The HEL interface - Marcellus had no idea who named those programs, but obviously, that person didn't had a lot of good tastes -, was one of the most revolutionary machine ever created. It allowed a human brain to interact with a machinary interface as if they were extensions of the human body. The possibilities of military applications were obviously, endless. Imagine, a single human being, a base commander, sitting on his chair, his eyes suddenly becoming every camera within his facility, hearing everything, being able to process all this information, and act in accordance, being able to shut down selected doors as one would do a motion with a finger.
However, Marcellus and the scientists who first pioneered into this domain quickly realized the limitations of HEL; no normal human being was able to connect with it because the amount of information uploaded and downloaded within a human mind was simply too fast, so fast, it was determined to be nearly lethal. The human brain was simply not used to such great amount of information pouring in and out, desiring to analyze each in detail before sending out an impulse - it would drive anyone using it crazy, at least, whenever it was up-linked to anything more complicated than a wheelchair.
There was no way however to exploit the interface at its full potential, and such a development would be wasteful if spent solely for the purpose of cybernetic healing. The federal government spent billions in its researches in the hope it would produce an efficient weapon. And Marcellus wasn't one to resign himself in defeat.
It was determined that, roughly speaking, only two options were available; either they made the HEL interface so overloaded with sub-systems so it could link with a human brain to its own speed - which was in no way possible for no machines could follow up the speed at which the human biological functions evolve so randomly, and so precisely; or, they could simplify the brain, so it could accepts the large input and output of information from the interface.
It was determined that instead of trying the impossible, they'd rather try the never done before - at least, definitively not in those modern times...
Brutally switch off large area of brain cells of a human being.
"Colonel, the men are anxious. There's open talk of... well, the moral is low. And these men, they don't make it look any better, sir. With all due respect, we all demand at least some information on what is going on!"
Torsten looked up from the screen, raising an eyebrow. 1st Lieutenant Lutz, 715th division of engineering. A promising young man with a future in either a warship, or maybe a fine work in the yard. It would be a shame to stain such a clean paper. The aging colonel sighed, gestured for the man to get at ease and sit down. There used to be a time, he would not of allowed such passionate a tongue speak, certainly not at him, and certainly not against the authority in charge. With age, he looked upon life with a more relaxed manner.
"Son, to be perfectly honest with you, I dislike it as much as you do... especially that, in this case, it's not even the military whipping the horse..."
He waved loosely in the direction of the office modules of the station,
"It's those darned civilians in white coats and round glasses. Bookworms."
"Then we should demand explanation from high command, at New Berlin! We are a classified military unit, who are those civilians to-"
Torsten raised a hand, sighing,
"They were sent by New Berlin. And their mouths, are tight shut, even more than those of the docs here."
"Our leaders being secretive to their own secretive components, huh?"
"Not safe to say those words, lieutenant. But it seems so. Something very important is happening here, and they want none to know about it."
A moment of silence went by.
"What do you know then, colonel?"
Torsten couldn't manage to laugh, although it felt very dry even to his own ears.
"And why should I tell you that, son?"
"Because, sir, I need to tell the men something, anything, to keep them busy. So they can finish this... whatever we are building here."
"Very well. I'll tell you what I've managed to siphon out of the white coats..."
Torsten pushed on the ventilation switch and filled his old pipe with tobacco.
"Turn the dish 7 degree downward, ja? Too much interference..."
"Already done that, kapitan. It's the nebula, we can't get any signals through it."
"Very well. Call it off, we are turning back home. Send message to HQ, new formation of Walker Nebula seemingly separated from main body, and drifting toward Frankfurt, possibly Munich. Last encountered unknown large metallic mass, unknown identification."
"Jawhol. Team leader won't be pleased."
The ship captain sighed, cracking a cigarette as his vessel turned around in the dense golden nebula. The large Behemoth class starship began trembling, part of it cracking under the intense magnetic and electric activity of the nebula, but the crew was used to it. 10 years of profesionnal rescue operations in the far border of Rheinland hardened the men to these dangers.
"Poor bastards. Hope the other teams got more luck than us."
"Even if they found anything, it'd probably be corpses. They didn't have oxygen for that long."
The captain sighed. Missing Kruger mining ship that got lost in an unexpected drifting nebula, two weeks of searching along with federal teams, and still nothing...
"Brace brace brace!!!"
Alarms began blaring as all the lights turned red. The captain immediately dropped his cigarette,
"All power to shield, all fuel to retro-rockets, fire them u-"
The last thing the man saw was a huge wall of steel coming straight toward his ship as they crashed on it. A wall of steel on which were marked the numbers "818".
And then, everything was explosion, crashing, his crew flying around and bouncing off walls, tossed like toys, and everything went dark as something that looked like a chair stumbled on his head.
Name: KM P-818
Affiliation: Kaiserlichemarine, Border Flotilla VII (Rheinland Imperial Navy)
Type: P-810
Class: Panzerschiff Heavy Battlecruiser
The captain groaned, as he read through the datapad handed to him, but still managed to smile.
"Well, we didn't rescue nobody, but what one hell of a catch..."
"Ja. This is some antiquity... I didn't even knew these things still existed... but continue reading, it's amazing."
P-818 was the 18th heavy battlecruiser of its class. Designed as a long range warship capable of independent operations, it was assigned to border patrols where it served Rheinland at intercepting smugglers and pirate groups - it is estimated P-818 sunk over 10 million tons of ships in its times, before mysteriously disappearing barely 3 years after its comission.
Somewhere in 751 AS, an exploration crew found several emergency capsule pods seemingly from P-818 in an area between the New Berlin Star and the Frankfurt space, each of which contained the corpses of the crew. The boat itself has never been found and remained to date one of unfortunately many disappearance of border vessels mysteries.
"Well, seems like the end of the journey for a long lost ghost ship... she'll be happy to be shown the way back home, for sure..."
The captain sighed, nodding.
"So... what's the word on propriety rights?"
"Militar taking charge of it. Officially, the boat is still theirs... you know how they are about the internation laws..."
"True. Well, it's not like something we could of sold off easily anyway... and the soldiers, they say they have plans for it..."
"Won't be seeing her ever again, that means..."
"You bet... scrap yard, probably..."
The two men chuckled, both somewhat sadenned they couldn't keep such a worthy prize, as they watched the heavy cruiser being towed away.
"Why would they refit an antiquity though? That thing hasn't been operated in centuries..."
Torsten chuckled, puffing out a circle of smoke before continuing.
"Back in the days, Panzerschiff were classified ships of incredible efficiency. They received no names, because it made them harder to track. Those girls, they can handle a lot of punishment, have an arsenal that was basically endless and were perfect for what they were doing. Some lived through two, maybe even three centuries, and only returned to berth for some minor fixing and update on the electronics."
"It was said, their armor was so thick, no energy bean could penetrate it, projectiles richocheted off its steel skin, and its thundering cannons were the largest of the time. The mere mention of their name made the scums living in the borders of our land shiver with fear..."
"Unfortunately, when the 80 years war started with GMG, the foolish high command decided these vessels would be put at the frontline, given a role of first line artillery along with the rest of the fleet... none of the two hundred or so Panzerschiff Rheinland operated back then were spared, and were destroyed..."
"Now, barely anyone still remember these mighty ships existed, long eclipsed by the generations of the heavy battleships... the production of these vessels were halted right before the 80 years war, and never restarted, because of their immense cost, both in material and men... and the Daumann division that built these ships ceased to exist sometime after the collapse of the empire."
"This would be the last version of the P-800 series of heavy battlecruisers... I wonder what is it they are going to do with it now..."
It somewhat felt like raising a child all over again, and in that, Marcellus found some comfort in knowing that well, ultimately, he was still doing something humane.
But he was raising a full grown woman to be... a... what?
A weapon.
A cold, efficient machine that would execute commands without even knowing why she was doing it - not that, at this point, she even cared for a reason. Sometime, she'd show curiosity for one thing or another, but it was simply to clarify a task demanded upon her or to confirm something. She lacked... pure, simple curiosity.
As soon as the first stage was confirmed on being succesful, they wasted no time to begin the "reconfiguration" of her person. They prepared her by physically training her, pushing her to her body limits, running for inhumane amount of time, doing simple, dull conditioning. Any normal human being would of protested being pushed to such ridiculous performances, but she did so with no complaint, even though her body showed signs of fatigues. After all, much of physicaly exhaustion was purely in one's mind...
Their subject having, basically none to herself...
He figured that if he treated the girl like one of those androids, he'd have no such trouble with his conscience, but the truth was, when you watched a woman of flesh and blood, felt the warmth of her skin when you guide her through the experiments they had to perform on her, watched her, even behind the glass of an observation room as she take a bath, sleep, eat like she was a mere subject of observation, nothing could erase the fact that a month ago, he sawed this young woman fight for her life, being defiant toward any form of authority, burning with a passion to live and be independent...
Now? She'd be meaningless without someone looking after her, giving her daily injection of chemical to overide "meaningless" memories in her system... She could care for herself, but then it'd be a life of animal - worse, because even animals have a secondary purpose, that of procreation, while she only functionned for survival by herself.
"Eugen? The Marshal sent you a letter." one of his associate arrived in the lab, along with a datapad in his hands, his eyes still barely open from waking up so early in the morning.
"What it says?"
Over the year, Marcellus knew that messages coming down from important military officers spawning pages of inks could be resumed in just a few sentences, and he was quite unfond of them wasting his precious time, especially during experimentation.
"Nothing important. Congratulations are in order, he promises he will command us for a medal or something, a new facility for our next stage is being assembled somewhere in Stuttgart... oh and yes, we have the official designation for the girl."
"Yes? What is it?" he sighed a bit, "I was getting used to calling her Anna... we'll have to teach her all over again..."
"Ja, you won't like it. Same ******* naming our projects, seems like now he's into numbers... she's now officially, 818. Nothing more, nothing less."
![[Image: PrincessSignaturecopy.png]](http://i930.photobucket.com/albums/ad144/Korolia/Gallia/PrincessSignaturecopy.png)