1996: After the defeat of the tyrants in the Eugenics Wars, corporations took the remaining equipment and technology from the laboratories they were said to originate. Strangely, several new companies, Bio Nationale and the Helix Corporation, founded companies that offered genetic services. These services ranged from gene therapy to designer babies, all of which made legal through government bribery. 2010: From rich families, many children developed at a much faster rate. Their IQ, on average, was 300 or more, making them twice as smart. Their muscles are enhanced beyond the human extreme, and they had superior endurance in sports or other activities, having the ability to play for days on end without tiring. They did, however, live to the mantle of superior ability breeds superior ambition, but they remained in business and science—places their ambition improved life. 2020: Of one of the many children, Nathenial Parnell, a university student graduating at age 13, founded Parnell Industries, a private space agency. From his theories on slipstream, he hopes to design a faster than light ship within ten years. If he does, FTL travel will become a new norm in the near future. That is, if the technology can be put into practice, unlike the theory from his doctoral thesis. 2025: Due to the massive wealth inequality caused by these new augments, a marxist group, led by the Chinese and what was left of Europe, attacked the augments, killing mostly innocent people in America. It was corporations against the governments. They responded by hiring mercenaries from America to kill the leaders of the resistance and governments, causing them to collapse from within. Most augments, even some of their normal brethren, viewed communism an affront to human nature, a mistake led by envy, and ultimately, entitlement. 2030: The world's governments were reduced; they were nothing more than small civilian communes now. Giant corporations now controlled the planet, and with the lowering cost of genetic enhancement, people got enhanced more often. The only unmodified humans left were the poor from the most impoverished areas in the world. As they were now a minority, they could pose no threat to the system—and as such, they could not compete, living mostly in the woods as scattered tribals. 2035: The slipstream drive was developed by Parnell Industries. It was a test probe, designed to survey planets for supporting human life. It jumped from Sol to a far away system that was fourty light-years away within a month, leaving it at a speed of one light-year a day. This system, like the discovery of sails by base humans, could revolutionize travel. Colonies could be built on far away worlds, improving economies, preventing overpopulation among others. 2040: The scientific community on the internet was figuring out what to call humanity as a species, with the enhancements. This was as far a jump in evolution as the homo-sapien was from the neanderthal. In a shocking turn, they decided to name the species homo-sapien II, as in honor for the races enhancements, due to the fact they were too similar to be classed as a different species. The difference was more in the lines of a breed of dogs or cats: a breed could have many advantages over others. That was simple science. 2060: The Vulcans made first contact on a privately owned colony with the owner and his gaurds. There, the Vulcans both admired and were cordial of humanity. They were as smart as the smartest scientists on Vulcan—just on average alone. Not only that, they were a lot stronger too, a major advantage physically. The caution when dealing with these humans comes from the fact they're both aggressive and ambitious, a problem that makes them potentially menacing. On a decorated elevator, Captain Jonathan Archer, the Captain of the new ship known as the Santa Maria, was waiting to get to Forrest's Anteroom. From the elevator, he could see the ship, constructed by automated drones, piece by piece. It was 1000 meters long with a width of 200 meters. It had four domes, each having hexagonal graphene shapes fused together. Front, it had beams that fired concentrated streams of anti-hydrogen at almost light speed. Surrounding it, was an array of defense turrets, each designed to destroy asteroids or incoming fighters. Soon, Archer could be responsible for 1,200 human lives. That was no easy burden. From the back transparent view, he could see Forrest's Office. It was decorated with complex GMO plants, decorated with holographic screens. It even had a painting of Forrest's face right next to... a group of familiar silk-robed figures. It looked like the Vulcans would have their filthy hands in to it somehow. They always tried to get humanity to renounce their customs of equality of opportunity—in favor of equality of outcome. Humanity knew better than to follow their twisted ideology. In fact, Archer knew that it goes against their infinite diversity in infinite combinations, so why not let humanity be unique—like the special philosophy that guides them. Things were never simple. They never were, sadly. The graphen window slide in front of him. He walked out. Greeted by the CEO of the Company, Forrest, he proceeded with the technique called poker face. "Admiral Forrest, what purpose do you have with these elves? " He paused, then added, "They seem very intent on stifling our colonial efforts." "We think that from market-controlled genetic-engineering, your species evolved too fast biologically for their own good," said the attractive Vulcan woman in the corner. She was five-foot ten, skinny, had an hourglass figure that he could plainly tell with his enhanced spatial ability under her robes. She had a pretty, symmetrical face, but the short hair was kinda masculine in his view. That beauty was what made her remark even more blood-boiling. She continued, “You are aggressive, ambitious, greedy, traits that us Vulcans got rid of when you were still smelting bronze,” she enunciated, and added, “You need to learn more restraint before—you need to be a more socially advanced species before colonizing the stars.” Archer’s right hand formed a fist. He replied, spittle dripping from his mouth, “Restraint is what’s keeping me from sending you flying six feet FORWARD!” An old, gray haired Vulcan interjected into the conversation. “You’re already proving to use that you’re volatile, Archer.” Forrest’s eyebrows cocked. He seemed rather inquisitive about the whole situation, as if the whole idea of selecting Captain Archer to head the colonization effort was poor. His service record on the Merc Dreadnought was spectacular, however. It was the old man’s intuition why he hired Archer, being a CEO with over a hundred years experience. He was old—older than most of the Vulcans in this room. Archer, on the other hand, was approaching middle-age, at seventy-two. “Archer, T’Pol, you’re going on the ship. I want you to advise the Captain. Your rank will be Sub-Commander.” He looked at Archer. “I want you to treat T’Pol like a member of your crew. You’ll need her advice so you don’t start any wars with your arrogance.” The old balding man stood up, laid his out, and gave eye contact to Archer. Archer gave him a handshake, gently, as if not to break any bones. Humans that are approaching one hundred and eighty were fragile as base humans in their prime. They are fragile, of course. As they left, Archer looked at T’Pol with a frown on his face, almost like a pouting child. This time, it wasn’t trivial, it was having a lower race talk down to him. Like most Vulcan, she exhibited the same ‘poker face-like mentality—showing no emotion—though, possibly angry. Most likely, she viewed herself superior to a race of beings superior in almost facet of biology. It was like Archer was dealing with a snooty spoiled rich that gets education for just coming out of the right twat. Nevertheless, it seemed like he was going to be stuck with her for a while, so he had to get used to it. He’d just have to listen through her psuedo-logical lectures. It would be like a bad book, like the Communist Manifesto—written by a moronic 19th century altruist—dumb even before Humanity’s genetic ascension. He did nothing on that elevator, being more interested in the terrible, obnoxious elevator music than T’Pol. By the time the elevator’s magnetic levitation deactivated in a hum, Archer smiled to meet Tucker, the engineering officer aboard the Santa Maria. He was tall, had blond hair, blue eyes, and a light tan from being raised in Florida. He was younger than Archer, roughly fivety-nine, but for a base human, that was about thirty-five. His vaguely square face gave a look of disdain at the Vulcan. “It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it?” Tucker said scoldingly. She replied, “Believe me, I’m just as uncomfortable to be a board a human vessel as you are of me commanding you.” “Anyway, let’s proceed to the ship,” said Tucker, as he led them to the shuttle bays of the station. There, T’Pol had seen the human shuttles. She saw what looks to be warp nacelles on them. She looked up, next to the emergence exit hatch. It looked to her as this species gained advanced technology quite rapidly, their development accelerating faster since the Vulcan’s discovery—even though tech was not shared. Strange. Tucker pressed a button on his PDA. The shuttle doors opened in front of him. She stood corrected. The design was pretty crude compared to the aesthetics of Vulcans, although it was well known that Humanity had hundreds of ship combinations, as several private armies and factions have their design philosophies. After they walked in, the shuttles doors closed with a low humming sound. The music played soon after; it was the Jazz music from the 1960s, slightly before the Eugenics Wars. The music provided Archer with an escape from T’Pol—that it was just him and Tucker. In seconds that felt like minutes, the ship docked to the Santa Maria, the process feeling like a thud. Archer walked out. The docking bay was a spectacle of defense drones, each drone having the ability to destroy an enemy ship, by flying at high impulse power and shooting any ships with high-powered lasers, targeting an enemy’s primary systems. They minimized casualties by allowing operators in another room take the role of fighter pilots. After his brief, microsecond assessment, Jon walked towards the nearest door to the lower deck. There, the door slid open, revealing groups of people—mostly military personal—walking around. They were there for colony and ship security. Many of them would accompany and protect the members of the colony as they live and work—a necessary evil—though the Vulcans may not agree. At the end of the metal and plastic, submarine like hallways, Archer went to the elevator. The electronic doors hummed open. Archer walked inside, along with the rest. This time, there was no music. Archer and Tucker would have to tolerate the grating ‘logical’ paragraphs T’Pol has to say about Humans. Then again, they could pretend to agree with everything, do the opposite, and use human logic. That is violence or threats of it. On the bridge, Archer looked around, only to find a chair. That chair was memory foam encased in padded Corinthian leather, an expensive seat. It must have cost the company around 3000 credits of the billions it required to build this starship, as the materials, such as hull and armor plating, were expensive, a suit of that material costing as much as a car. The Captain felt the chair, sat in it, and looked at the viewscreen. He heard a similar voice. He realized just by the tone. “Colonizing a planet on the borders of the Beta Quadrant is foolish. You’ll be setting up hostilities between humanity and several known species.” “Humanity? This mission is for the company. I answer to the company alone, not a Vulcan. Understood.” T’Pol nodded. She continued on and observed the ship. “Helmsman, take us to maximum speed—in splipstream,” said Captain Archer with a confident smile. In moments, the viewscreen was enveloped in blue. Later, as the ship’s speed increased, one couldn’t see the stars, only a blue tunnel, a quantum tunnel. The ship’s shields flared. This dimension could tear up hulls like an undersea submarine made of tissue paper, so it was a necessity for corporations to develop them for travel—strong ones too. “What’s our ETA?” asked Archer. “An hour and a half, to be precise,” replied the Helmsman. “Impressive,” said T’Pol in closest way a Vulcan can patronize. Since it was twelve o’ clock Earth time, the Captain decided to go to the Mess Hall for some much needed food. When he got there, a bunch of people were eating—mostly mercenaries hired by the Forrest Real Estate Co. They wore vests made of armor, the material monotanium. Some even had their AX3s on their backs, a most rude thing for a merc to have his armor and weapons at launch. It almost made the regular colonist afraid to eat there, fearing they’d start a fight. As the Captain approached the counter, he ordered his food. The Captain ordered a cheeseburger and fries, a Coca Cola, and waited back at the dining table. It was ten credits from his account. T’Pol, on the other hand, ordered nothing. She just sat facing captain. The Captain loved the cheeseburger. This was not an unhealthy cheeseburger, it had a higher protein content and less fat. This was one of the miracles of human genetic-engineering. They spliced beef and seafood to create a species of livestock that provides the most nutrients. Also, that coca-cola has not sugar, yet tastes like classic cola, another improvement in the field of chemistry. These innovations led to obesity being eliminated before the Marxist Wars of 2025. T’Pol said, “We Vulcans view the consumption of meat as animal cruelty, yet humans do it anyway.” “We like our food to taste good. Also, meat builds our muscles. That’s why Humans, on average, are almost fifty-percent stronger than the average Vulcan male,” he said smirking. T’Pol said in an unemotional, almost snarky tone, “That’s also why you’re fifty percent smarter as well, when in actuality, it’s modified genetics.” “Speaking of food, I can’t buy a salad since I don’t have any money,” replied T’Pol. “There’s rations,” replied Commander Tucker as he joined with a plate with two pizza slices on it. “Most appreciated,” she said and walked off. She walked out the door the Captain came in. Tucker said, “Was she lecturing about the food and the human and vulcan customs.” “Yes.” “From what I can tell, she seemed pretty emotional for Vulcan. She’s subtle, almost snarky, so she clearly has one. She also has a tendency to be challenging of authority, almost like she think she can do better or even improve upon human societies. We’re just following our nature. Personally, I think most Vulcans are either on anti-psychotics… or even hormonal therapy. From the few that got the privilege of setting foot on Vulcan, they control theirs through meditation. Total bull, if you ask me. “Yeah. You’re right, Captain. Vulcans do sound like they’re in some heavy chemical fog, unlike most humans who aren’t in an asylum. It’s rather strange in my opinion. It could also be that they’re just completely biologically different. I mean, we don’t have any Vulcans, since they pretty much stayed out of most company affairs. In fact, no company wants to talk with them,” replied Tucker. At the cold base of a Klingon military expedition, Commander Klang was observing the sky, the place that the Empire would colonize one day. The trees were like some other Klingon colonies, the life hostile like Qo’nos. One of the most dangerous species, a Jock’Teth, could kill a klingon warrior by constricting one. It was, to Klingons, a fairly hostile and honorable planet, a great challenge to train young warriors. He looked over behind him. The building, or military base, was made from a landed Klingon Bird of Pray, in order to leave a group of soldiers to secure the planet. The walls were rusted, unaesthetically pleasing, having rough brutal, ancient fortress-like look. Then again, it was normal for them to be crude, hence the intimidation factor. The whole area looked like a torture chamber, some sections being torture chambers, brigs ect. Most of these warriors were the best the Klingon Empire had to offer, their cunning the best. Many of these warriors have had killed up to a thousand Romulans in single combat, as in the more technologically advanced cousins to the Vulcans. In fact, Klang had killed a hundred enemy soldiers in a battle—that being his lowest performance. According to one source from the Romulans, through their espionage in the Vulcan High Command, the most potentially dangerous species in the Alpha Quadrant was coming to set up a colony on this very planet. This species was humanity, formed by a group of corporations and other NGOs. They’re soldiers were mercenaries. If they were mercenaries, as in soldiers for hire, Klang would relish making this race a new member in the Klingon yolk of power. Mercenaries don’t fight for glory, they fight for wealth, and depending on how much their contract would be worth, they’d give up and retreat easily. That is, if they’re as powerful as the Romulan espionage into the high command makes them out to be. They could just be another weak/average species in the Quadrant. According to the file on this species, they are five times as strong, twice as intelligent, possessing superior endurance and healing abilities compared to the average species in the Quadrant. They’re aggressive, ambitious, and outright ruthless. Most of them are arrogant too. The only thing that stops them from walking over the qQuadrant is the fact they have a profit motive, as in cling to markets and capitalism as much as the Vuclans cling to logic. To Klang, this species might as well be a myth. There was no race that could challenge the Klingon or Romulan Empires. In fact, the idea of species that went from pre-warp to transwarp in less than a hundred years seemed outright impossible. No species was that intelligent or innovative, but Klang shuddered at the idea of the information he received days earlier. It formed a pit in his many stomachs. Later, he found a strange energy signature, almost like a tunnel, open up above the atmosphere. It was on the screen. He said, “Comm Officer, what’s that? He pivoted at Klang. “It’s a vessel, one that doesn’t match our signatures, or any signature in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants for that matter.” This was troubling. Vulcan Research notes of Humanity Humans are one of the most unique species in the Quadrant. Their intelligence and physical prowess is not matched by another race, and their technology is more advanced as well. A savage race, Humans have been genetically-engineered through privately supported genetic-engineering, their abilities enhanced to well beyond the normal levels of Alpha Quadrant Species. This contributed to a rapid progression in technology—beyond that of of the Vulcans—an example being Qauntum Slipstream, a technology beyond that of the Directorate. They are as different in society as they are in physiology. The humans have no central government, instead have private enterprises and NGOs run everything. Those private companies hire mercenaries to protect their interests on off-world companies, from aliens and domestic threats. That was a problem the Vulcans think is wrong: humans are aggressive and have unbridled ambitions. They are also quite arrogant too, seeing themselves as being above other species. Nevertheless, Vulcans will not interfere with Human activities, as it interferes with Suraak’s philosophy of infinite diversity in infinite combinations. However, some in the High Command think that Humans will disturb the peace between factions, such as the Klingons, the Romulans, and other species as naturally aggressive and ambitious as they are. A/N What did you guys think? I sorta came up with a what-if scenario after reading the Khan comic. It gave me some estimations on how smart the augments are and how they could control their ambition and aggression. I did kinda make them advanced, but these are augments, not standard humans in star trek, that, from what I hear, are weaker and dumber than both the Klingons and Vulcans. I sorta noticed that Augments were more powerful than Klingons and Vulcans, both physically and mentally, so I added them in an AU fic. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, folks. For more of this story, click the link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12570508/1/Star-Trek-Colonization