William, clad in the specially designed Mark IV space armor, held his reinforced helmet, ready to board the spacecraft.
Before he could take another step, his mother, Lena, called out with concern, "William, can't you let a professional test pilot handle this?"
William opened his mouth to assure her of the spacecraft's safety, but Lena interrupted, her face filled with worry.
"Don't give me any of that secrecy nonsense, and money isn't an issue for our family. Let someone else do it."
Her bluntness brought visible relief to the gathered English officials and military personnel.
Not only did they genuinely not want William, the genius behind the spacecraft, to come to harm, but as a hereditary noble who had earned his fortune and title through sheer brilliance, William was regarded with admiration even by those typically indifferent to the aristocracy.
Recently, media outlets had been abuzz with data analysts speculating that if William's Mars spacecraft could reach the Red Planet within weeks, England would undoubtedly take the lead in entering the interstellar era.
Such a breakthrough could pave the way for Mars colonization and access to rare extraterrestrial resources, potentially revitalizing England's global influence.
The officials and officers present hoped that Lena, as William's mother, could convince him to stay grounded. After all, if the test flight succeeded, William might monopolize future space missions, leaving others sidelined.
Looking at Lena's anxious face and Abigail's equally worried expression, William sighed.
He handed the helmet to Selene, who was leading the Kingsman security detail at the aerospace center. Taking his mother's hand, he stepped away from the spacecraft.
Just as the officials thought Lena had succeeded in persuading him, William pressed his earpiece and said, "Sunday, take over the test flight."
"Understood, Sir," came Sunday's calm response.
Moments later, the spacecraft's doors sealed shut.
To everyone's astonishment, the engines hummed to life at low power, and the craft began to taxi down the runway.
"Wait! Wait!" a four-star general, his uniform gleaming with stars, hurried over to William.
He opened his mouth to issue a stern command but hesitated upon seeing William's youthful, confident face.
The general's thoughts raced. This young man might very well shape England's future for decades, even centuries. Provoking him would be a mistake—especially given the Devonshire family's reputation for eliminating threats swiftly and decisively.
"William, since the spacecraft can fly autonomously, can we send some of our people aboard?"
William raised an eyebrow, and the general quickly explained, "If the first test flight is unmanned, the media might twist the narrative.
We just need someone in the cabin, wearing a spacesuit, to step out on camera after landing. That should silence any doubts."
Ah, so this is about optics.
William chuckled and walked a few steps away with the general, speaking in a low voice.
"You're worried about rumors of tension between us?"
"Exactly. Thank you for understanding. With the spacecraft being fully automated, there's no risk of leaks.
And given the support we've provided you, it's only fair to show some goodwill in return. It's in everyone's best interest."
"Need me to sponsor spacesuits?" William teased.
The general grinned as the spacecraft halted on the runway, its doors opening. "No need. Your data shows that as long as the hull remains intact, spacesuits aren't necessary inside."
"Then I'll leave it to you," William said, shaking the general's hand. "Since it's a show, I suggest sending two astronauts and a team of twelve fully armed paratroopers.
Let people know that with this technology, we can reach the U.S. in under half an hour by entering space and descending. That should make a lot of English citizens proud—and others wary."
"Are you serious? Half an hour?"
"Absolutely," William replied with a smirk. "If it weren't for the need to reduce speed during ascent and descent to avoid air friction and preserve the spacecraft's lifespan, we could reach New York in ten minutes at 100,000 kilometers per hour."
The general's eyes widened. "That means global strikes and personnel deployments could take as little as twenty minutes?"
"Exactly, General," William said, patting his arm. "As for how to handle any American protests, I trust you have plenty of experience."
"Of course," the general replied confidently. "As long as we don't land, we can spin this however we like."
With a grin, William thought, This might as well be the Devonshire-style global strike capability.
Now, he had a tangible demonstration of power that could command respect and fear worldwide.
The spacecraft's doors opened, and two military astronauts, deliberately donning spacesuits, boarded first.
To everyone's surprise, a dozen fully armed paratroopers followed in formation, their presence adding to the spectacle.
Watching this, William asked Sunday, "Is there any part of the spacecraft that needs to remain classified?"
"Only the emergency single-person escape pod. The cargo bay is inconsequential."
William nodded. "Then open a live broadcast. Avoid classified areas, and ensure the footage excites the English public. Make it look flawless."
"Understood, Sir."
Within minutes, the media stationed outside the aerospace center received word of a live broadcast showing parts of the spacecraft's interior.
This unexpected access thrilled reporters and captivated viewers across England, filling the nation with pride and anticipation.
The livestream showed the spacecraft's sleek interior, narrated by one of the paratroopers under Sunday's direction.
The carefully curated footage showcased the spacecraft's technological marvels, igniting celebrations across the country.
As William stood among dignitaries and officials on the viewing platform, he couldn't help but smile.
The first step toward redefining global dominance had just begun.
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Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 703)
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