Post by Methus on Mar 14, 2019 13:23:22 GMT -6
Glowing on the viewscreen floated the monolithic sight of Vegeta. Red skies wrapped around the distinctly continental world, with snaky landmasses wrapped around the planet, separated by rolling oceans. Saiyans lived all throughout the surface, primarily in cities, and dominated all over life on the surface. It was, perhaps, the greatest seat of power in the known universe. From what Methus learned, as he sat in his cushioned chair and watched the clouds roll through the skies of the alien world, the leaders of these people possessed such raw power as to be able to destroy entire planets with their own strength.
Despite his best efforts, Methus’ mind could not comprehend the scale of that feat. The absolute peak of his destructive power, even now, could level entire cities in a flash of red light, and little more. Yet, from what he heard, individuals—made of flesh and blood, just like him—possessed the strength necessary to turn an entire planet into a freshly-created asteroid belt.
It was like telling a stone age civilization that their planet was round. It simply did not compute for the red-eyed, small-time Emperor.
Methus sighed and sat back in his chair. That exact situation, the realization that he and his people were even more wildly outmatched than they realized, changed things. It changed things enough that Methus, once they left Namek, reached back out across the void and used his new vessel’s communications technology to get in contact with Phaethon. He spoke with Thenia and Temi once again, caught up on the goings-on of his empire back home, and told them everything that happened since he arrived here.
Everything.
They simply needed reinforcements. Methus could not do this alone, and his plans to conquer an entire, major world and then bring his fleet over simply did not prove practical anymore. Instead, he sent along the designs for the even-more-efficient intergalactic propulsion systems these vessels had, along with designs for gravity simulators, and ordered their immediate implementation, and the dispatch of a squadron of soldiers to join them. He insisted that the first vessel sent to join them must have each of the soldiers training in enhanced gravity the entire way over—it would be the only way to overcome the gap in strength.
The first vessel was set to arrive in orbit of Vegeta. The soldiers would remain onboard and the commander, a powerful Phaethonian of a genetic minority, would board to greet his Emperor and join the crusade to conquer the rest of the universe. A man by the name of Phoebus, Methus has been told. Tall, golden hair, great strength relative to his own people. He was the soldier that uncovered the unique abilities of the particularly genetic-throwback sect he was born from, and how their bodies responded to moonlight exposure.
Phaethon no longer had its own moon but, supposedly, once did, many millions of years ago. No doubt, this Phoebus descended from part of their ancestral species that responded to the presence of that moon and any strange effects it bestowed on them.
Methus turned his attention back to the view screen and the distantly-orbiting moon that even Vegeta fathered. The idea that an innocuous ball of rock could have such an affect on a creature baffled him. Strangely enough, his people had no legends of such creatures in the distant past, nothing to suggest that what happened to Phoebus might have happened to any other species in Phaethon’s far-flung history.
“Sir?” One of the Saiyan woman, with great trepidation in her voice, spoke up. Methus turned to her—short, dark-haired, one of the soldiers they hired using currency conveniently acquired by his resident, divine assistant. “Commander Phoebus’ ship has arrived in orbit of Vegeta. The crew on that end has…impolitely informed me that they will be docking.”
Methus chuckled at the news. It sounded like a vessel of Phaethonians to his ears, that much was certain.
“Welcome them aboard,” he said as he stood from his chair and flattened the violet jacket against his chest and the shirt underneath. “I’ll meet them in the bay. We have much to discuss, changes in plans to make.”
Originally, he and Inna planned to go to Konats, conquer it. Now, Methus worried that they might run into a single foe there they could not overcome, and his entire military would be put at risk for it. He couldn’t afford to gamble his entire foothold here on a single world, not yet. They needed smaller locations under their control, something to build up their presence in this galaxy first, before a full-scale invasion got launched.
Then, even if the worst should happen, they would not be out of luck entirely.
“Oh, and, helmswoman?” he turned his attention back to her just as he stood in front of the sliding doors to the lift. “They didn’t mean to be impolite—they’re just in a good mood.”
She smiled at the explanation, “Hearing that makes me feel right at home, sir.”
Despite his best efforts, Methus’ mind could not comprehend the scale of that feat. The absolute peak of his destructive power, even now, could level entire cities in a flash of red light, and little more. Yet, from what he heard, individuals—made of flesh and blood, just like him—possessed the strength necessary to turn an entire planet into a freshly-created asteroid belt.
It was like telling a stone age civilization that their planet was round. It simply did not compute for the red-eyed, small-time Emperor.
Methus sighed and sat back in his chair. That exact situation, the realization that he and his people were even more wildly outmatched than they realized, changed things. It changed things enough that Methus, once they left Namek, reached back out across the void and used his new vessel’s communications technology to get in contact with Phaethon. He spoke with Thenia and Temi once again, caught up on the goings-on of his empire back home, and told them everything that happened since he arrived here.
Everything.
They simply needed reinforcements. Methus could not do this alone, and his plans to conquer an entire, major world and then bring his fleet over simply did not prove practical anymore. Instead, he sent along the designs for the even-more-efficient intergalactic propulsion systems these vessels had, along with designs for gravity simulators, and ordered their immediate implementation, and the dispatch of a squadron of soldiers to join them. He insisted that the first vessel sent to join them must have each of the soldiers training in enhanced gravity the entire way over—it would be the only way to overcome the gap in strength.
The first vessel was set to arrive in orbit of Vegeta. The soldiers would remain onboard and the commander, a powerful Phaethonian of a genetic minority, would board to greet his Emperor and join the crusade to conquer the rest of the universe. A man by the name of Phoebus, Methus has been told. Tall, golden hair, great strength relative to his own people. He was the soldier that uncovered the unique abilities of the particularly genetic-throwback sect he was born from, and how their bodies responded to moonlight exposure.
Phaethon no longer had its own moon but, supposedly, once did, many millions of years ago. No doubt, this Phoebus descended from part of their ancestral species that responded to the presence of that moon and any strange effects it bestowed on them.
Methus turned his attention back to the view screen and the distantly-orbiting moon that even Vegeta fathered. The idea that an innocuous ball of rock could have such an affect on a creature baffled him. Strangely enough, his people had no legends of such creatures in the distant past, nothing to suggest that what happened to Phoebus might have happened to any other species in Phaethon’s far-flung history.
“Sir?” One of the Saiyan woman, with great trepidation in her voice, spoke up. Methus turned to her—short, dark-haired, one of the soldiers they hired using currency conveniently acquired by his resident, divine assistant. “Commander Phoebus’ ship has arrived in orbit of Vegeta. The crew on that end has…impolitely informed me that they will be docking.”
Methus chuckled at the news. It sounded like a vessel of Phaethonians to his ears, that much was certain.
“Welcome them aboard,” he said as he stood from his chair and flattened the violet jacket against his chest and the shirt underneath. “I’ll meet them in the bay. We have much to discuss, changes in plans to make.”
Originally, he and Inna planned to go to Konats, conquer it. Now, Methus worried that they might run into a single foe there they could not overcome, and his entire military would be put at risk for it. He couldn’t afford to gamble his entire foothold here on a single world, not yet. They needed smaller locations under their control, something to build up their presence in this galaxy first, before a full-scale invasion got launched.
Then, even if the worst should happen, they would not be out of luck entirely.
“Oh, and, helmswoman?” he turned his attention back to her just as he stood in front of the sliding doors to the lift. “They didn’t mean to be impolite—they’re just in a good mood.”
She smiled at the explanation, “Hearing that makes me feel right at home, sir.”
