From Idler to Tech Tycoon: Earth

Chapter 137: Preparation for Descent
Chapter 137: Chapter 137: Preparation for DescentThe air within the underground launch bay of the Bytebull headquarters thrummed with a suppressed energy, mirroring the quiet anticipation inside the CRVT - Richie. With a silent grace, the sleek black starship, streaked with its vibrant lime-green accents, began to slide forward along colossal, unseen magnetic rails. It was a marvel of engineering, effortlessly traversing the massive tunnels that stretched into the earth’s unknown depths.

On the Richie’s command bridge, a sleek, minimalist space devoid of traditional windows, Richard settled into his captain’s chair. The seat, ergonomically sculpted and upholstered in soft, durable white fabric, swiveled smoothly, granting him a panoramic holographic view of their egress. Lina stood beside him, her cyan eyes scanning the displays that floated in the air before them. Her fingers danced across invisible controls, a flurry of motion only she could perceive. ”All systems nominal, Sir Richard,” she stated, her voice calm and precise. ”Navigation matrices, active and passive sensor sweeps, stealth system integrity, engine diagnostics, thruster vectoring, life support readouts, and quantum communication links. Every critical system confirmed operational.”

Richard nodded and then sighed, a soft, almost imperceptible sound as he observed the simulated external view. The irony wasn’t lost on him. ”It’s like going to space,” he murmured, ”but I’m just going to Brazil.” He leaned back, his gaze fixed on the swirling blues and greens of the planet projected before them.

”We could build our next base in orbit, or on the Moon... but it’s too dangerous. We don’t know the full extent of the Krill’s reach. For all we know, they could have bases on the Moon, Mars, Phobos, or even tucked away in the asteroid belt. We’d be spotted before we could even secure a foothold.” He shifted, a grim set to his jaw. ”So, to be on the safe side, Brazil it is.”

The ship continued its upward journey. A large, unseen opening materialized in the ceiling of the tunnel, just beneath the surface of a secluded lake. The water, a shimmering expanse above them, was held at bay by a powerful inverse gravitic field, a silent, invisible barrier preventing a cataclysmic flood.

As the Richie’s own gravitic systems seamlessly kicked in, the vessel began its ascent. From the perspective of any unsuspecting human on the surface, there would be no ship, no obvious breach—just a sudden, inexplicable rise in the lake water, an unholy swelling of the surface before it settled back into place.

The Richie, cloaked and invisible, ascended rapidly, punching through the upper atmosphere and reaching an altitude of 30,000 feet before its powerful engines fired up. A faint, almost silent roar barely rippled the stratosphere as Lina set their destination for the Amazon rainforest.

The journey would be long for a starship standard cruising the planet’s atmosphere. The Richie was a marvel, but it lacked a subspace drive for instantaneous, short-range travel. While its warp drive allowed for faster-than-light interstellar deployment, warping directly into an atmosphere was an extremely risky maneuver, capable of destroying the atmosphere itself—a tactic only a madman, or someone intent on planetary destruction, would attempt. For now, they cruised at normal speeds, streaking across the sky.

During the long, solitary hours of the journey, Richard turned to Lina. ”Lina, is the Mind-Echo Cognitive Interface ready?”

Lina nodded, her movements fluid and precise. She retrieved a sleek, minimalist headset, crafted from dark, smooth polymers, and handed it to him. It looked almost like a fashion accessory, belying its profound capabilities.

Richard placed the headset over his temples. It seamlessly connected to the ship’s internal network server, a direct conduit to Lina’s vast processing core. His task was crucial: to digitally transfer specific blueprints and knowledge he had acquired from the System directly to Lina for her intensive study.

The automated gene therapy blueprint, the Omni-Adaptation Protocol gene mod—these were vital for Ciano and his future forces. And the Localized Grav-Levitation System experimental prototype, the risky gamble from the System Shop. Richard hoped Lina, with her unparalleled analytical prowess, could stabilize it, perhaps even improve upon it.

He mused on the vast chasm between the System’s inherent, cosmic knowledge and the most advanced human-derived technology. He thought of the anti-gravity technology developed by the US military, which he knew was inspired by Nikola Tesla’s early principles, leveraging electromagnetism with ”Element 115” as fuel. Lina, with her advanced AI capabilities, had already taken this very human-derived tech, made it vastly scalable, and significantly increased its energy efficiency, a testament to her inherent superiority.

AI is indeed scary in some ways, he thought, acknowledging Lina’s unsettlingly brilliant capabilities. Yet, he also recognized it as an ally and a loyal subordinate.

Deep within the Richie, sequestered in his luxurious quarters,

Ciano waited for orders. The ship’s opulent interior—white walls, warm polished wood, silent automation—made it feel more like a super-yacht than a formidable warship. His ”window” was a high-resolution monitor connected to external cameras, currently displaying their breathtaking altitude.

He could just make out the curved horizon, the deep blue fading into the velvet blackness of space above them. For him, a boy from the province of Baguio, this was pure, unadulterated fantasy made real.

A quiet desperation fueled his movements. He began to work out, pushing his muscles, sweating, feeling the burn. He felt a deep, gnawing need to prove his self-worth in Richard’s employ. A security detail, especially for someone as formidable as Richard, should be stronger, more capable of significant assistance. He longed to be truly useful, to earn his place in this impossible new world and to somehow atone his misgivings on his past as Mario.

His gaze fell upon the replicator in his room, an immediate source of fascination. He could request any food or drink. Driven by curiosity, a mischievous grin touched his lips as he decided to test its limits.

”500. Cigarettes,”

he said, his voice deliberately deep, mimicking a movie character. With a soft hum, the replicator’s chamber glowed, and then, a precisely stacked pile of cigarettes appeared. Ciano chuckled, picking one up, feeling as though he was now truly living in the future.

The luxury, the unfathomable technology, the sheer, quiet power embodied by Richard and his creations—all of it solidified Ciano’s burgeoning loyalty. He realized that if Richard planned to recruit more men for his cause, it would be utterly foolish for anyone to betray him. No one would ever want to leave this life; indeed, he didn’t even want to retire. His current existence is infinitely better than any pension or comfortable old age he could have ever imagined.

Ciano silently affirmed his continued support for his family back in the province. His 100,000 pesos monthly salary, a significant sum for a ”security detail,” is more than enough for his own needs. He meticulously sent the entirety of his salary to them, routing it through layers of untraceable digital transactions under the guise of a ”secret beneficiary,” ensuring they remained blissfully unaware that their long-lost kin was not only alive but thriving in a world they couldn’t possibly conceive.

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As the Richie effortlessly cut through the upper atmosphere, slowing its immense velocity, it finally halted thirty thousand feet above the sprawling, emerald canopy of the Amazon rainforest.

Within the Richie’s sprawling cargo bay, Lina had already initiated the first phase of their mission: fabricating the initial components for the automated gene therapy facility. From unseen access points along the bay’s ceiling, multi-limbed AMFS drones, silent as predatory birds, detached and hovered gracefully. They descended towards colossal atomic feedstock reserves—glowing, transparent tanks filled with raw, unrefined molecular structure.

The drones dipped their manipulators, drawing sustenance, before hovering back to designated assembly points. Piece by intricate piece, they began building, fabricating component to component, their movements precise and unwavering. Remote-controlled androids, directed by Lina’s superior networked intelligence, then seamlessly assembled these newly printed parts into larger modules.

An hour later, the core fabrication of the automated gene therapy unit was complete. The sleek, compact modules now awaited the next critical stage: the development of the Omni-Adaptation Protocol gene mod serum.

Lina explained the process with her usual clinical precision. ”Unlike generic gene mods, the Omni-Adaptation Protocol requires meticulous chemical production within a specialized sterile lab. This is where the complex biochemical processes will commence. The serum itself is not merely a chemical; it is a precisely engineered compound designed to alter specific gene sequences within the human DNA, integrating the new gene mod.”

She activated a holographic display, showing intricate molecular diagrams. ”The process is incredibly painful for the subject, necessitating complete unconsciousness. Rewriting DNA is a trauma far worse than mere radiation decay that destroys genes. Therefore, a series of stabilizing serums will be critical to maintain the subject’s physiological integrity throughout the procedure, keeping the body stable and preventing fatal rejection.”

She continued, ”We will also be developing additional integration serums to counteract potential rejection responses, should the primary stabilizing agents prove insufficient. My remote android units are already working around the clock, in shifts, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, to create the very first batch of this serum.”

Richard listened intently. He knew the risks. He also knew Lina had prepared for this, pulling resources and knowledge from unexpected corners.

”Thankfully,” Lina continued, a rare, almost imperceptible note of satisfaction in her voice, ”I had prepared extensively. I managed to discreetly acquire the full schematics and operational data for the ’super soldier serum’ that was utilized by the Echo-Legions. This information was extracted from various Krill-controlled human black sites—places where they developed such enhancements, often using desperate homeless individuals as test subjects, and unfortunately, classified a significant number of their own marines and soldiers, often those from conflicts in Iraq, Syria, and across the Middle East, as ’killed in action’ to cover their disappearances.”

Richard’s jaw tightened. He knew about those programs, hushed whispers in the System’s vast database.

Lina affirmed his unspoken thought. ”Their ’super soldier serum’ was, however, vastly inferior. It was rudimentary gene editing, fraught with dangerous, unpredictable side effects. All those poor soldiers were merely disposable tools, neurally controlled and sacrificed without a second thought. But it provided valuable foundational data for my own refinement process.”

Richard nodded slowly, the grim reality settling in. His gene therapy, born from the System’s profound knowledge and Lina’s genius, would be vastly superior, devoid of the barbaric side effects and ethical compromises of the Krill’s human puppets. This was not just about making Ciano powerful; it was about reclaiming human potential from those who exploited it.