yin "Arden" Yang, crowned himself imperator in the year 2054. If Adrian Yang XIV's beliefs, then the dynasty is over four hundred years old. The dynasty initially began as a fascist dictatorship before it mutated into a bunch of decadent hedonists, where the most taboo, deviant, and perverted activities known to man were not only legal but actively encouraged. Adrian, seeing the dark path humanity was going down, deposed his father - Imperator Helix Yang XIII - in a bloodless coup in the year 2195. Not content with taking the throne, Adrian singlehandedly "cleansed" the dynasty of the degenerates, hedonists, and other deviants, turning the Technocracy into the stratocratic, authoritarian, and technocratic society it is today.

Baseliner(s): An umbrella term that refers to all non-nanite-infused organic individuals, human or alien, the term baseliner has its roots in the official classification of living beings that are genetically "pure," with no modifications, biological or otherwise. It has since been adopted by many nanite-infused individuals who, depending on the context and tone of voice, use as either a neutral descriptor for an individuals to a derogatory slur.

Princeps Charles Yang: The designated heir and official regent of the Technocracy, Princeps Charles Yang - also known as the "Overseer" or "Famine" - is the younger of the royal sibling pair, being younger than his sister by a month and shorter, standing at 8'4". Unlike Cordelia, who is well known for her martial prowess and ruthlessness, Charles is an absolute pacifist and will refuse to harm others even in self defense. The reason for this so-called "pacifism defect" is his nanites cutting off the region of the brain that processes violent tendencies, essentially neutering them. For years, the princeps had lived in fear of the thought that his father would put him down for his defect as the Yang Dynasty was built by military leaders and warriors. Instead, Adrian placed him as the head of the Imperial Administration Department where he excelled at his role. Despite his shortcomings, the imperator never laid a hand on his son as what self-respecting ruler would do that? Despite his pacifism, this does nothing to stop him from ordering others to be violent in his stead - including his own sister - and is responsible for approving some of the greatest atrocities the Technocracy made. He also doesn't understand any form of complex speaking - innuendos, double ententes, slang - and will take everything literally, much like his father. He also physically cannot tell a lie, much like his sister. Despite this though, he often accompanies his father for negotiations as while he's average at social interactions, Adrian varies wildly from being a diplomatic prodigy to being a naive child who can barely navigate a basic treaty negotiation without help.

Kitsunes: Officially called the KTSN-01A Special Infiltration and Espionage Operations Division, and affectionately called the "Kitsune," these "men" and "women" are examples of nanite infusion taken to its logical extreme, with their stature growing unnaturally tall and slim, almost to the point of being skeletal, and their limbs extending well beyond human dimensions. Like their fox spirit analogies, they can turn into and mimic any individual that they made contact with down to the genetic level, stealing their fingerprints, behaviors, mannerisms, voices, and even their memories. While the victim does not need to die, many Kitsune kill to prevent their covers from being blown. They may live for weeks, months, years, or even decades among a target population, seamlessly blending in and taking on the identity of their victim, waiting for an order to be given from the Technocracy, which they will follow to the letter.