“Why haven’t they locked you up as war criminal,” asked the man in a uniform across from Salthuin. They sat in a rather spacious conference room. The chairs were comfortably apportioned however the table itself as well as the walls were merely functional. The phone was bulky and looked out of place next to a flat disk which sat in the center of the table.
“Although I would like to say that your superiors had the best interests of humanity at heart,” the warrior replied simply. “I think it more likely it can be attributed to greed.”
“So instead they gave you the city you destroyed and we have to work with you?”
“If you want your race to survive, yes.”
“So what can you offer the United States?”
“Naturally we need to work on your technology base. Unless I manufacture it directly, you have no means to create anything I give you the plans for. Even your computers take up an entire room and can only do simple calculations. It hurts my brain to even contemplate it.”
“Nonsense, what good is a computer? We need weapons to deal with this Emperor of your.”
Salthuin simply looked at him blankly. Intellectually he knew that it really wasn’t this person’s fault, but the ignorance was appalling. So short sighted but it was something he should have expected. Hopefully Alduin had taken this into account during his projections or they would not be able to meet the deadline. Their technology was so primitive that the Prime Calculator couldn't even hack into it.
“Alduin is… printing,” Salthuin began slowly, with an ill look on his face. “Plans for factories to build the base technology industries. We chose to start with silicon-based semiconductors. If we plan it right we can move on to more advanced materials in twenty years. He is also printing manuals to train in the technology and science.”
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“If this Emperor is as terrifying as you say, we need weapons immediately!” The middle-aged man huffed excitedly.
“Anything you are capable of making would be useless against the Emperor’s forces,” Salthuin countered mildly. “Your… President has agreed to follow our plan. Your technology will advance as quickly as we can encourage it. It has been projected that if we move too fast your economy may collapse.” It still may collapse, but at least it would be able to recover. “We have some stores of bioenhancers. Since you won’t be able to create these until approximately the time of the invasion, we will use these to enhance the baseline of your race.”
“You can give us super soldiers?” the man perked up, a look of delight on his face.
“Yes,” the rebel sighed in disappointment. “I can give you super soldiers. Most of their enhancements will be dormant since it needs a specific technology to trigger and train the greater abilities.”
“What can I expect,” the liaison eagerly enquired.
“After the original incubation period…”
“What do you mean incubation?”
“It's a retrovirus. Did you think you can use cybernetic technology at your level? You're barely a Class 2 civilization. By the time you can use it, you won’t need it.”
“What's a retrovirus?”
The General stared at his visitor. Alduin had assured him that the terminology was appropriate for the technology level. Apparently, this person simply wasn’t knowledgeable on such things.
“It's like a flu that gives superpowers.”
“That's seems too good to be true,” the man replied dubiously.
Salthuin silently reached out with two fingers. Pinching the table lightly between them he easily lifted it a half a meter off the ground.
“Since we have no means of triggering the advanced features all you can expect is an increase of five times a human's strength, a bit more endurance and redundancy in the organs. Once in place, the basic functions can be triggered through some meditation exercises.”
“This will catapult our armed forces into the lead,” the man muttered gleefully to himself, forgetting for the moment his request for weapons. “But… what is meditation?”
Salthuin tiredly hung his head.