A project of this magnitude demanded more than ambition—it demanded infrastructure the world had never seen. Site 999 was already the crown jewel of the Foundation, but with the arrival of Imperial schematics in my mind, it needed to evolve again. And so I began the greatest construction effort in the history of Earth.
A military-industrial complex for a future that would not wait.
The first order of business was clearing out several massive subterranean sectors beneath Site 999. I expanded downward using vibranium-reinforced drill drones and SCP-enhanced tunneling rigs, carving out caverns large enough to house the skeleton of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. Just one ship required a dock nearly a kilometre long, surrounded by gantries, assembly platforms, supply lanes, reactor-installation bays, and atmospheric containment fields.
This wasn't a shipyard.
It was a world-eater's womb.
Next, I carved out entire wings of the facility into industrial forges, weapons labs, metallurgical foundries, and reactor refinement chambers. The fabricators for blasters alone took up almost a square kilometre—rows of automated assembly lines built with Foundation robotics and Imperial automation philosophies. E-11 rifles, DC-15A carbines, TIE blaster cannons, anti-ship turbolasers—everything was being mass produced with frightening efficiency.
Why did I do all this?
Because Earth was naïve.
The only reason we had survived this long was that we lived in an empty, forgotten corner of the galaxy. A cosmic slum no empire bothered to map. But that luck would not last. The Kree, the Shi'ar, the Skrulls, and even the Celestials had vested interests across the universe. Humanity needed a shield. A deterrent. A military force so overwhelmingly dangerous that even the most arrogant cosmic empire would hesitate.
An Imperial Star Destroyer was exactly that.
A symbol of dominance.A floating fortress.A promise of annihilation to anyone who threatened Earth.
So I began building one.
And then I would build dozens.
Of course, the resource demand was unimaginable—even with the Reality Stone's assistance. The Stone was not omnipotent; it still required energy, concentration, and physical stamina to generate matter. Mass-producing hundreds of millions of tons of steel, hyperalloys, plasma conduits, shield emitters, and reactor-grade components wasn't something I could brute-force with Infinity power alone.
So I supplemented with Earth's resources, off-world asteroid harvesters, orbital scrap-collectors, and Foundation mining sites in every continent. I had a literal ocean of materials being funneled into Site 999 around the clock.
Every factory, machine, and worker—clone or otherwise—became part of one goal:
Build the first Star Destroyer in human history.
Doctor Bright was far too chaotic to manage this kind of project—he'd end up installing disco lights in the bridge or rewriting the AI to flirt with people. Orochimaru's talents were unmatched, but he specialized in biology, not megastructure engineering.
Doctor Gears, however…
Doctor Gears was perfectly suited.
Cold. Efficient. Logical. Reliable. The ideal overseer for the Imperial Fleet Initiative.
I appointed him as the Director of Project Stardust Reborn.
Under his guidance, the assembly yard transformed into a living machine. Droids marched systematically. Clones rotated through shifts with mechanical precision. Robotic cranes lifted hundred-ton plates like feathers. Turbolaser batteries were test-fired underground, their power output vaporizing reinforced targets in seconds.
Piece by piece, the superstructure of the first Star Destroyer took shape. A skeletal frame first—massive rib-like beams of reinforced hypersteel. Then the dorsal plating. The ventral armor. The internal reactor housing. The primary hangar bay. The ion engines. Each section larger than a city block.
Eventually, the shape became unmistakable.
Triangular. Aggressive. A dagger aimed at the throat of the cosmos.
Even incomplete, it radiated authority.
One day, an O5 would command it. Perhaps several would rotate command. Maybe we'd keep one in geosynchronous orbit above Earth forever, ready to deploy an entire emergency protocol to resurrect or preserve humanity if a cosmic threat ever struck.
But that was a long-term plan.
For now, the focus remained on building the ship. Building the fleet. Building the future.
My scientists, engineers, and clones worked nonstop. Blasters were manufactured by the tens of thousands. Walker blueprints were prepared for surface deployment on Mars, the Moon, and eventually Europa. The solar system would be mapped out for occupation and militarization. I would forge humanity into a spacefaring empire—one that would never again fear what lurked beyond the stars.
The birth of our first Imperial Star Destroyer would change everything.
Earth would no longer be prey.
We would become a power worthy of fear.