Chapter 870: Brilliant Stars (Twelve)

We have only manufactured three mother mold cores, so the launch must not fail…

General Luo Si looked at the old general standing on the stage, who spoke in a resolute tone: "Over these five years, we have poured in countless manpower and resources, ultimately producing the mother mold core and the launch device capable of sending it near the Sun…"

At this point, Luo Si noticed that the two generals in the front row had grown pale.

In fact, Luo Si knew exactly why.

The Red Gate Orchid Plan was called extermination, but in truth, it was merely using a superweapon as leverage to negotiate with mutants.

At the time, Professor X and Magneto held overwhelming military superiority; the armed forces coveted that power but could extract no benefit from them, so they decided to create their own bargaining chip.

Yet five years ago, humanity struggled even to send a probe to Mars; developing a device capable of striking near the Sun was pure fantasy.

The Red Gate Orchid Plan was proposed under precisely such technological constraints; back then, the military's upper limit for weapon radiation range was merely the Solar System.

They believed that if they could deploy a superweapon near the Sun, it would permanently solve the mutant problem.

For the first three years of those five, they poured in unimaginable wealth, pooling the budgets of all three branches of the military, just to barely construct this absurdly expensive device.

To understand why it was so costly, one must begin with the so-called mother mold core.

"Mother Mold" was a super artificial intelligence developed by the military; using various coercive methods, they forced numerous technologically skilled scientists to surrender their research, then combined these technologies to create a super AI.

But even all the AI researchers they could gather combined were no match for Stark alone; thus, this super AI was inferior to JARVIS, with one fatal flaw: it required a special core to house its immense computational power.

Though the special core appeared small in the blueprints, its scale must be measured against the size of the entire Red Gate Orchid base.

In the design, the Red Gate Orchid base was meant to hover stably near the Sun, with a volume roughly one-hundredth that of Earth.

The core installed within the base stood nearly as tall as a twenty-story building, and most of its components required vibranium.

At that time, vibranium was astronomically expensive; the military wept as they emptied their last reserves, barely managing to produce three cores—two of which were simplified versions.

What happened afterward, many people know: about three years ago, Shiler arrived in this world, and Earth, like a runaway horse, surged wildly down an unknown path.

Shiler slammed the accelerator, hurling humanity into the space age; Iron Demigod accelerated further, turning the entire Solar System into human territory within reach.

The military never dreamed that their grand plan now looked like a clown act.

Back then, they were remarkably visionary: given humanity's development pace, touching the Sun would take centuries or millennia; if they could establish a base near the Sun with advanced technology, they could not only threaten mutants but also fulfill greater ambitions.

Driven by this motivation, the U. . military unleashed boundless potential, especially the T'al Tu faction, whose creed was always: "The military is more than just the military."

The plan, which had run smoothly for the first three years, though a voracious gold-eating beast, had made steady progress—the core was built, the launcher completed—then Iron Demigod descended.

From then on, Stark, plagued by paranoia, suddenly seemed to awaken, beginning to hand out technology like confetti.

If rockets couldn't reach orbit, no problem: if one fell the day before, the next day he'd deliver a suite of design schematics as a gift from nature; if satellite orbits were unstable, no problem: just launch it, and someone else would maintain it.

In the following years, Stark became a hundred-billion-dollar subsidy machine: whether you had the capability to explore space or not, if you wanted to explore, he'd solve the technical problems.

After Shiler's Iron Curtain descended, other nations quickly realized: if they didn't rush forward to grab their share of the cake, they'd be left eating scraps; amid explosive global enthusiasm for space exploration, lunar landing within a month, Mars exploration within three months, solar energy development within half a year…

In just over a year, humanity's attitude toward the Solar System transformed utterly: once, "I am of the Solar System"; now, "The Solar System is mine."

Under these circumstances, launching something near the Sun seemed novel—but now, every nation on Earth had either already launched something, or was planning to; even if you could anchor yours there, everyone else would catch up eventually; if you dared to fire, no one would escape unscathed.

Even more devastating for the military was that when they built those cores, vibranium prices were at their peak; to hedge against inflation, they stockpiled vast quantities.

Now, due to the widespread adoption of molten steel, producing the same device cost only one ten-thousandth as much.

Moreover, due to explosive technological growth, the technology from five years ago was now generations behind, meaning they only now had enough confidence to launch their outdated launch and transport systems into the intended orbit.

And even that wasn't certain—they still had to ask Ross's daughter for data on Mercury's vicinity to avoid being shot down by Mercury Base's defense weapons.

Thus, the military became the pioneer of humanity's Solar System exploration—though "pioneer" wasn't quite right; they led, but never drove.

Chasing highs and selling lows is human nature; this launch was forced upon them: launching now might still win over factions hostile to mutants' involvement in Solar System projects, gaining their goodwill for future support.

Thinking of this, Ross glanced at the screen displaying the transporter's image; he had to admit, compared to today's sleek, almost sci-fi equipment, this thing looked hopelessly outdated—launching it now, other nations would think Russia had started archaeology again.

But it was too late to turn back; they had to push forward. At least, launching it added another bargaining chip for negotiations with mutants—perhaps they could recover some losses.

Ross glared bitterly: when negotiating with those hated mutants, he'd make them bleed—otherwise, how could the military recoup its losses?

On launch day, the skies over New York were clear; all generals waited at the launch center, standing behind the high-rise glass walls, watching the large monitor displaying the launch feed, when a researcher approached and said:

"We've pre-launched satellites to monitor the device's status along its flight path; once the rocket lifts off, the generals will see its trajectory…"

The lead general nodded, then turned his gaze back to the screen. The countdown ended; the rocket roared skyward.

Though outdated by today's standards, it was vastly different from conventional rockets: ignition was shorter, acceleration faster—in an instant, the rocket vanished from the screen.

The screen switched to a view above Earth; the distant streak of the rocket stirred excitement in the younger generals, but the seasoned generals in the front row frowned and said:

"What's that in the upper right corner of the screen? Is the screen dirty? No, it's moving…"

"That… looks like a sphere? Am I seeing things? It's glowing too…"

"The rocket! The rocket's heading straight for that sphere!"

No—it's the sphere blocking the rocket's path! Move it out of the way!

With that final shout, the screen flashed blindingly bright, then dimmed; as it faded, an explosion erupted, shards of the rocket scattering everywhere.

In an instant, fire illuminated the pitch-black sky; now, the stars of the cosmos blazed brilliantly.

"What happened?!"

The lead general roared: "What did the rocket hit?! Why did it disintegrate?! Why didn't the device detach earlier?!"

Soon, a pale-faced researcher ran over and said: "S-sorry, Admiral! We didn't detect a piece of space debris—possibly leftover from previous launches by various nations…"

"This debris was compressed from specialized equipment, with abnormal gravitational pull, causing our device to fail to initiate safe separation, so… so…"

The old general glared at him, eyes blazing: "You're saying our expensive core is completely destroyed?!!"

The researcher's legs trembled, but he finally gritted his teeth and nodded: "Yes… but fortunately, we intended to launch a simplified version first as a scout; so we lost only an incomplete core—the most important one hasn't been launched yet…"

The old general's expression eased slightly, but his face remained dark: "If this happens again, you know the consequences. The Red Gate Orchid Plan cannot fail. Prepare for another launch!"

After another week of preparation, the rocket launched again—this time, it smoothly approached Mercury along its planned trajectory, then moved toward the Sun.

When this scene was monitored, the generals' expressions finally brightened; Ross heard a colleague whisper: "We've reached this far—there shouldn't be any problems now, right?"

"Is the device preparing to deploy? I think this distance is ideal—look, there's the Mercury Base…"

"The device has exited the casing! Hurry! Deploy it! If the base anchors, half the plan is already a success…"

Amid murmurs, the final payload casing detached; the device prepared to unfold in place.

Just as everything proceeded smoothly, a blinding laser suddenly appeared, slicing the screen in half.

The generals instinctively shielded their eyes; when they opened them again, the partially deployed device was gone.

Everyone froze. After a long silence, the researcher shouted: "We've been attacked by an unknown weapon!"

Someone destroyed our research device!

This is an attack!

This is an attack!

"What's going on?!" the old general roared. "Who attacked our device?! Is it Stark?! Contact him immediately!"

After a moment, the researcher rushed forward: "General, our device was struck by an unknown weapon. According to observations, it wasn't Stark's equipment—the Mercury Base's defense weapons never activated…"

Ross stepped forward urgently: "It couldn't have been the Mercury Base's defenses—we already obtained the authorization code and avoided the main weapon's firing range; it couldn't have been neutralized so silently…"

"Then what the hell happened?!"

The old general's chest heaved; he was losing his composure.

After all, as the plan's originator and executor, he knew better than anyone how much money they'd lost in those few seconds.

"Find out who fired!"

The old general's voice nearly shattered the glass wall: "We will make them pay—make them understand what a stupid thing they've done!"

"Yes! They must pay tenfold, a hundredfold!"

Someone echoed.

"Go find out who did this! Hurry!"

"We must declare war on them!"

At that moment, another researcher ran over and said:

"According to the black box's signal, the energy signature of the weapon that destroyed our device closely resembles the Bifrost that previously appeared on Earth—suspected to be an Asgardian fleet weapon…"

The generals, moments ago brimming with righteous fury, fell utterly silent.

According to the black box's returned signal, the energy signature of the weapon that destroyed the equipment was very similar to the Rainbow Bridge that previously appeared on Earth—suspected to be a weapon from the Asgard fleet...

The generals who had just been filled with righteous indignation fell silent instantly.