P19 – Wolverine Shipyard
Dual Hemisphere-Omni Support Vessel – 78% Complete
⸻
Silas POV
Twelve years…
Twelve long years since I came to this place.
When I first woke up inside Gaia, I never thought it would end like this.
I never wanted to be a leader.
And yet here I am.
Running a civilization.
Not from behind a computer screen.
Not from a strategy game.
But in real life.
Making real decisions.
Carrying real responsibility.
And somehow…
I'm actually having fun.
Not all the time. It has its downsides.
But building something from nothing?
Watching people grow stronger?
That part feels right.
Athena appears in a shimmer of blue light beside me, her hologram stabilizing through our newly activated HPG network.
We now operate two communication grids:
• Civilian network
• Encrypted military clan network
And layered above it all — my own version of a public HoloNet.
Yes, I took inspiration from Star Wars.
Holographic communication discs.
Real-time projections.
Visual presence instead of just voice.
It makes Athena feel more real.
More alive.
Athena:
"Father. Status report from Team Zeta."
That pulls me back instantly.
Silas:
"Go ahead."
Athena:
"As ordered, Team Zeta completed a two-year reconnaissance mission outside our system. Using one Archangel and escort elements, they scouted 72 systems."
72.
That would've taken years more with standard Inner Sphere drives.
Athena continues:
"Four of those systems belong to a regional power known as the Marian Hegemony."
Marian Hegemony.
I don't remember much about them from the games.
To be honest, I barely finished those campaigns.
The only one I actually completed was the Smoke Jaguar campaign in Battle Clans.
Everything else?
Half-remembered lore.
I tap my datapad as Athena forwards the files.
Silas:
"Anything else?"
Athena:
"We captured a merchant vessel affiliated with their territory. I've forwarded the relevant data."
I scroll.
And the more I read…
The more irritated I get.
They're basically space Rome.
Legions.
Imperial structure.
And slavery.
Actual slavery.
I feel my jaw tighten.
I was American in my first life.
Imperfect country.
Plenty of flaws.
But freedom wasn't negotiable.
Owning another human being?
That's sick.
That's primitive.
That's inhuman.
And now I have enough power to do something about it.
Athena watches me carefully.
Athena:
"Father… I recommend we begin limited strike operations once our fleet is ready. Border systems only. Slave extraction. Low exposure."
Of course she would say that.
She's aggressive in simulations.
Calculated.
Practical.
And she inherited my moral compass.
Silas:
"I agree with the goal."
Her holographic expression shifts slightly.
"But not yet."
I look back out at the construction frame of the Dual Hemisphere-Omni Support Vessel.
Seventy-eight percent complete.
"By 3020 we'll have the personnel and fleet mass to sustain operations outside our borders."
"We move too soon, we expose ourselves."
"Aggression is our best weapon… but so is patience."
Athena nods.
"Understood, Father."
She smiles faintly.
I think back to the DMI program.
Digitized Mechanical Intelligence.
The foundation:
• Brain scan of a human
• Neural architecture digitized
• Converted into a functional AI core
• Learns and evolves
• Develops personality over time
Athena was the first success of Project Brainchild.
Inspired by Halo AIs.
Inspired by Cybran from Supreme Commander.
I scanned my own brain.
Used it as the template.
Created Athena.
She matured rapidly — seven months of learning was enough for her to develop distinct personality markers.
She calls me father.
She's not a tool.
She's Clan.
More DMIs are in development now.
They've been relocated to the completed hemisphere sections of the Omni Support Vessel.
That part of the ship is already functional.
It houses:
• AI development chambers
• Processing lattices
• Industrial modeling cores
• Fleet coordination systems
The science division oversees them.
Athena mentors them.
They won't be alone much longer.
—///—
Five months to the new year.
Tanya POV
Damn you…
Damn you…
Damn you…!!!
Being X.
I roar it in my mind.
Second life wasn't enough for that twisted self-proclaimed god.
So now I'm on my third.
And I still have the same face I wore in service to the Empire.
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. The body of a girl that looks harmless.
At least this time I'm taller.
Stronger.
And not standing in a trench waiting for artillery to erase me from existence.
I scan the training grounds.
Cadets everywhere.
Obstacle courses.
Live-fire drills.
Close combat sparring.
Sim pods running full immersion scenarios.
Each class rotating between fields, each unit under the watchful eye of Sibko commanders who may as well be drill sergeants from hell.
Honestly?
It feels familiar.
Boot camp is boot camp, no matter the universe.
And despite everything…
Being X hasn't shown his face once since I arrived here.
Not a whisper.
Not a divine miracle.
Not a smug sermon.
Good.
My previous life as a mage in the Imperial Army gave me an advantage here.
The Clan calls it "Newtype sensitivity."
Psychic potential.
Reflex amplification.
Predictive cognition.
Low-level telekinesis.
To me?
It's just another battlefield tool.
Most of the other Newtype warriors can:
• Predict movements a fraction of a second ahead
• Hit targets blindfolded
• Barely levitate small objects
Impressive.
But limited.
My application is cleaner.
More efficient.
I enhance my body.
I run faster.
Endure longer.
Take more punishment.
And yes…
I can levitate.
That little reveal earned me a fast trip to the science division.
Probes.
Needles.
Scanners.
They kept me for a day.
I made it very clear I have zero intention of becoming a lab rat.
Thankfully, Clan Wolverine isn't as backward as the Empire.
They study you.
They measure you.
Then they let you go back to training.
Efficient.
My telekinesis is stronger than most of my peers.
I can move objects effortlessly.
Small weights feel like paper.
Metal rods bend if I concentrate.
I keep that mostly quiet now.
No need to stand out more than necessary.
I'm already top of my class.
Which, frankly, is irritating.
Because standing out means expectations.
Expectations mean attention.
And attention means risk.
Within two years, we take our Trial of Position.
Final evaluation.
That will determine:
• Rank
• Division placement
• Badge color
• Authority level
Unlike other Clans, we can refuse a placement.
Take a different path.
Transfer divisions.
That flexibility is the only reason this society doesn't disgust me.
Not like the Rhine front.
Not like the Empire.
My goal?
Simple.
Rise quickly.
Earn a respectable badge.
Secure a logistics command position.
Rear lines.
Supply chains.
Fleet coordination.
War is won by logistics.
Frontline glory is for idiots who enjoy dying.
But to earn that "cushy" position?
I need battlefield credentials.
Which means…
I have to be a soldier again.
How ironic.
There's another realization I've come to.
And unlike my former superiors…
The Khan doesn't appear incompetent.
Visionary.
Dangerous.
Which means staying under him is strategically wise.
"Theodore: Attention, cadets!"
The field snaps to stillness.
"Training session for the day is over. Report to your barracks and wash up. Lessons and the cadet trip to the shipyards begin in three hours. Do not be late. Dismissed."
"Sir, yes, sir!"
We break formation.
Despite the intense physical strain…
This feels no different than the Imperial Academy.
As I jog back toward the barracks, one thought lingers quietly in the back of my mind.
Being X hasn't shown himself.
Not once.
Which means either:
1. He can't interfere here.
2. Or he's waiting.
And if he's waiting…
I'll be ready this time.
Let him watch.
I survived artillery barrages.
I survived trench warfare.
I survived divine sabotage.
Now?
I have psychic power.
A growing Clan.
Advanced technology.
And a leader who doesn't waste soldiers for vanity.
This world might actually be worth staying in.
…for now.
—///—