The First Superhuman: Rebuilding Civilization from the Moon

Upon hearing the term "convergent evolution," the other biologists immediately plunged into an animated debate. They had previously been entirely focused on studying the strange algae in the alien oceans, but this new discovery completely captivated them.

Initially, everyone was deeply shocked by the striking resemblance between the native inhabitants of Planet Digg-114 and humanity. However, that shock quickly morphed into intense excitement.

Looking physically similar wasn’t a major issue, provided their underlying genetic makeup was fundamentally different...

But if... if their genetic material was actually identical or highly similar to human DNA, the scientific community would absolutely lose their minds!

The universe was an endless well of mysteries, and it was precisely these thrilling unknowns that fueled humanity’s burning desire to explore the cosmos.

"...If only we could get our hands on a sample to analyze their genetic material! They’ve only been dead for a little over a decade; we could easily extract intact cells!"

"...What if their genetic structure actually matches ours?" one scientist asked, his mind racing with the possibilities.

"Highly unlikely. Did you miss the part where they have tails?"

Down in the lower atmosphere, several experts aboard the vanguard frigates began clamoring to bring the mummified corpse aboard their ships for immediate genetic sequencing.

Naturally, recovering biological material from an alien world required authorization from the fleet command. When the request was relayed back to the Titan-Z, Security Minister Austin firmly rejected it. He insisted that now was absolutely not the time to be bringing unknown, potentially hazardous biological materials aboard.

This flat denial sparked a wave of quiet, frustrated complaints from the eager scientists.

Right in the middle of this commotion, the Alpha Security System aboard the Titan-Z suddenly flagged a minor Level 6 Danger Anomaly.

The Alpha Security System was a specialized, weak artificial intelligence developed over the past few years specifically to monitor the defensive perimeters of the fleet. Within the Federation’s digital infrastructure, it possessed extremely high operational authority. If any of the ship’s other AI subroutines encountered a computational conflict, they were programmed to instantly yield to Alpha.

At that exact moment, the Alpha Security System had detected several highly unusual, fast-moving points of light hidden deep within the thick cloud cover over the oceans of Planet Digg-114.

Because these thermal blooms were relatively small and obscured by the dense clouds, the AI couldn’t immediately identify them. They were tentatively categorized as extreme weather phenomena, like ball lightning, and assigned a routine Level 6 Danger rating.

Typically, Level 6 reports were incredibly common and rarely considered important. After all, when monitoring an entire planet, strange sensor ghosts were bound to happen. A cloud formation might momentarily mimic the radar signature of a missile, or a massive marine creature breaching the surface could trigger a thermal alert.

Because the sheer volume of planetary data was too massive even for a quantum computer to process instantly, these low-level reports were automatically filtered into a hierarchical queue. If the system performed a secondary risk assessment and found no actual threat, the alerts would simply vanish.

However, this particular Level 6 alert did not disappear. Within ten seconds, the threat assessment was rapidly upgraded to Level 5 and automatically pushed to the tactical displays of the frontline Federation Marines.

Simultaneously, the AI tasked multiple orbital satellites to converge and focus their optical sensors on the anomalous coordinates.

Down in the frigates, the crew was still reeling from the discovery of the human-like aliens, so very few paid any attention to the flashing Level 5 alert. A group of Marines was busy arguing over the ethical implications of fighting a species that looked exactly like them.

Would it lead to war? Ethnic cleansing? If they ended up fighting and killing a species just because they shared a similar face, wouldn’t that make them no better than the perpetrators of the darkest genocides in human history?

Several Marines finally noticed the flashing danger report on their monitors. They clicked on the data feed, but instinctively hesitated.

"What is this? These thermal blooms... the computer’s predictive analysis is suggesting they might be surface-to-air missiles?"

"It’s probably just ball lightning or a sensor glitch..." another Marine muttered. They hesitated, deciding not to immediately notify their commanding officers.

Since the points of light were still overlapping with the dense cloud layer, it really could just be a severe electrical storm. They figured it was likely a computer misjudgment and wanted to wait for the satellite retargeting to confirm the unknowns. The thought of facing Austin’s legendary wrath over a false alarm made them second-guess themselves.

Less than half a minute later, the threat level spiked to Level 4.

A Level 4 alert was severe enough to trigger the ship’s audible alarms, prioritizing itself above all other data queues. A series of sharp, urgent beeps echoed across the bridge.

The Marines finally snapped to attention and seriously analyzed the telemetry. The multi-angle satellite feeds showed that the points of light had violently pierced the cloud cover and were rapidly accelerating straight toward the vanguard fleet in low orbit!

In an instant, pure terror seized the crew!

One of the quicker-witted Marines panicked, slamming his fist onto the emergency combat override while simultaneously relaying the data packet to his captain, who instantly bounced it back to the Deep Space.

But the manual warning was already redundant. The threat level had skyrocketed to Level 3, and the critical alert forcibly hijacked the main viewscreen on the bridge of every ship in the fleet.

The Alpha Security System declared an active combat scenario. Leveraging the emergency military authority it had just been granted, the weak AI instantly calculated firing solutions and launched 127 point-defense interceptor lasers down toward the surface of Planet Digg-114!

It was only at this exact moment that the senior staff finally realized what was happening. Austin, the overall commander of the operation, was still staring at the Level 3 alert on his screen!

It was a stark satellite image.

Captured from a high orbital angle, a cluster of brilliant thermal signatures was tearing through the upper atmosphere, dragging long, white contrails behind them like old-earth fighter jets.

However, the telemetry data told a terrifying story. These projectiles had cleared the clouds and were currently traveling at over Mach 25, bearing straight down on a Leviathan frigate!

The closest projectile was only 400 kilometers away.

Danger Level 3: Imminent lethal threat!

"What the hell is that? Are those missiles?!" The moment Austin saw the data, his heart leaped into his throat.

For a primitive civilization, only heavy intercontinental ballistic missiles or multistage space rockets could achieve velocities like that! And the five Leviathan frigates were hovering at an altitude of barely 800 kilometers!

"Damn it!" Austin roared.

In the blink of an eye, before the human crew could even issue a vocal command, the automated war between the Federation’s AI defense grid and the unknown enemy had already begun.

The heavy defense lasers fired from the Titan-Z instantly ionized the thin upper atmosphere, creating blindingly bright columns of solid light. Fortunately, at this extreme altitude, atmospheric interference was minimal, allowing the lasers to retain enough thermal energy to melt through an ICBM’s casing.

BOOM!

A laser travels at the speed of light, making a target moving at Mach 25 look like it was standing still. In a fraction of a second, an incoming ICBM was successfully intercepted, resulting in a blinding nuclear detonation.

A miniature sun suddenly flared to life in the upper atmosphere of the planet, shining brilliantly against the darkness of space. Because the warhead had been compromised and detonated unconventionally outside of its optimal firing sequence, the explosive yield was less than one-tenth of its intended capacity.

"Oh, shit!"

Austin leaped out of his command chair, his eyes watering as the intense flash of the nuclear blast pierced the viewscreen’s auto-dimming filters.

This damned, primitive civilization actually dared to launch a preemptive strike against them!

Why?!

A flurry of thoughts raced through his mind. Could it be that this primitive species had actually fought a war against an advanced interstellar civilization in the past, making them insanely paranoid? Or did they foolishly believe a sudden ambush could wipe out a Federation spaceship?

A nuclear warhead had just detonated less than 400 kilometers from his closest ship, that was a lethal proximity!

Refusing to let his guard down, Austin immediately moved to authorize a devastating orbital counterattack. But his fingers hovered over the launch console, hesitating for a fraction of a second before pulling back.

He couldn’t just blindly launch nuclear retaliatory strikes right now. They still hadn’t identified the actual enemy targets on the ground.

Worse... his five escort frigates were sitting directly in the crossfire. If a full-scale orbital bombardment commenced, he needed those ships to evacuate first!

The 127 automated interceptor lasers were clearly insufficient. Due to the extreme range and evasive maneuvers of the missiles, only three lasers successfully found their marks. The rest sliced harmlessly through the empty air.

However, the three intercepted nuclear missiles served as a terrifying wake-up call for the five Leviathan frigates below.

The sub-security systems aboard the frigates had received the Level 3 alert from the Titan-Z a second before the nukes detonated. Operating on pre-programmed survival protocols, the onboard computers automatically fired the main thrusters, desperately accelerating to evade the remaining incoming ICBMs.

One moment, the crew had been totally engrossed in exploring the alien ruins; the next, their ships violently lurched forward. The crushing G-forces pinned everyone directly against the bulkheads, rendering them completely immobilized. Some crew members were thrown upside down against the walls, their eyes bulging from the intense pressure.

All the while, the sub-security systems blared overhead, urgently demanding that the human captains issue tactical commands. They were under active attack!

The intercepted nuclear detonations hadn’t possessed enough raw kinetic force to damage the fleet, but the resulting electromagnetic pulses were severe. The chaotic radiation instantly scrambled their satellite uplinks and severely disrupted short-range comms between the spacecraft.

On the bridges of all five frigates, the tactical displays simultaneously dissolved into a mess of static.

The rookie crews were stunned, completely clueless as to what was happening. All they could hear was the deafening blare of the security alarms.

Even a seasoned veteran like Marcus was caught off guard. For a split second, he actually thought the ship’s AI had gone rogue. This kind of sudden, violent disruption had never happened before.

"Damn it all!" Marcus roared, snapping out of it two seconds later.

As a true veteran of the Federation Special Forces, he rapidly overcame the paralyzing confusion that grips most people during a sudden ambush. His tactical instincts took over.

"We have hostile enemy! Return fire—No! Run! We have to run!"

Struggling against the G-forces, he manually overrode the safety limiters, elevating the Alpha Security System’s privileges to maximum. He rapidly inputted a single, overriding command: Evacuate the combat zone at maximum thrust!

It was an incredibly wise tactical decision. Once a Leviathan frigate engaged its main particle engines and achieved high sub-light velocity, a primitive missile traveling at a mere Mach 30 stood absolutely zero chance of catching it.

Furthermore, they had the super-spacecraft Titan-Z providing top cover. If a full-scale firefight broke out, these lightweight frigates needed to get the hell out of the way.

With its particle engines burning white-hot, Marcus’s ship violently accelerated, breaking orbit to escape.

However, while Marcus’s ship fled, the other four frigates merely executed standard, localized evasive maneuvers.

The young, inexperienced captains aboard those ships were completely overwhelmed by the sudden outbreak of war. Blinded by panic, they frantically ordered their crews to fire interceptor lasers and even authorized the launch of a tactical nuclear missile, detonating it in mid-air to catch the incoming projectiles, which only spawned another massive electromagnetic pulse.

Up on the Titan-Z, Austin was absolutely furious. The fresh wave of EMP interference had just completely blocked the retreat commands he was trying to broadcast to them.

"Run! You absolute idiots!" Austin screamed at the static-filled command screen. "Why the hell are you firing your own nukes?!"

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