From Idler to Tech Tycoon: Earth

Chapter 110: Even Aliens Are Junkies
Chapter 110: Chapter 110: Even Aliens Are JunkiesChancellor Krill Shuha’dar listened, an immense, fifty-foot silhouette against the distant, silent horror of the human pods. He heard the remaining pairs of reptilian nobles present their harvest reports, his patience a thin veil over an underlying impatience.

These were the smaller geological scales, the less prolific territories: Krill Vark and Krill J’dara from the Philippines, Krill Zyth and Krill Kor from Cuba, and other countries geopolitically linked to the USA, all falling under the direct oversight of Krill Khian and Krull’Kahn.

Their reports, while not the lowest, placed them firmly in the mid-to-lower ranks of the monthly harvest. The Chancellor’s focus was always on macro-level efficiency, with these smaller, more difficult zones grouped under broader supervision.

While the other nobles were consumed by the grim accounting of harvest numbers, Krill Khian and Krull’Kahn’s internal thoughts drifted to their own long-term, far more revolutionary plans.

Despite their modest 19th rank in the current monthly harvest, they considered themselves, and were considered by a select few, to be true geniuses among the Krill, owing to their independent initiatives. They mentally reviewed their groundbreaking developments.

Their primary breakthrough: a bio-neural implant, designed for wide distribution, promising remote, precise control over human populations. This, they knew, would ensure compliant ”cattle,” eliminating the unpredictable variables of human societies and their frustrating, messy inconsistencies.

Their second major project: synthetic wombs. These, they envisioned, would allow for mass-scaled, consistent, and fully controllable production of humans, completely removing any reliance on natural human reproduction cycles or their inconvenient societies. It was the ultimate solution to the ”quota” problem – a factory for Anu-blood, bypassing all the complexities of interacting with a free-willed species. It was a testament to their inherent arrogance, their complete dehumanization of the species they preyed upon.

They acknowledged, in the privacy of their shared mental space, that much of this cutting-edge scientific development wasn’t their own inherent Krill genius. Instead, it was a repurposed manifestation of human ingenuity and intelligence.

They often mused on how terrifyingly effective a human could be when developing scientific tools, even for malevolent purposes. For the Krill race, true scientific development had never been a strong point; they had always outsourced it to slave races under them. Automation, a concept humans embraced for efficiency and (what the Krill perceived as) ”pure laziness,” was still alien to the Krill’s more physically driven, conquest-oriented culture.

This was their most guarded secret. They recognized that if they played their cards right, leveraging this human ingenuity, they wouldn’t need to fear or rely entirely on their home empire in the Draco constellation. They understood, with a chilling clarity, that while physically weak, humans were the true ”predators” in terms of cognitive capacity and their absurd rates of technological advancement.

Automation itself was still a new concept even in their spiral arm of the galaxy, a concept they would never inform their empire about for fear of revealing their own independent power base. They knew humans possessed at least a 5% percentage of Anu blood, which had fueled their empire’s longevity. But the true potential they feared was the human capacity for pure destructiveness and chaos.

They recalled human sci-fi movies – specifically Star Wars’ Death Star and Starkiller Base. Even if these were mere fictional fantasies, they conceded that it would not be an overstatement to believe humans could build such weapons given enough time and resources. This outlines the internal conflict and ambition of Khian and Kahn; they were playing a dangerous double game.

Chancellor Shuha’dar, having concluded the individual reports, silenced the chamber with a mere shift of his immense weight, the subtle movement sending a fresh wave of oppressive psychic energy through the room. He revealed the true, pressing reason for the increased production demands.

”My Lords, Apostles,” Chancellor Shuha’dar’s voice boomed, resonating with a power that vibrated through the very bones of all present. ”The increased production demands are not merely for efficiency. The Emperor God-Krill Mainu himself has decreed the necessity of a heightened influx of Anu-blood. The war against the Federation of Planets... it is on the horizon.”

A collective, barely perceptible shudder rippled through the assembled nobility. A galactic conflict. The stakes had just escalated far beyond mere resource management.

”Anu-blood is our heart,” the Chancellor continued, his gaze sweeping over them. ”It fuels not only our longevity, but various enhancers that strengthen our bodies, augment our musculature, and form the basis of our advanced medical kits.

It is, critically, God-Emperor Krill Mainu’s own lifeline.” Anu-blood was revealed as the core, multifaceted resource that sustained the entire Krill empire, from individual enhancements to the very life of their supreme ruler. Its importance was paramount.

Shuha’dar’s voice, though powerful, now carried a rare note of caution, almost a warning. He did not press for immediate, forced production that could lead to human self-destruction. ”However, we must proceed with extreme prudence. Human societies wiping themselves out is the gravest threat to our supply. The Great Flood... the catastrophe that followed ’Atlantis’ discovering our presence... must not be repeated. That wiped Earth clean. We had to wait for millions of cycles for humanity to repopulate this world, and thousands of our Krill kin perished in the interim without the sustenance of Anu-blood.”

It was a shocking historical reveal, tying into human myths and explaining a past catastrophe as a direct consequence of the Krill’s previous mistakes. It highlighted their absolute dependence on humanity and their profound fear of losing this vital resource.

”Now, the threat of their ’nuclear fire’...” the Chancellor’s voice dropped, a low rumble of dread. ”If they destroy themselves with such means, the damage might be irreversible. It could be the very end of our Krill race. We are now utterly dependent on Anu-blood.”

In simpler terms, human blood was their opium.

A collective, subtle sigh, unspoken but deeply felt, rippled through the assembled reptilian nobles as Chancellor Krill Shuha’dar’s decree concluded and the heavy weight of his draconic aura began to recede, allowing them to depart.

The air, thick with power and expectation moments before, now thinned, and the lesser nobles, who had endured the agonizing pressure of his presence, moved quickly towards the exits. Krill Khian and Lord Krull’Kahn, however, remained composed, their expressions unreadable as they followed the departing throng. The relief was a transient thing, a brief respite before the next phase of their relentless, horrifying duties.

Their purposeful strides carried them away from the ornate chamber, through the stark, functional corridors of the lunar base, towards the starport section. The utilitarian design of this area contrasted sharply with the grand halls of the Chancellor, the echoing vastness of the spaceport punctuated by the low hum of atmospheric processors and the distant clang of cargo being secured. Here, the raw mechanics of their interplanetary operations were laid bare.

Awaiting them on the bridge of a human-built vessel was McKnight, their human ”pet” – a term Khian and Krull’Kahn privately reserved for their subservient human agents. McKnight offered a crisp, efficient salute, his expression as devoid of emotion as ever.

”My Lords,” McKnight stated, his voice flat and precise. ”Awaiting your command. I have an update from the Human Weapons Development division. They’ve announced a significant breakthrough.”

Khian and Krull’Kahn exchanged a fleeting glance, a flicker of apprehension passing between them that they quickly suppressed. Even for them, the human specialization in weapons development was a constant source of unease, a peculiar facet of this species they simultaneously exploited and underestimated.

They internally reflected on the ”crude core Krill technologies” they had imparted to their human scientists: merely basic knowledge of warp bubble generation, a phenomenon common in the Orion Spiral Arm, though never full schematics, and rudimentary mining laser technology. They had hoped humans wouldn’t weaponize them in unexpected ways.

McKnight continued, displaying holographic schematics that shimmered in the air before them. ”Their latest development, based on the directed energy principles, is a weapon that fires coherent light at nearly the speed of light. They refer to them as ’lasers.’ To top it, they’ve achieved full automation, entirely independent of operator skill. Optimal targeting algorithms ensure absolute precision.”

Both Krill Khian and Krull’Kahn suppressed a surge of something akin to genuine fear. They knew their own plasma rifles were considered advanced weaponry among the Krill. This ”laser” concept, especially its speed and automation, was entirely new to the entire Orion Spiral Arm, to the entire collection of species living within it.

Humans considered these ”common,” a phrase that would evoke utter absurdity and disbelief from races across various constellations. The Krill were seeing their own ”gifts” turned into something far more dangerous than they had ever intended.

Just as they were processing this, a human scientist, Dr. Jamal Strowsky, appeared on the ship’s main screen, his middle-aged American face alight with an almost manic intensity in his eyes as he addressed Khian and Krull’Kahn directly. ”My Lords, a breakthrough! We’ve successfully tested a short-range warp drive. Inter-solar travel is now fully viable. We’re still working on longer interstellar voyages; the spatial harmonics for sustained high-dimensional transit remain... challenging.”

Khian and Krull’Kahn suppressed their burgeoning fears, their mental masks of composure barely holding. The Krill’s own warp drive, developed by one of their slave races, had taken centuries on their homeworld.

They hadn’t given humans schematics, only abstract knowledge and data on warp bubble generation and space-time physics. Yet, these humans, in a fraction of the time, had developed their very own warp drive. A short warp jump. Good. We didn’t want them escaping their home planet so soon. The thought provided a fleeting moment of false reassurance. Human capacity for rapid innovation, even with limited information, was truly extraordinary.

Then, Dr. Strowsky’s smile widened, a terrifying, unholy glee spreading across his face. ”But Lords, since short-range warp is only useful for intersolar travel... we’ve developed a prototype warp cannon. Initial tests are... promising.” A holographic display flickered to life beside him, showing a ship-mounted weapon, a miniature warp signature flickering at its maw.

Khian and Krull’Kahn’s composure shattered. Their forced calm gave way to raw, suppressed fury, a barely contained primal rage. Even for them, the weaponization of warp space was an unimaginable horror.

They recalled an interstellar accident within their own empire: a spooled-up Krill ship jumped right as another exited warp, resulting in the blocking ship being cut clean in half, and the jumping ship destroyed into millions of pieces, leaving behind a ripped fabric in spacetime that sucked everything in its radius, taking months to heal itself. Such an anomaly, with enough energy, could become a black hole that will suck everything and continuously grow.

Humans, Khian’s internal voice snarled, echoed by Krull’Kahn’s own horrified realization. They are the true devils. Not for their physical attributes, but for their ability to manifest pure destructiveness and chaos at an absurd rate. Even in their mere fictions, they conceived of Death Stars and Starkiller Bases. It would be no overstatement that they could build it.

As the ship began its descent through Earth’s atmosphere, its destination Antarctica, Khian and Krull’Kahn, their faces now composed once more, exchanged a silent, grim understanding. They would never inform their empire of these specific human advancements, particularly the warp cannon. This knowledge was too dangerous, too destabilizing, and too powerful to share. It was their secret, their ultimate leverage against the Empire they served, and the very species they harvested.