We sort of expected it, but having a steady, peaceful growth was boring as fuck. The nearest raider presence was at least thirty minutes of flight time away, while the super mutants were migrating westwards for some reason instead of putting up a fight. I’ve sent eyebots to monitor the latter, but until then, the staple live training aids of the Nexus were effectively extinct within our vicinity.
So we had to resort to using the mutated wildlife, which resulted in the quarantine zone being established along a large stretch of coastline. Mirelurks were herded into that direction via prisoner bait, and their eggs relocated into their new breeding grounds. The hasty method caused a bit of a turf war as mirelurk queens had to carve out their territories.
Someone had the bright idea of monitoring the various groups of mutated crustaceans, and we got ourselves a new series that was half documentary, half betting outlet. People would tune in to the daily updates, and as the free-for-all progressed, money would change hands with each mirelurk ‘tribe’ eliminated.
Currently, it was anyone’s game between the Boston Beach Brawlers, Castle Crushers or Quincy Claws, though I personally hoped that the queen of Nahant Nasties could secure her hatchlings for just a few more days until they molt. Her brood seemed to have some cunning, though the cost of lives in pulling out weird attacks always made the victories borderline pyrrhic.
Anyway, we’ll be letting the mirelurks have their fun for a few months or so before turning the reserve area into a training ground. In the meantime, thanks to the cleared out and heavily patrolled beaches in the rest of the Nexus, I could set up prototype facilities to test ocean-scale purification systems. The aim was to figure out the most efficient filtering process to get the FEV, radiation and other pollutants out of the ocean, and since the most optimistic estimates measure the timetable in centuries, I figured it was better to start chipping away at the problem now than later.
Speaking of oceans, with our waters cleared out, I also greenlighted the construction of the Nexus’ Navy. The ships were mostly attack boats and a bunch of corvettes, with a few destroyers thrown in. Larger classes of ships were already queued up, but were far down the line due to how labor intensive each vessel was. So for now a defensive navy capable of (theoretically) turning away most threats, and a fuck-you, shock-and-awe battlefleet in maybe a decade’s time.
A merchant navy was also being built up in preparation of serving the needs of the growing coastal logistics, as well as the inevitable inter-continental travels. When I pause to think about it, having so many bots working on so many ships at the same time was truly impressive. Watching them in our new drydocks was actually awe-inspiring.
Each workstation was swarmed by its own cloud of Sentinels, almost blotting out the weld sparks while tentacles dragged in pieces or delicately set up the internal wiring. Those same tentacles engulfed completed modules as scores of Sentinels lifted bridges and hulls into place. At the rate we were going, our defensive navy would be completed by the end of the year, which would mean we’d have…two hundred or so crafts with guns on the water.
With the destroyers having a limited missile storage in them, the Nexus could now conduct coastal bombardment of a hilarious kind.
The ‘Disco’ cruise missile was something that took advantage of the ludicrous tech of this universe. It was essentially a fusion powered guided missile, stuffed with overcharged fusion cores that powered white laser emitters that stuck out throughout the missile’s structure.
When fired, the Disco would fly towards its marked target, and then once it reached its designated area, frontal laser emitters would ensure that the Disco could penetrate a substantial amount of fortification if needed. The laser emitters around its body would only come alive just a second or so before the warhead detonated, strobing brilliantly to swiss-cheese potential blast doors and such.
Then the overtaxed fusion cores would detonate with the power of a tactical nuke.
And it’s not the Fallout mini-nuke’s piddly strength, we got us a solid kiloton of big boom.
You are reading story Uncommon Wealth at novel35.com
The only problem was the collateral, so the growing stockpile of Disco missiles would only realistically be used to take out ships, condemned enemy bases, and Zetan ships (should they make a return).
Yes, upscaled versions exist, but I’m saving the strategic nukes for truly special occasions.
Like to execute the entirety of Caesar’s Legion when I meet them.
Anyway, talks of potential violence aside, I also found myself spending some more time figuring out how to manage a state that was nearly completely automated. On the bright side, work related accidents were fucking low as nobody was working in the megafactories, mines, quarries or other such heavy industries. On the other hand, we had to figure out a way to ensure that the people of the Nexus don’t end up becoming too soft and turn into over-entitled Karens.
Currently, the option with the most votes was a compulsory period of ‘roughing it out’ in a designated wasteland reserve over a period of time, say a year or two. I mean, it’s going to be way more effective than just watching documentaries, for sure, but putting people in ‘Lord of the Flies’ situations sounds like it’s setting up a few flags that would be an annoyance to deal with later on.
Owning an automated autocratic state also meant I had to ensure that my boredom didn’t lead me on to do stupid stuff. I literally owned everything - from the land, to the raw resources, to the infrastructure - due to the overwhelming monopoly of force, and I was highly aware of the fact it took a few baby steps to start sliding down the path of becoming a BBEG. So despite the annoyance of it all, I made sure to liaise with Nora and her watchgroup for everything related to internal policy making.
The lady still didn’t like me too much, but she’s respecting me more now at the very least, so I wasn’t getting the distrustful glares anymore. I’m not sure if having most policies up for votes by every eligible citizen in the Nexus aided or made Nora’s perception of me worse, but she kept giving this half-exasperated sigh when we finalized policies to be sent out for voting.
The mostly ghoul staff in her organization were also about as competent and thorough in their work, though they were far more better disposed to me since they relied on bi-monthly BSC jabs to keep their sentience from eroding. If I remember right, some of them are experts in the field, enough to be lecturers in our university. Soon I’ll end up with a new generation of lawyers and aspiring politicians.
Or as Cait and even Sarah liked to call them, blacksite fodder.
So long as they don’t start messing with my current system too much, I’ll pretend that that moniker is a joke.
Anyway, musing aside, I was still bored at ‘work’ overseeing the Nexus. Then Cabal chimed in with a sudden report.
“Urgent: Unusual behavior detected in several citizens. Order is being restored, civilian casualties have been confirmed. Updates pending further development.”
Maybe I should learn to appreciate boredom more.