Argall smiled as the first of the anti-gravity magnetic propulsion vehicles hovered off of the ground and began zipping around in silence, leaving no earthly trace or track. His people cheered and celebrated from the stands, behind the railings. The magnetic engines were a success, he concluded, a great victory for himself and for the people of Hyperborea, his nation, his world, of which he reigned as Supreme Chancellor.
Just over three weeks ago, his Builder Bots, most of which he'd equipped with primitive thrusters for flight, had finished constructing the Nareena, Hyperborea's first space shipyard, where new vessels would be constructed. It was filled with automated builders and machines that'd aid in the construction of just about any design he could think of, including fabricators and foundries for the shaping of metal and stone. Argall named it after his mother, of course, seeing as it was his first and grandest construction to date. It was his way of honoring her legacy. Then again, he mused, most people were quick to move on and forget about the old legends, the Scrappers of old.
Now, they were little more than stories, told by the older generation, who – themselves – were fading into obscurity as more generations were born and raised in what was essentially an entirely different world. Still, some of the Old Ways remained, like the tradition of non-violence towards each other; in this case, towards fellow Hyperboreans. It made the police force almost pointless, honestly, which was why their role in society was relegated to the settling of civil disputes.
As for industry...
Land-bound foundries and factories existed, of course, since the planet required an industrial base, but such structures would soon become obsolete with the coming of the Star Forge, which Argall designed to be the heart of Hyperborean industry, capable of harnessing raw material from stars and refining them into something usable. But, of course, that was a far off thing. The Star Forge would require immense resources to build. He'd likely have to strip mine asteroids and neighboring planets clean. And, most of all, its construction, even by the most generous estimates, would take at least a hundred years to finish.
The sewer system of Caladan, the first true city in the whole world, was his second greatest achievement, to date. It had been quite a shock to find that designing a robust and effective sewer system took quite a bit of effort. But then Argall also quickly found that human filth, as it turned out, made for excellent fertilizer. The city itself was magnificent – tall, slender, and beautiful buildings with hanging gardens and waterfalls, with rivers of fresh, clean water flowing through a system of underground pipes, made available for everyone through the numerous drinking fountains dotted throughout the city, itself large enough to house every single citizen of Hyperborea, save for those who dedicated themselves to living out their lives in the steppes – as their ancestors had done.
Argall wouldn't begrudge them for their decision. The nomads were welcome to enter the great city of Caladan anytime they wished.
The city of Caladan was maintained by hundreds of advanced hydroponic farms, managed by automated machines, producing crops and vegetables. Great farms, ran by farmers themselves, managed the living conditions of livestock and other animals for consumption. Food was abundant and essentially infinite. His people, Argall mused, would never feel hunger or thirst – not on his watch. And so, his people prospered. That said, every single Hyperborean citizen was trained for war, made to endure military training and discipline even as they learned to write their own names. Argall hated it, but it was necessary. At all times, every citizen of Hyperborea needed to be ready for war.
"Well, I guess we can call that a success." Sereen said from her seat by his side. Argall's smile did not fade as he glanced at his sister, whose head now sported many streaks of white. As she was now, she looked so much like their mother. It was a pity that, even with all the rejuvenation treatments available, she refused to take any of them – or, at least, the ones that extended her life beyond two hundred - and would likely not live long enough to witness the day their people truly became interstellar.
But, of course, he respected her decision. And, honestly, at eighty-one years of age, Sereen was spry, hale, and hearty, having given birth to and raised ten children, many of whom were now great artisans and artists, inventors and builders, men and women of great renown. Her children were known to be top students at the military academy as well, though none of them ever bothered to become officers.
Argall nodded. "Indeed. Next week, we can begin the construction of our first FTL-capable ships. I estimate it'll take at least four months to finish a single one and a whole month of testing to determine if the Fold Drive is truly viable, at least until I can come up with a better design; the Necron Inertia-less Drive is... well it's giving me a damn headache just thinking about it."
Nareena smiled as she breathed in, closed her eyes, and leaned back. "Quite a lot has changed, since father disappeared, huh? All those years ago..."
Argall nodded. More than sixty years passed since his father disappeared and, in that time, the Rangdan did not return as he'd predicted. No alien menace attacked them, nothing. And so, a period of rebuilding followed, accompanied by what was essentially a cultural renaissance. And still, both Argall and Sereen never gave up hope that, one day, their father would return. "Yes... quite a lot of things have changed. Our people are no longer divided and we're on our way to becoming a true interstellar race, just as we'd hoped."
"What of your project, sister?" Argall asked.
"Oh, it's going well," Sereen answered. "It's going really smoothly, actually; I didn't even have to do much."
Though most of the Scrapyards had been tamed and the Dragons reclaimed by Phaeron Khoteph for convenience, many wild beasts and creatures still roamed the steppes. At his sister's insistence, however, Argall made it illegal to hunt them without a permit as a means of conserving Hyperborea's native fauna. The only ones who were exempted from this law were the nomads, who relied on hunting and gathering to fuel their lifestyle. But they were so few that any animal they killed would do little to actually hurt the ecosystem. And so, Sereen made it her personal mission to create a zoo, where Hyperboreans could witness these wild beasts in the flesh, without encroaching in the territory of the animals, but also keeping them well-fed and content in an environment that, more or less, mimicked their natural habitat.
"What's next for you?" Sereen asked. "Surely, FTL vessels aren't your only project?"
Argall sighed. "I would like to make my superhuman program public. I have kept it hidden for long enough, I think, to allow our people to acclimate to this new world. Now is the time to truly enhance them, to turn them into something greater, something more than human."
His initial designs for the gene-forges had been rushed – imperfect. But, after decades of study – and with some help from Phaeron Khoteph – Argall was finally able to perfect his initial design, which resulted in something he simply referred to as the Genesis Chamber, a device that held total dominion over the shape of flesh, down to the microscopic level, to the very organelles of the cells and the individual strands of DNA and RNA. Full and absolute control; a man could walk in and be turned into a lizard within moments if he so desired. Argall built and perfected it. Even Khoteph and his Honorable Cryptek, Jzahth, approved of his design, the latter commenting that it was a masterpiece – by mortal standards, at least.
Everything was ready. There were even a few, Argall mused, who've already undergone the transformation to become superhumans. But they looked no different from everyone else, their augmentations lurking just beneath the skin. There were five of them, Argall recalled, each one now mothers and fathers of many children, who'd inherit their parents' genetics – a perfect auto-immune system, perfect memory, nigh-indestructible bones, increased muscle density and physical strength and speed, auto-adjusting metabolic processes, lengthened telomeres, immunity to nearly every form of radiation, the removal of the necessity of sleep (and this one took him a while to crack), regenerative capabilities, and the ability to perfectly pass all of these traits to the next generation.
And this design was just the Mark 1. The Mark 2 was meant to be even greater, though most of its traits were geared towards warfare and violence. Argall designed the Mark 2 for those who'd prove themselves worthy of becoming Scrappers, a nod to the now-extinct profession, humanity's supersoldiers, meant to hold the line against all threats. The Mark 3 was somewhat of a lesser variant of the Mark 2, meant for infantrymen and naval officers, increasing hand-eye coordination and neural speed to almost godly levels, without the bone growth or increased muscle-mass.
"Do you think they're ready for something like that?" Sereen asked, raising a brow. "Even the advanced rejuvenants you rolled out decades ago took a while to be accepted. This would be an entirely different monster."
"I know," Argall said, looking up at the sky, where the magnetic trains sped through the railways faster than the blink of an eye – another marvel, but not something he considered particularly difficult to implement, honestly. "But our people should be ready, Sereen. Something is coming. I don't know what it is. I thought, at first, that it might've been the Rangdan, but now I'm not sure. Father must've dealt with them, already. But I feel it in my bones, Sereen; something monstrous is headed straight for us. And we have to be ready to meet them."
"And you think that turning every single person in Hyperborea into a superhuman is the best option, moving forward?" Sereen asked. Argall detected no sarcasm or doubt in her tone, only sincere curiosity, despite the actual tone of it suggesting otherwise.
"I believe it is the best decision, yes." Argall nodded. "And, besides, I honestly don't see any downsides to this, especially if every single Hyperborean is given the same, equal, augmentation. There would be no risk of segregation or discrimination; I'd make sure of it. Hell, I'll even turn the nomads."
"Cool," Sereen chuckled. "You'll have to word it really well if you're gonna wanna convince everyone, but I don't think you're gonna have any problem with that, you smooth talking little shit."
"Hah, you're right about that," Argall smiled, before immediately frowning as he turned his head up to the sky. "There's not much time left... I can feel it. This needs to happen soon. Everything needs to happen soon."
"You saw something, didn't you?" Sereen asked. "I think you mentioned it once, many years ago; you saw something in your dreams. And it wasn't the Rangdan."
Argall closed his eyes for a moment, his thoughts drifting back to that strange dream, where he'd seen great shadows looming over the sky, of gargantuan engines of war brought to bear against his people. He saw annihilation and conquest. All because he hadn't prepared properly, because he'd failed to arm his people. And Sereen was right. Now, after much contemplation, Argall was rather certain that what was coming wasn't the Rangdan. Those aliens, if they even dared to return, would be wiped out by Phaeron Khoteph. And, there was a part of him that knew – somehow – that his father had dealt with the Rangdan, somehow, entirely by himself. No, what he'd glimpsed was something else entirely, a legion of armored giants - brutal and without a single thought of mercy or diplomacy.
"No, it wasn't the Rangdan," Argall nodded. "I saw something... far worse, but shrouded in darkness and shadow. All I know is that it can't possibly hurt to prepare for any possible threat."
"Well, I'll stand by you," Sereen said. "For as long as I can, anyway. Hopefully, I won't live long enough to see this great enemy you keep talking about. But my children and, maybe, their children will surely fight at their uncle's side."
"I'll declare the existence of the Genesis Chamber tomorrow," Argall said. "I'll explain to our people that this is the way to the future, the key to our salvation. They'll agree with me; they always do. It's about time we moved forward for real."
Sereen smiled and raised a glass of liquor, distilled from local crops. "To the future, then?"
Argall smiled back and nodded, raising a glass of his own. He didn't like drinking, but Sereen sure did. His sister liked to test just how much her liver could feasibly take before it failed her, just like their mother, actually. Somehow, her liver was still winning. "To the future."
Around them, the crowds continued cheering as the anti-gravity magnetic-propulsion vehicle began performing stunts mid-air. Argall's eyes narrowed and his smile faded. "To the future..."
He didn't tell her that, in his dream, Argall saw his people waging war against other humans.
AN: Chapter 28 is out on (Pat)reon!