The UN Orbital Defense Platform aka Aegis Outpost
If Earth had Aegis Outpost in ’59—hell, if we had even a skeleton of it—we might’ve held the line without bleeding out on our own soil.
Maybe Stellar Man would still be here.
Maybe I wouldn't be the one left remembering what he gave us.
I was twenty-five then. Infantry. No clearance, no context—just a kid with a rifle watching New York burn green under the sky. The Little Green Men weren’t the punchline they’d become in the tabloids. They were real, and they weren’t here for diplomacy. They had names we couldn’t pronounce and weapons we couldn’t understand. They cut through our air defenses like tissue. Turned whole city blocks into hunting preserves.
They didn’t invade with shock and awe—they harvested. Quiet. Precise. Cold.
I saw a man—Frankie Torres, from the Bronx—ripped apart molecule by molecule because he got in the way of a dissection pod. He died trying to pull a kid out of a crash zone. The aliens didn’t care. To them, we were mice. Curious mice with guns and emotions. Test subjects.
We lost a lot. Not just bodies. Hope.
Stellar Man gave it back. I watched him that day in skies over Manhattan, he vanished in the light absorbing their final weapon and gave our troops the window they needed to plan the bomb that ended the LGM's. And when it was down and all that was left of the invaders was ash I watched the world breathe again.
And I swore that no kid would ever have to watch their sky fall without a warning.
They call me World Watcher now. I don’t know who started it. Probably some UN press attaché who thought I needed a brand. Most people just call me Saint, like I’m supposed to be grateful the nickname stuck.
I’m not holy. I’m not even nice. I’m just tired—but never tired enough to stop.
Aegis is still under construction. Half-finished modules, telemetry problems, supply shortages. Every day something breaks. Every day someone from a member nation demands more control, fewer weapons, better optics. And every day I remind them: this isn’t a debate club, it’s a wall.
A wall facing out.
I’ve faced slavers from the Maetra Collective. They look like we do—mostly. But their ships carry shackles, and their tech can override human will like tuning a radio. They don’t speak unless negotiating for cargo—and we’re the cargo.
I've met hunters who don’t wear armor because they don’t see the point. They drop in alone, hunt metahumans for sport, and leave piles of dead just to earn a kill-mark in whatever savage pantheon they pray to.
I've stopped alien "scientists", mostly the damned Grey, who vivisect with cold joy in their black eyes and call it data collection. They delight while slicing into living people and label it necessary evolution control. They write papers on pain thresholds.
I’ve seen all this. I've fought it for decades.
So when people say Aegis is too militarized, I remind them:
It’s not a monument. It’s not a peace dove.
It’s a warning.
I walk the half-lit corridors of the outpost and stare out at Earth. You’d never think it was so fragile. She spins below in her blue-and-green lie—quiet, sleeping, believing the worst is behind her.
But I know better. The galaxy doesn’t care about our dreams. It doesn’t respect lines on a map, or constitutions, or treaties. It respects power. Clarity. Resolve.
So yes, we armed Aegis. With torpedoes. With rail guns. With the Horn of Jericho, an old monster’s toy we rebuilt into a cannon that can kill gods. Call it what you want—a weapon, a provocation, a relic of fear.
I call it necessary.
Because the next time something comes for us—be it a fleet, a swarm, or a “scientific delegation” with scalpels and harvest pods—I want them to see Aegis, and I want them to know:
Earth has teeth.
And if they push?
We push back harder.
They ask if I believe in peace. I do.
I believe in earned peace.
Peace backed by vigilance, by strength, and by the memory of what it cost us to survive.
We don’t get to be naïve anymore.
We have to be ready.
And when Aegis finally lights up in full?
When the Horn of Jericho hums through the void like a tuning fork of defiance?
When this half-born station becomes the shield it was always meant to be?
I hope the stars are watching.
Because we are watching back and Earth is no ones prey.
- The World Watcher, Jason Saint
Maybe Stellar Man would still be here.
Maybe I wouldn't be the one left remembering what he gave us.
I was twenty-five then. Infantry. No clearance, no context—just a kid with a rifle watching New York burn green under the sky. The Little Green Men weren’t the punchline they’d become in the tabloids. They were real, and they weren’t here for diplomacy. They had names we couldn’t pronounce and weapons we couldn’t understand. They cut through our air defenses like tissue. Turned whole city blocks into hunting preserves.
They didn’t invade with shock and awe—they harvested. Quiet. Precise. Cold.
I saw a man—Frankie Torres, from the Bronx—ripped apart molecule by molecule because he got in the way of a dissection pod. He died trying to pull a kid out of a crash zone. The aliens didn’t care. To them, we were mice. Curious mice with guns and emotions. Test subjects.
We lost a lot. Not just bodies. Hope.
Stellar Man gave it back. I watched him that day in skies over Manhattan, he vanished in the light absorbing their final weapon and gave our troops the window they needed to plan the bomb that ended the LGM's. And when it was down and all that was left of the invaders was ash I watched the world breathe again.
And I swore that no kid would ever have to watch their sky fall without a warning.
They call me World Watcher now. I don’t know who started it. Probably some UN press attaché who thought I needed a brand. Most people just call me Saint, like I’m supposed to be grateful the nickname stuck.
I’m not holy. I’m not even nice. I’m just tired—but never tired enough to stop.
Aegis is still under construction. Half-finished modules, telemetry problems, supply shortages. Every day something breaks. Every day someone from a member nation demands more control, fewer weapons, better optics. And every day I remind them: this isn’t a debate club, it’s a wall.
A wall facing out.
I’ve faced slavers from the Maetra Collective. They look like we do—mostly. But their ships carry shackles, and their tech can override human will like tuning a radio. They don’t speak unless negotiating for cargo—and we’re the cargo.
I've met hunters who don’t wear armor because they don’t see the point. They drop in alone, hunt metahumans for sport, and leave piles of dead just to earn a kill-mark in whatever savage pantheon they pray to.
I've stopped alien "scientists", mostly the damned Grey, who vivisect with cold joy in their black eyes and call it data collection. They delight while slicing into living people and label it necessary evolution control. They write papers on pain thresholds.
I’ve seen all this. I've fought it for decades.
So when people say Aegis is too militarized, I remind them:
It’s not a monument. It’s not a peace dove.
It’s a warning.
I walk the half-lit corridors of the outpost and stare out at Earth. You’d never think it was so fragile. She spins below in her blue-and-green lie—quiet, sleeping, believing the worst is behind her.
But I know better. The galaxy doesn’t care about our dreams. It doesn’t respect lines on a map, or constitutions, or treaties. It respects power. Clarity. Resolve.
So yes, we armed Aegis. With torpedoes. With rail guns. With the Horn of Jericho, an old monster’s toy we rebuilt into a cannon that can kill gods. Call it what you want—a weapon, a provocation, a relic of fear.
I call it necessary.
Because the next time something comes for us—be it a fleet, a swarm, or a “scientific delegation” with scalpels and harvest pods—I want them to see Aegis, and I want them to know:
Earth has teeth.
And if they push?
We push back harder.
They ask if I believe in peace. I do.
I believe in earned peace.
Peace backed by vigilance, by strength, and by the memory of what it cost us to survive.
We don’t get to be naïve anymore.
We have to be ready.
And when Aegis finally lights up in full?
When the Horn of Jericho hums through the void like a tuning fork of defiance?
When this half-born station becomes the shield it was always meant to be?
I hope the stars are watching.
Because we are watching back and Earth is no ones prey.
- The World Watcher, Jason Saint
Purpose / Function
In the wake of mounting global instability, increasingly powerful metahuman activity, and a surge in extraterrestrial incursions, the United Nations determined that the existing Earth-based infrastructure of both the United Nations Global Special Task Force (UNGSTF) and the United Nations Extraterrestrial Task Force (UNETF) was no longer sufficient.
Earth needed more than heroes—it needed perspective.
It needed eyes on the whole planet… and a shield beyond borders.
Thus was born the proposition for Aegis Outpost:
A state-of-the-art orbital facility designed to serve as a neutral, sovereign platform beyond the territorial control of any one nation or alliance. It would serve a dual strategic function:
Global Monitoring Station
Equipped with high-resolution multispectral scanners, psi-tech sensory arrays, and dimensional anomaly beacons, Aegis Outpost allows the UN to observe planetary-scale crises in real time, including emerging threats from Specials, rogue states, natural disasters, or supernatural phenomena.
Extraterrestrial Threat Response Base
Positioned at a strategic orbital vantage point (Lagrange Point 2), Aegis serves as a launch platform and containment command for first-contact situations, off-world aggressors, and alien biological or technological hazards. It acts as the early warning shield for any threat approaching Earth from deep space, alternate dimensions, or psionic rifts.
Its orbit ensures non-partisan operation, protected by an international accord ratified by over 170 nations and enforced through binding treaty protocols, making Aegis not just a tool—but a symbol of planetary unity in the face of extinction-level challenges.
Though still under construction, Aegis Outpost already represents humanity’s most significant step toward becoming an interstellar-ready civilization—not by conquest, but by coordination.
Earth needed more than heroes—it needed perspective.
It needed eyes on the whole planet… and a shield beyond borders.
Thus was born the proposition for Aegis Outpost:
A state-of-the-art orbital facility designed to serve as a neutral, sovereign platform beyond the territorial control of any one nation or alliance. It would serve a dual strategic function:
Global Monitoring Station
Equipped with high-resolution multispectral scanners, psi-tech sensory arrays, and dimensional anomaly beacons, Aegis Outpost allows the UN to observe planetary-scale crises in real time, including emerging threats from Specials, rogue states, natural disasters, or supernatural phenomena.
Extraterrestrial Threat Response Base
Positioned at a strategic orbital vantage point (Lagrange Point 2), Aegis serves as a launch platform and containment command for first-contact situations, off-world aggressors, and alien biological or technological hazards. It acts as the early warning shield for any threat approaching Earth from deep space, alternate dimensions, or psionic rifts.
Its orbit ensures non-partisan operation, protected by an international accord ratified by over 170 nations and enforced through binding treaty protocols, making Aegis not just a tool—but a symbol of planetary unity in the face of extinction-level challenges.
Though still under construction, Aegis Outpost already represents humanity’s most significant step toward becoming an interstellar-ready civilization—not by conquest, but by coordination.
Alterations
As of its current phase, Aegis Outpost remains under active construction, with only the initial core modules completed and operational. While architectural and systems plans are extensive, very few alterations have been made from the original schematics—largely due to the precision requirements of orbital assembly, budgetary oversight from multiple international stakeholders, and the classified nature of several onboard technologies.
Architecture
The design of Aegis Outpost represents an unprecedented collaboration between architects, engineers, defense analysts, metahuman consultants, and astro-environmental scientists. Rather than being the vision of a single nation or firm, Aegis was shaped by a multinational think tank comprised of some of the brightest minds from across the globe—including minds both baseline and enhanced.
Aegis is constructed in a radial hub-and-spoke configuration, with a central command core anchoring a series of outwardly extending modules. This design is both practical and symbolic—allowing for compartmentalized containment, phased expansion, and specialized mission architecture, while echoing a vision of global unity radiating outward from a common center.
The structure draws heavy aesthetic inspiration from classic science fiction, with sleek metallic surfaces, crescent arcs, and luminous paneling—yet every curve serves a purpose. Its hull is layered with reactive alloys and radiation-absorbing composites.
Aegis is constructed in a radial hub-and-spoke configuration, with a central command core anchoring a series of outwardly extending modules. This design is both practical and symbolic—allowing for compartmentalized containment, phased expansion, and specialized mission architecture, while echoing a vision of global unity radiating outward from a common center.
The structure draws heavy aesthetic inspiration from classic science fiction, with sleek metallic surfaces, crescent arcs, and luminous paneling—yet every curve serves a purpose. Its hull is layered with reactive alloys and radiation-absorbing composites.
Defenses
Of all the systems aboard Aegis Outpost, none have drawn more scrutiny, budget overruns, or philosophical debate than its orbital defense array. In an era where threats may come from beyond the sky or rise from within the Earth itself, the UN mandated that Aegis be not only a station of observation—but a weaponized shield, capable of deterring even extinction-level assaults.
Layered Defense Network
The outpost employs a tiered combat and interception grid, designed for modular redundancy and overwhelming deterrence:
Automated Kinetic Torpedo Batteries
Positioned at multiple vector mounts, these can deploy hyper-velocity smart torpedoes capable of striking high-speed orbital targets or descending atmospheric threats.
Electromagnetic Rail Gun Emplacements
Capable of firing metal slugs at hypersonic speeds, the rail guns are Aegis' mid-range answer to incoming vessels, debris, or powered threats. Each emplacement is rigged for variable gravity compensation and boasts an independent reactor node.
Point Defense Pulse Lasers
Meant for micro-interception (e.g., missiles, drones, teleporting intruders), these laser turrets sweep the station’s surface in tandem with psionic threat-detection algorithms.
The Horn of Jericho Weapons System
Aegis’ primary deterrent—and its most controversial component—is the Horn of Jericho, a repurposed doomsday weapon Donated to the UN after the LGM invasion of 59 by the infamous supervillain Doctor M. Originally designed to fracture the crust of the moon via harmonic subspace resonance, the device was de-powered, re-engineered, and painstakingly reconfigured into Aegis’ main cannon. Now housed in a reinforced spinal mount beneath the station’s forward arc, the Horn of Jericho:
Channels high-energy waveform pulses capable of disabling capital-class spacecraft.
Uses a multi-phase core that requires triple-key authentication by UNGSTF, UNETF, and an independent Council auditor.
Despite its new safeguards, the system remains symbolically loaded—a weapon of terror turned into Earth’s last word in defense. The name "Horn of Jericho" was initially a joke among engineers but has since become official UN codename—referencing the biblical instrument that brought down the walls of a city.
Controversy & Oversight
The armament of Aegis remains the subject of fierce international and philosophical debate:
Peace advocates decry the militarization of space.
Survivors of superhuman and alien insighted conflicts argue it's long overdue.
Human-rights organizations worry the cannon could be used against earthbound populations.
Some world governments still lobby for national override protocols, which have been firmly denied.
As it stands, Aegis is not just a station—it is a sword in orbit, and a reminder that Earth, for all its divisions, now faces threats that demand a unified response with teeth.
Layered Defense Network
The outpost employs a tiered combat and interception grid, designed for modular redundancy and overwhelming deterrence:
Automated Kinetic Torpedo Batteries
Positioned at multiple vector mounts, these can deploy hyper-velocity smart torpedoes capable of striking high-speed orbital targets or descending atmospheric threats.
Electromagnetic Rail Gun Emplacements
Capable of firing metal slugs at hypersonic speeds, the rail guns are Aegis' mid-range answer to incoming vessels, debris, or powered threats. Each emplacement is rigged for variable gravity compensation and boasts an independent reactor node.
Point Defense Pulse Lasers
Meant for micro-interception (e.g., missiles, drones, teleporting intruders), these laser turrets sweep the station’s surface in tandem with psionic threat-detection algorithms.
The Horn of Jericho Weapons System
Aegis’ primary deterrent—and its most controversial component—is the Horn of Jericho, a repurposed doomsday weapon Donated to the UN after the LGM invasion of 59 by the infamous supervillain Doctor M. Originally designed to fracture the crust of the moon via harmonic subspace resonance, the device was de-powered, re-engineered, and painstakingly reconfigured into Aegis’ main cannon. Now housed in a reinforced spinal mount beneath the station’s forward arc, the Horn of Jericho:
Channels high-energy waveform pulses capable of disabling capital-class spacecraft.
Uses a multi-phase core that requires triple-key authentication by UNGSTF, UNETF, and an independent Council auditor.
Despite its new safeguards, the system remains symbolically loaded—a weapon of terror turned into Earth’s last word in defense. The name "Horn of Jericho" was initially a joke among engineers but has since become official UN codename—referencing the biblical instrument that brought down the walls of a city.
Controversy & Oversight
The armament of Aegis remains the subject of fierce international and philosophical debate:
Peace advocates decry the militarization of space.
Survivors of superhuman and alien insighted conflicts argue it's long overdue.
Human-rights organizations worry the cannon could be used against earthbound populations.
Some world governments still lobby for national override protocols, which have been firmly denied.
As it stands, Aegis is not just a station—it is a sword in orbit, and a reminder that Earth, for all its divisions, now faces threats that demand a unified response with teeth.
History
The story of Aegis Outpost begins not in space, but in chaos.
Throughout the 20th and early 21st centuries, the Earth faced a relentless barrage of crises—from rogue Specials capable of leveling cities, to extraterrestrial incursions that shattered the illusion of humanity’s solitude. Despite the heroic efforts of national forces, metahuman alliances, and private coalitions, one truth became increasingly undeniable: Earth had no unified defense strategy.
The turning point came during the Void Eaters Event —a coordinated assault by the Void-Born cult known as the Star-Fold Choir that nearly succeeded in opening a permanent rift over Antarctica. The crisis, barely averted by a joint operation between UNGSTF and the independent Pacific super-team exposed the vulnerabilities in Earth’s ability to detect and respond to off-world threats.
In the aftermath, the Orbital Safeguard Initiative was born, backed by a rare unanimous vote within the UN General Assembly. The initiative called for the construction of a neutral, international, off-world command station capable of monitoring the globe and launching high-altitude responses without sovereign delay.
A multinational think tank, Project Star Mantle, was formed to design the station. Early plans drew from both civilian space agencies and classified Special-tech archives, including repurposed alien materials recovered from various sources and advanced super science both donated and confiscated from supervillains.
A new controversy for the outpost erupted when it was revealed that the station’s central weapon, codenamed Horn of Jericho, was based on a recovered doomsday device built by Doctor M. While some denounced the move as a step toward orbital militarization, others—particularly survivors of the recent rift collapse—hailed it as a necessary evil.
The Horn was installed under triple-lock oversight, cementing Aegis as not just a peacekeeping hub, but Earth’s final line of defense.
Today, Aegis remains operational but incomplete. While many of its key modules are active the construction is still underway.
Throughout the 20th and early 21st centuries, the Earth faced a relentless barrage of crises—from rogue Specials capable of leveling cities, to extraterrestrial incursions that shattered the illusion of humanity’s solitude. Despite the heroic efforts of national forces, metahuman alliances, and private coalitions, one truth became increasingly undeniable: Earth had no unified defense strategy.
The turning point came during the Void Eaters Event —a coordinated assault by the Void-Born cult known as the Star-Fold Choir that nearly succeeded in opening a permanent rift over Antarctica. The crisis, barely averted by a joint operation between UNGSTF and the independent Pacific super-team exposed the vulnerabilities in Earth’s ability to detect and respond to off-world threats.
In the aftermath, the Orbital Safeguard Initiative was born, backed by a rare unanimous vote within the UN General Assembly. The initiative called for the construction of a neutral, international, off-world command station capable of monitoring the globe and launching high-altitude responses without sovereign delay.
A multinational think tank, Project Star Mantle, was formed to design the station. Early plans drew from both civilian space agencies and classified Special-tech archives, including repurposed alien materials recovered from various sources and advanced super science both donated and confiscated from supervillains.
A new controversy for the outpost erupted when it was revealed that the station’s central weapon, codenamed Horn of Jericho, was based on a recovered doomsday device built by Doctor M. While some denounced the move as a step toward orbital militarization, others—particularly survivors of the recent rift collapse—hailed it as a necessary evil.
The Horn was installed under triple-lock oversight, cementing Aegis as not just a peacekeeping hub, but Earth’s final line of defense.
Today, Aegis remains operational but incomplete. While many of its key modules are active the construction is still underway.
Tourism
None the station is a military and scientific station period.
Alternative Names
Big Brother Station, Eye in the Sky
Type
Orbital, Station
Parent Location
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