"One city." Alius Arma said. "That's all we need."
"Yes, sir." The officer replied, looking down at his datapad. "We've got a readout of all cities on the sector of Adumar you specified, as well as their population-versus-defense statistics."
"Good." Alius look at the officer. He was young -- only around seventeen, in terms of human maturity. More incredible, he was only around a week old in actual time. Alert, strong, intelligent, aware; everything that you could never count on humans to be, this Gen was. And he was only one of a million; one of a million created by the abundant resources of Mors.
Abundant, but quickly waning. The fires of industry were quickly consuming the fuel which Mors was prepared to yield to the Terreyosian People's Republic. After the victory over Verrakeye, the enslaved humans of Mors, newly turned away from their position as the brutal dictators of Mors, the conversion of the planet to a world of war, a well-oiled machine of destruction, was swift. Throughout the planet, Gen Production Facilities had been raised -- often in the core of cities, as the centrepiece; the driving force behind all acitivity throughout. Mining facilities were erected, and the ground drilled for its precious fuels; many cities were deconstructed entirely, their contents burned for energy. Of course, all the cities which were burned were human cities.
Mors had been fully converted. Into a weapon.
But its surface, now pocked by craters of exhausted mines, covered in cities built to house the rapidly-increasing Gen population, and filled with Gen Production Plants where the conquered humans worked to produced revised versions of themselves, was slowly ceasing to yield harvest for the endless fields of cloning cylindars and factories. The process, Alius thought, had not yet been refined -- they were, after all, new to this business. It was running on technology built a thousand years ago for an utterly different purpose.
The other problem presented by this, of course, was the massive amount of resources needed to contruct spacecraft. "You know, Officer Xillin," Alius said, "I would be interested in hearing your opinion on the deal I struck with Seti Ashar regarding this planet."
"For the vessels?" Xillin asked.
"Yes."
"I think it is a logical solution to the resource problem we are currently facing. It should allow us the time we need to refine our havest and recycling systems so as to mount a spacecraft construction operation, without having to fill an order for vessels." The young man shrugged. "I'm not sure why you are asking, sir. I'm sure you'd hear the same answer from any that you asked."
Alius smiled slightly, nodding. "Yes, I'm sure." And, he was right; any Gen would return that same logical deduction. All but a few. "Have you and the rest of your council selected a member of the Republic Militia to carry out this task, as you were instructed?"
Xillin frowned. "You told us only to select the most worthy candidate for an important mission. You cannot possibly expect to carry out an invasion by use of only one man. That is suicide. We will have to revise the candidate selected to account for that -- losing our most useful soldier from the RM would not be acceptable --"
"Yes. You see, Officer, you think, but you do not think ahead. Like so many of your kind, that is your critical flaw. You have no vision. You understand the Flood Principle, do you not?" Alius asked.
"It was one of the first principles taught to me." Xillin replied. "The Gens can act like a virus, attacking and infecting areas. Upon a successful conquest, the conquered city or planet is mined for its resources, all of the humans enslaved, and whatever materials unnecessary are burned for energy, and a GenProduction plant is erected. In order to achieve differentiation among the forces produced, each human is copied and modified repeatedly, and the plant begins producing workers and soldiers. The workers continue to gather resources, raising a force from the very people who were conquered. Then, the army can achieve further conquest, and repeat the process, each city becoming a gestation sack for more soldiers; a virus."
"Yes, a virus." Alius smiled. The elemental truth of humanity's slash-and-burn attitude towards their environment; the one essential truth that almost none of the would accept. Alius had; he'd accepted it, and refined it. Refined his instinctive nature to be the perfect tool. "And, according to the Flood Principle, how many infectors are needed for successful conquest?"
"One." Xillin said.
"And you have no faith in the system, despite your teachings?" Alius stood, approaching the younger man, glowering down at him. "None at all?"
Suddenly, the pangs of fear showed through Xillin's iron resolve. A movement of his Adam's apple, the glisten of sweat on his face. "I -- wouldn't go so far as to say that, sir --"
Without warning, Alius grabbed the back of the man's head, slamming it into the glass desk in front of him with all of his near-infinite strength. In fact, the glass was bulletproof, but it didn't stand up to the strength of the Terreyosian People's Republic's Chancellor. Pulling the officer back up, his face covered in blood, Alius grabbed the back of his shirt and threw him into the wall, which he struck with a thud. Alius turned toward him quickly, punching out with his fist and all of the force his Gen muscles could muster. With a crack, his fist tore through flesh and bone and cartelage, striking straight through Xillin's chest, covering the wall and the ground with blood and gore. Alius grabbed the dying man's head, then, and thrust it into the wall, hard enough to obliterate it, spilling blood and gray matter over the wall.
Alius left the battered corpse in a heap, in a pool of its own blood, and walked from the room.
The invasion would begin, soon, and there'd be no incompetance impeding it.
"Yes, sir." The officer replied, looking down at his datapad. "We've got a readout of all cities on the sector of Adumar you specified, as well as their population-versus-defense statistics."
"Good." Alius look at the officer. He was young -- only around seventeen, in terms of human maturity. More incredible, he was only around a week old in actual time. Alert, strong, intelligent, aware; everything that you could never count on humans to be, this Gen was. And he was only one of a million; one of a million created by the abundant resources of Mors.
Abundant, but quickly waning. The fires of industry were quickly consuming the fuel which Mors was prepared to yield to the Terreyosian People's Republic. After the victory over Verrakeye, the enslaved humans of Mors, newly turned away from their position as the brutal dictators of Mors, the conversion of the planet to a world of war, a well-oiled machine of destruction, was swift. Throughout the planet, Gen Production Facilities had been raised -- often in the core of cities, as the centrepiece; the driving force behind all acitivity throughout. Mining facilities were erected, and the ground drilled for its precious fuels; many cities were deconstructed entirely, their contents burned for energy. Of course, all the cities which were burned were human cities.
Mors had been fully converted. Into a weapon.
But its surface, now pocked by craters of exhausted mines, covered in cities built to house the rapidly-increasing Gen population, and filled with Gen Production Plants where the conquered humans worked to produced revised versions of themselves, was slowly ceasing to yield harvest for the endless fields of cloning cylindars and factories. The process, Alius thought, had not yet been refined -- they were, after all, new to this business. It was running on technology built a thousand years ago for an utterly different purpose.
The other problem presented by this, of course, was the massive amount of resources needed to contruct spacecraft. "You know, Officer Xillin," Alius said, "I would be interested in hearing your opinion on the deal I struck with Seti Ashar regarding this planet."
"For the vessels?" Xillin asked.
"Yes."
"I think it is a logical solution to the resource problem we are currently facing. It should allow us the time we need to refine our havest and recycling systems so as to mount a spacecraft construction operation, without having to fill an order for vessels." The young man shrugged. "I'm not sure why you are asking, sir. I'm sure you'd hear the same answer from any that you asked."
Alius smiled slightly, nodding. "Yes, I'm sure." And, he was right; any Gen would return that same logical deduction. All but a few. "Have you and the rest of your council selected a member of the Republic Militia to carry out this task, as you were instructed?"
Xillin frowned. "You told us only to select the most worthy candidate for an important mission. You cannot possibly expect to carry out an invasion by use of only one man. That is suicide. We will have to revise the candidate selected to account for that -- losing our most useful soldier from the RM would not be acceptable --"
"Yes. You see, Officer, you think, but you do not think ahead. Like so many of your kind, that is your critical flaw. You have no vision. You understand the Flood Principle, do you not?" Alius asked.
"It was one of the first principles taught to me." Xillin replied. "The Gens can act like a virus, attacking and infecting areas. Upon a successful conquest, the conquered city or planet is mined for its resources, all of the humans enslaved, and whatever materials unnecessary are burned for energy, and a GenProduction plant is erected. In order to achieve differentiation among the forces produced, each human is copied and modified repeatedly, and the plant begins producing workers and soldiers. The workers continue to gather resources, raising a force from the very people who were conquered. Then, the army can achieve further conquest, and repeat the process, each city becoming a gestation sack for more soldiers; a virus."
"Yes, a virus." Alius smiled. The elemental truth of humanity's slash-and-burn attitude towards their environment; the one essential truth that almost none of the would accept. Alius had; he'd accepted it, and refined it. Refined his instinctive nature to be the perfect tool. "And, according to the Flood Principle, how many infectors are needed for successful conquest?"
"One." Xillin said.
"And you have no faith in the system, despite your teachings?" Alius stood, approaching the younger man, glowering down at him. "None at all?"
Suddenly, the pangs of fear showed through Xillin's iron resolve. A movement of his Adam's apple, the glisten of sweat on his face. "I -- wouldn't go so far as to say that, sir --"
Without warning, Alius grabbed the back of the man's head, slamming it into the glass desk in front of him with all of his near-infinite strength. In fact, the glass was bulletproof, but it didn't stand up to the strength of the Terreyosian People's Republic's Chancellor. Pulling the officer back up, his face covered in blood, Alius grabbed the back of his shirt and threw him into the wall, which he struck with a thud. Alius turned toward him quickly, punching out with his fist and all of the force his Gen muscles could muster. With a crack, his fist tore through flesh and bone and cartelage, striking straight through Xillin's chest, covering the wall and the ground with blood and gore. Alius grabbed the dying man's head, then, and thrust it into the wall, hard enough to obliterate it, spilling blood and gray matter over the wall.
Alius left the battered corpse in a heap, in a pool of its own blood, and walked from the room.
The invasion would begin, soon, and there'd be no incompetance impeding it.