Weyland Corporation kept a low profile and, figuring it shouldn't leave empty-handed, picked up two projects. One was the spacecraft's fuel propulsion engine. The other was their current flagship research: bioroids.
Humanity hadn't even left the solar system yet. Jumping straight to building a full-blown spaceship was an absurdly ambitious leap, and both the DoD and NASA agreed: restart the Moon program first, then move on to Mars. Sending people was risky, but sending bioroids? No problem at all.
Most of the big conglomerates assumed Weyland had gotten a buy-one-get-one-free deal—buy the bioroid project, get the engine project thrown in for nothing. Nobody believed they could actually develop a spacecraft engine. Everyone was waiting for the punchline.
The DoD's attitude was simple indifference: you produce results, we'll verify them, and if they pass, we'll pay. If you can't deliver, every dime you spent is your own problem.
Nobody was stupid. Pouring a private company's finances, manpower, and resources into spacecraft research was a bottomless money pit.
Apart from a handful of major multinationals—and Weyland, which outsiders viewed as a cash-rich sucker—nobody wanted to touch anything spaceship-related.
Even Stark Industries hadn't dared enter that arena. Victor Von Doom had wavered but didn't commit.
Bella was quite pleased with 006's work. Spaceship R&D was going to be staggeringly expensive even with their massive head start, so having the U.S. government and DoD underwriting the baseline costs was a godsend.
Try hiding a spaceship from the entire world while secretly building and launching it—the sheer scale of such a project made total secrecy impossible. And there was no need to hide it anyway.
...
The Pentagon's strategy of enlisting major corporations and tech companies to reverse-engineer alien technology soon began bearing fruit.
Human technological progress had been stagnant for too long. The infusion of alien tech genuinely sparked new breakthroughs across the board.
Obadiah acquired Barricade's arm and prepared to marshal every scientist at Stark Industries to study it. Unfortunately, Tony Stark was still deep in the bottle—drunk most of the time, and on the rare occasions he was semi-coherent, he'd wave a glass around and curse out the Japanese.
Obadiah tried coaxing, pleading, everything. Nothing worked. Without Tony Stark as their technical lynchpin, the rest of the scientists had barely scratched the surface of Barricade's arm.
Oscorp, meanwhile, was reportedly attempting to extract and synthesize some kind of enhancement serum from spider DNA. Word was the theoretical groundwork was nearly complete.
Weyland Corporation sank a fortune into a joint venture with NASA and launched a space telescope.
Bella's motives were genuinely altruistic on this one. She figured humanity couldn't leave the planet anytime soon, and that was fine—but they couldn't afford to be blind on the intelligence front. If they'd had advance warning of this alien invasion, it wouldn't have been nearly as devastating.
The telescope incorporated some Cybertronian technology—all sourced from the Cybertronian ship's systems. The manufacturing cost wasn't exorbitant, but the performance was extraordinary.
Weyland's scientists discovered a planet roughly Earth-sized, orbiting 185 light-years away. Its orbital period was 3.14 days around its star, so Bella—the real boss behind the curtain—christened it π. And since the planet looked pretty big, it eventually became "Patrick Star" in her personal vocabulary.
Patrick Star's environment appeared theoretically habitable for humans, but "theoretically" was doing a lot of heavy lifting. At 185 light-years (roughly 1.09 quadrillion miles), there was no chance of colonization with current human technology. The distance was simply insurmountable.
Neither the enhancement serum nor Patrick Star offered any immediate help to Earth's current predicament.
The military and government were growing anxious. Experts and professors were openly pessimistic about humanity's future—but science and technology didn't care how urgently you needed them.
...
Early September 2003. This was Bella's fourth academic year at Stanford.
She'd already completed all her required credits, and with Stanford still operating on a remote learning model, she had little enthusiasm for classes this year. She decided to use the time to make a trip to Kamar-Taj.
She'd read the Ancient One's letter over and over. The wording was simple and courteous—just an expression of hope that she'd visit Kamar-Taj if she had the time.
A trap? Definitely not. Someone of the Ancient One's caliber had no need for such tactics—Bella wasn't at that level yet.
A social call? That didn't track either. They'd never met. What would they even chat about?
She'd put it off for nearly half a year, but finally decided to go see for herself. If nothing else, she was genuinely interested in Kamar-Taj's library. Even though their magical traditions diverged, there was enormous value in cross-referencing another school of thought.
"Be careful. The second something feels off, you run!" Natasha saw her off before she left.
Charlie and the rest of the family thought she was tagging along with an archaeological field team. Only Natasha had a rough idea of what was actually making her nervous.
"Relax, I divined it. The omens are favorable." Bella tried to put her at ease. "A year at most, and at the earliest... well, I might be back tomorrow. This invitation is important for my future."
Her tone turned serious by the end.
"Alright, I'm off! Make sure you teach little Kitty that her big sister is the most beautiful woman in the world!"
"...Just go already! Looking at you makes me want to punch you!"
...
The Ancient One's letter hadn't mentioned Kamar-Taj's specific location. Not even a general direction.
Maybe it was a test. Maybe it wasn't. Bella didn't care.
The Divine Dragon's homeland of K'un-Lun had always maintained good relations with Kamar-Taj. And even though the Divine Dragon was adorably clueless, Bella figured she could at least manage to point the way.
"This is what you call directions?" Bella stared at the glacier towering into the clouds, completely speechless. Had she wandered into Icecrown Glacier? Where was the quaint little town she'd been promised?
The Divine Dragon scratched her head, looking sheepish as she glanced left and right.
"Um... well... uh...?"
"Have you actually been here before?"
"Of course I have!"
"Then where is Kamar-Taj?"
The Divine Dragon's face lit up with a look of sudden revelation. She jabbed a small finger toward the southeast. "Should be that way!"
Bella was at a loss for words. "We literally just came from that direction."
"Huh? Did we? Did we? ...Wahhh... I got mixed up. It should be that way!" The Divine Dragon swung her finger toward the southwest.
They wandered in circles from sunrise to sunset. By the time they reached a riverbank, Bella still hadn't found Kamar-Taj.
"I was really little back then, okay..."
"Have you actually been here or not?!"
"...No. But you could've just come through Kathmandu, you know. I think they set up a small teleportation array there?"
Bella snorted. "Of course I know about Kathmandu. But that route is designed for beginners. Me? I'm practically a master of the arcane arts at this point. How could I walk the same path as ordinary people?"
The Divine Dragon pulled down an eyelid and stuck out her tongue. Bella lunged for her throat.