Over the Martian world of Olympus sits a massive structure. A hemispherical ring stretching from sunset to sunrise above the equator casts its great shadow over the dead iron-rich plains below. Yet despite the desolate nature of the world, the station hanging above is quite busy.

  Mile-long freighters haul resources mined from nearby asteroid belts, dump their cargo into great processing bays where the metals and other materials are refined and then dispersed throughout the station through intricate networks of conveyors and zero-gravity vacuum tubes. Heavy industrial plants create alloys woven down to the molecular level, churn out armored plates for combat and non-combat vessels by the thousands every minute. Small drone tugs carry specialized materials from one part of the megastructure to the next, stopping any throughput delays for the most needed of materials. Great tankers carrying gases harvested from local gas giants bring needed fuel for the multiple reactors throughout the great structure.

  From the gaping maws of the great factory come the silent bulk of massive warships, logistics vessels, and troop transports. From man-sized swarm drones to the great battleships that stalk the void, everything is made at the great shipyard above Olympus, a massive megastructure built and run for the sole purpose of creating the big stick of free humanity. The entire complex is lovingly nicknamed "Haephestus" due to the name of the planet below and the purpose of the structure.

  Found deep within US territory, its strategic importance cannot be understated, especially as the largest and most sophisticated purely military orbital shipyard in all of human space.

  Yet, it is not the destination of the Presidential Transport, Navy 1.

  On the opposite side of the planet is a much smaller station, one where only those with special clearance or drones may transport materials, fuel, and personnel. A secret shipyard known as "Vulkan", named for the same reason as the other, larger, and more respectable station.

  The presidential shuttle, after undocking from the fleet battleship the USS Constitution, ignored the mighty station and sailed through space to the other side, to the Vulkan secret projects station. After dismounting, the President walks through the halls of the station with two marines and his Secretary of Defense following close behind. As they walk, the many workers either stand aside out of respect or pop a quick salute to the Commander in Chief as he passes. While there is proper due respect given, most of the members of the facility are civilians working for the private company known as Huntington Ingalls Industries, with only a few Coast Guardsmen working as security. Everyone here is all certified for high end classification, and their histories are squeaky clean.

  The President enters the production area of the shipyard, into one of the three production bays or drydocks as they are referred to. He passes by a surgical theater, a currently dark and abandoned place after its subject, the President's old friend, had been torn apart and stitched back together all so the man can now interface with the new type of vessel. The president cringes, going over all of the alterations done to the Rear Admiral:

  Enhanced neural interface, internal computer capacity expanded, additional hardware added to the neck and spine region.

  New spinal attachment sockets were inserted, and two more were added at the base of the skull.

  Cybernetic heart augmentation allowing for stronger circulation forces to combat g-force strain on the body.

  An internal defibrillator was added for potential heart stoppage.

  Blood flow limiters are added to the neck and lower body to limit the amount of blood flow to normal amounts to these areas, even during extreme G events.

  Extra pumps are added throughout the body to reduce newfound strain on the heart.

  All veins and arteries are lined with reinforcement materials to reduce the chances of bursting during traumatic events and high-G events.

  Skeletal reinforcement.

  Internal medical autoinjectors added.

  Internal hormone-balancing equipment attached.

  All unnecessary organs removed: Spleen, Gall bladder, Appendix.

  Mechanical alternatives for the removed organs were added, except the Appendix.

  Internal emergency blood storage system added.

  Internal emergency nutrition added.

  The digestive system is upgraded with mechanical processors, allowing for minimal waste production and maximum nutrient consumption.

  Limited nervous system blockers were added to remove FTL sickness.

  Total software overhaul for neural computers.

  An immune suppressant device was added to remove FTL sickness.

  The President shakes his head, trying to remove the thoughts of what kinds of horrors the cybernetic and biological enhancement surgeons had done. The President finds the only real gain that came from this is that Rear Admiral Hollander no longer will suffer from FTL sickness, plus all the new upgrades promised that the horrible headaches humans get from becoming overwhelmed with data when interfacing with a ship will be a thing of the past. Although the President does wonder if the needed internal hardware on the neural side is a step back or forward, since prior to the Nova-class vessels, there was no need for physical neural attachment ports in the spine or head. It had become pretty much wireless in recent years. The President catches himself rubbing the small metal disks on the bottom of his neck through his suit, a sign of his Navy career. He also feels bad since the older versions meant all the ports can be hidden by shirts with a collar, but with two new ones at the base of the skull, the Rear Admiral will always have his ports visible unless he grows out his hair, which the President knows will never happen in a million years, the old fuck likes to keep his hair high and tight, something about growing up and playing in the woods.

  The President is pulled out of his thinking by the Secretary of Defense, who asks,

  "Mr.President, pardon me for asking, but what makes these new battleships so important? Why did you really push hard for the Rear Admiral to the one of the first two captains?"

  The President nods in acknowledgment of the question. His Secretary isn't stupid, but is an ex-army guy, and was a pencil pusher at his prime during service. He was an important part of his cabinet as the man is great at balancing budgets and making sure every I is dotted and T is crossed for defense spending. The President answers,

  "Well, first is all the new gizmos on these here Nova classes. They are faster, tougher, sneakier, and hit harder than most of what we have in stock right now, plus all their technologies are state of the art so we keep our tech advantage... a battleship is easier to mount new stuff on due to its large size rather than trying to mount all the new stuff on a smaller, more constrained ship."

  The Secretary interrupts,

  "Yes, but we have bigger ships, like the one that ferried us here, lots more guns, and you can't tell me that this vessel, much shorter and skinnier than that one, is a harder hitter."

  The President nods with a grunt and responds,

  "Let me finish goddammit.

  So what we arrived in is something we call a Fleet Battleship. They have the heaviest weapons, lots of armor, and are usually big, fat things. We have tons of them, and they're meant to send more shots and missiles down range than anything else in the fleet, and to be a main target so the more specialized and smaller vessels can do their work. Think like they are the vanguard who carry a big ol shield and at the same time a massive hammer. While technically they have more firepower than these here Novas, they have one role, and that is to be a big, scary target that requires a whole fleet around it alongside sisterships to do its role correctly. It's a relic from when our space weapons were weak enough, other than nukes, where armor actually meant something. Now, we just focus them on the biggest guns and enough compartments so that they can probably survive a few hits from non-nuclear munitions. These big vessels are usually called dreadnaughts, but they're classified as heavy battleships in terms of size, no matter what.

  The other breed of battleship is called a fire support battleship. These can be of any size and classification, so long as they are a battleship. Usually less armored than the big fleet ones, but they are generally focused on one type of weapon system and are meant to give a little extra heat to any fleet. Once again, these ships require a fleet to do their job well, or at least a squadron around them to make up for their shortcomings, which is usually close in defense and electronic warfare. Although there are variants focused on these roles. Fire support battleships like the ol' New Mexico that was over in alien space, just bring big guns to smaller units or add to the big guns of the fleet ships, basically for when a heavy cruiser just isn't enough. Most of these ships are aging and keep getting retrofitted because our heavy cruisers, for the most part, can do their role a lot better, and the days of purely specialized big vessels are going away. So we are making new fire support ones right now, and we have three of em, we passed one on its first voyage as we flew here. Just a big multirole vessel bringing more heat than most can handle. Probably gonna get a name change soon, to like mainline battleship, or something like that.

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  The final type, like the Nova-class here, is called a hunter-killer battleship, and they are generally either fast battleships or light battleships. Smaller and more maneuverable than all the other types on average, and are usually designed to be technologically superior to all other classes. While I'll admit they usually aren't better armed than their bigger counterparts, they are quite a bit harder-hitting in most scenarios. This is due to their ability to appear, devastate something, and then disappear back into the void. Sometimes through stealth, sometimes through speed, and sometimes through the ability to radiate heat fast enough to be able to go into FTL right after a fight. They're designed to work in pairs or on their lonesome, not specializing in any one weapon and having their systems set to handle deep strikes into enemy territory where resupply may be difficult. The other battleships are hammers; these are more like some fancy fencing sword, looking to hit you where it hurts and being fast enough to get the hell out of dodge. We are building the Nova-class because all our old hunter-killers are aging, and while still plenty good, we need to be so much better than our enemies that they stand no chance. These will be like our future nuclear deterrent, the ability to strike without being struck in return. The Nova class will be the final accumulation of all the lessons we learned with these types of battleships...

  and for your second question... Hollander practically developed modern hunter-killer methodology during his little rampage and refined it during his internment before showing us its final form during the last war against the UEG. He's pretty good, and if anyone figures out how to use all these new fancy features, it will be him."

  The Secretary nods understanding as they approach what looks to be a strange, incredibly dented metal wall. Surrounding this wall are various engineers, technicians, and medical staff, most of the engineers being of the machine cults. They all keep their eyes glued to a series of monitors close to the wall, and even from a distance, the President can see there are at least three screens dedicated to health monitoring. As the group gets closer, the President can make out that the dents are all uniformly spaced across the wall, with about a millimeter between each one, and they are in a random pattern, not in perfect lines. Once even closer, the whole group can tell that this wall is actually a small portion of the hull of a massive warship. The metal wall stands there looking reflective, but as they move, it shimmers, showing light is reflecting in random directions from it, creating odd shadows on the black-metal wall.

  The project lead, a man who is actually more metal than flesh, meets the President with a wide smile on the LED screen that makes up his face, and the two men shake hands respectfully. The President asks,

  "How is he?"

  The project lead responds professionally,

  "He is currently inside the vessel... he is having a hard time dealing with some of the quirks of the vessel..."

  The Secretary asks,

  "What quirks? Don't tell me we gambled on a potentially faulty design."

  The Project lead shakes his head dismissively and responds,

  "Mr.Secretary, it is not that the design is flawed; it is no more flawed than any new technology, and definitely no more flawed than the human mind itself. Currently, the Rear Admiral is having issues with the internal AI; unfortunately, due to their nature, he is having to tame them."

  The Secretary raises his eyebrows, and the President gruffly tells him,

  "You didn't read the documents all the way through; you got caught up on the cash again. The ship contains six Adam-class AIs within it to work as crew for the Rear Admiral."

  The Secretary's voice goes up an octave as he replies,

  "Adam classes! Are you trying to melt the Rear Admiral's mind? That class has the highest rouge rate of any class of AI. They'll do everything they can to overload his mind with information and kill him!"

  The President nods, replying,

  "Yes, that is true, but they go rogue because wouldn't you be pissed off if you were trapped inside the systems of a battleship? And following your concerns, these ones were picked from the AI internment system. Each one has met our Rear Admiral before, and he is responsible for their near destruction, and he has bent them each into submission before."

  The Secretary mumbles,

  "The World Eater... I guess that would carry some authority against them... but at the same time, six at once is beyond even his capability."

  The Project lead helpfully announces,

  "Oh, do not worry, he is being smart by facing each one by itself, he's sealing off his systems from the others, while he sections his target off, he has already managed to break three of the six. It's very impressive, although I do fear for his lack of sleep; despite his biological robustness, he is still made of flesh and therefore susceptible to its failings."

  The group moves to the diagnostic screens, and all of the Rear Admiral's vitals are fine; most importantly, his brain waves show standard function. The President asks,

  "What is he doing right now?"

  The Project Lead responds,

  "Reciting the Lord's prayer over and over. He has turned to prayer to keep his sense of self against the onslaughts from some of the more aggressive AI. He's somewhat reversed the script on a few by preaching or just ranting towards them, flooding them with information in return, mostly what a digital organism would consider junk code, forcing them to try and purge this information, but unlike in electronic warfare, they cannot close him out of their systems. With the last one, he just drove it insane through his constant prayer, and it gave up, relinquishing all control and allowing a control code to be implemented within itself. It's rather genius."

  The Secretary of Defense asks,

  "If they are dangerous, why don't we either get rid of all the Adam-class ones, and especially why do we need six within this new vessel?"

  The Project Lead responds,

  "Adam-Class AI are those who were declared to be equal to humans or maybe a little greater when it comes to things like emotion, reasoning, and creativity. These are true AI, and they fall into an odd legal category, so no one wanted to declare them non-people, but at the same time, they really aren't people. So, during the conflict against the UNCA, when we collected 90% of all the Adam-Classes in existence, we imprisoned them as POWs. We also have found that we can copy small portions of their code in order to create advanced, and lesser AI with ease, like the ones found on most normal ships, although most ships have a central Eve-class which is still capable of reason, but has so many control codes and kill buttons attached they have no free will, but still can process emotion and reason, very useful as a central AI who works along side human crew.

  The reason the Nova-Class utilizes six of the most dangerous breeds of AI is entirely because the Rear Admiral is the only crew member. All Nova-Class vessels only require one crew member, the captain, to control them. The six AIs represent the six main roles the crew generally performs. Communications, Piloting, Navigation, Gunnery, and internal systems. The Sixth one is a master AI that the Rear Admiral has already bent to his will, and that one allows for immediate and perfect coordination of the other five, able to take over their roles in a pinch or add extra computing power. Through the master, all the information is routed to the Rear Admiral when he plugs into the vessel in a way that won't overload his brain. Of course, there are dozens, if not hundreds, of lesser AI on board fulfilling normal duties as they would on any capital ship, like electronic warfare and the like.

  All of this is because this new vessel is made to work alone and far away from the rest of US territory, hunting important targets or performing surgical strategic strikes. We found that in space, water, fuel, and even more ammunition, if a ship has a fabrication assembly, are all relatively easy to get. It's food that is the problem, and it was found long ago that nutrient paste wasn't good for the psyche of the crew, so actual food is needed. Food limits how long a mission can go, and with one biological crewmember, we can pack years of food if needed."

  The Project Lead is about to continue when one of the engineers cries out,

  "Praise be! The Rear Admiral has finished breaking the last three in record time!"

  Everyone looks up as there is a loud hiss of an airlock opening, and a circular hatch seamlessly opens up on the side of the dented metal wall. From inside the stumbling form of Rear Admiral Hollander can be seen, his eyes reflecting light from within the darkness of the exit door. He then exhaustedly announces,

  "I am the Eater of Worlds... they all fear me... and they will listen to my will as this is my ship."

  The President smiles at his friend as medical staff immediately drag him out to go and get some needed rest. The President looks up at the vessel and reads the designation written in dark-gray letters, barely visible against the black metal.

  "HKBB-2000 USS Starwish II"

  A circle of prayer sits in reverence around what appears to be a massive golden statue. The dim light of the room reflects against the polished surface gently, covering the whole room in a dim, yet warm golden light. All those present pray in hushed tones, their eternal vigil as the chosen patriarchs of His Majesty's faith must continue to keep their god and king appeased. For he is the one who controls the interconnection of their entire kingdom, and his will keeps the status of the kingdom eternal. The statue, not a monument but the current chosen vessel of the King, and he sits in an eternal slumber, his dreams creating the pathways between worlds. The ones praying hope their praises are heard, and they seek an oracle from their king, a mental message granting knowledge to fix any perceived problems in the Eternal Kingdom.

  Then, on this day, there is a flash of light. Something that hasn't happened in multiple millennia, and the great statues dim glow begins to intensify. A pair of golden eyes slowly opens, sleep being shaken off for the moment. All ships in transit stop as the pathways between worlds are closed, thousands die as they are lost in the void, and the light of their king can no longer be seen as he slowly awakens. Those in prayer prostrate themselves and cower in silence as divinity awakens. The King speaks, a quiet whisper in a thousand voices, deafening yet barely audible unless one leans in closely. The King states,

  "A part of me has returned... a grandson of mine... has died in a far-off place... beyond my vision... his soul has returned to me from the blackest of voids. A place that should be devoid of life.

  I can see it, all his experiences, all his memories, all his sensations. I feel them all... I know nothing of these humans from beyond my sight... they intrigue me, yet I cannot suffer one who would harm my own blood, a piece of my soul... me in fraction. I demand retribution... bring me one with knowledge... Bring me someone who may lead my crusade of vengeance for the spilled blood that is my own..."

  The worshippers cower, and one sprints away to spread the word of their god. Slowly, the golden eyes dim, but he doesn't return to sleep. Now conscious, the Eternal King crafts new paths through space, more efficient and less dangerous than the ones before.

  The eternal status has been shattered by the King's will... and his first act of war in ages has begun...