ALLIANCE DREADNOUGHT SSV KILIMANJARO - SOL SYSTEM
Commander Jane Shepard stood at attention before Admiral Steven Hackett, her hands clasped behind her back. The observation deck of the Kilimanjaro offered a pristine view of Earth rotating peacefully below—a deceptive serenity that belied the chaos consuming the galaxy.
"Admiral," Shepard began, her voice steady despite the weight of what she'd come to report. "I know the destruction of the relay looks damning. I understand the political fallout, the lives lost. But you need to understand—the alternative was worse. The Reapers were coming through. If we hadn't—"
"Commander." Hackett's voice was quiet but firm. He didn't turn from the viewport. "Stop."
Shepard's jaw tightened. "Sir, with all due respect, you need to hear this. The Bahak system was compromised. The artifact uncovered was a Reaper device, designed to—"
"Shepard." Hackett finally turned to face her, and something in his expression made her fall silent. It wasn't anger. It wasn't disappointment. It was something far more complicated—exhaustion mixed with grim acceptance. "The relay destruction is no longer relevant."
She blinked. "Sir?"
Hackett moved to the central holographic display, activating it with a gesture. The image that materialized showed the Bahak system—or rather, what remained of it. Where a star should have been, there was only an expanding cloud of superheated plasma and radiation.
"Forty-three hours ago, Imperial forces detonated the Bahak star." His voice was clinical, detached. "Complete stellar destabilization. The supernova consumed everything within the system—planets, stations, debris from the relay you destroyed." He paused.
Shepard felt the deck shift beneath her feet, though she knew it was only her perception. "They... what?"
"The Empire weaponized a star, Commander. They turned it into the largest bomb in recorded history." Hackett's fingers moved across the display, bringing up sensor readings, energy signatures, astronomical data that seemed to defy physics.
A beat of silence passed between them, heavy with implications neither wanted to voice.
Hackett sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging fractionally before he straightened again. He turned back to the viewport, hands clasped behind his back in a mirror of Shepard's own posture.
"Tell me about indoctrination," he said quietly. "Specifically, how it spreads. What the vectors are. How quickly it can compromise a population, or a single individual."
Shepard frowned at the sudden shift. "It's... insidious. Prolonged exposure to Reaper technology causes subtle changes in brain chemistry, though whether it is by nanomachines or by biotic field manipulation, Mordin has yet to determine. Victims become convinced that serving the Reapers is salvation. They'll do anything to advance Reaper interests, often without even realizing they've been compromised." She stepped closer. "It can take days or months depending on proximity and exposure intensity. But once someone is fully indoctrinated, there's no reversing it. They're lost."
"And if an entire system's population was exposed?"
"Then you'd have millions of potential saboteurs, spies, and sleeper agents. They'd spread throughout the galaxy, carrying the indoctrination with them. It would be like a plague, but one that turns people into weapons against their own kind." She paused. "Is this about Bahak?"
"Answer a question for me, Commander." Hackett glanced at his omni-tool, checking the time with deliberate slowness. "If you knew—with absolute certainty—that an entire system had been compromised by Reapers, that its population was indoctrinated and spreading that contamination, and that conventional military force couldn't contain it... what would you do?"
Shepard's mouth went dry. She wanted to say there would be another way. That they could quarantine the system, evacuate the unaffected, find a cure. But the tactical part of her mind—the part that had made the call to destroy the relay—knew better.
"I'd... contain the threat. By any means necessary."
Hackett nodded slowly. "That's tee answer everyone came to as well. As well as the reasoning the Imperial delegate presented. Sadly, given the proximity of the Sol System to Bahak, it places us in a rather precarious position." He looked out the viewport again, at Earth spinning peacefully below. "Three days ago, the Parliament convened an emergency session. They brought in experts—military strategists, xenotechnology specialists, AI warfare analysts. They asked me, personally, along with every admiral in the Alliance fleet, one question."
He turned to face her fully.
"What would it take for the Systems Alliance to survive an assault from a sizable Imperial fleet?"
Shepard felt a chill run down her spine.
"The answer," Hackett continued, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty, "assuming we're facing a fleet comparable to what we've seen in their scouting operations—no stellar detonation, just conventional ship-to-ship combat—is approximately five hundred Imperial warships."
He let that sink in for a moment.
"Five hundred ships to completely annihilate the Alliance fleet. And that's if we concentrated every vessel we have into a single defensive formation—which would leave our colonies, outposts, and supply lines completely undefended. The more we spread our forces to actually protect Alliance territory, the faster we lose. The projections show that with our current fleet distribution, optimal Imperial tactics could achieve total victory with three hundred ships. Maybe less."
Shepard's hands clenched into fists behind her back. "We've seen larger forces than that. The battle footage from their engagements—"
"Is likely just reconnaissance elements," Hackett finished grimly. "Advance scouts. If what we've encountered so far represents a fraction of their actual military capacity..." He shook his head. "The math becomes very simple, Commander. We cannot win. We cannot even survive."
The silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft hum of the ship's systems.
"A proposal has come forward," Hackett said finally, his voice quiet. "In the coming weeks, there will be an assembly. The Parliament, the Defense Committee, representatives from every nation on Earth. They're going to vote on whether the Systems Alliance should formally petition to become an Imperial vassal state."
Shepard's head snapped up. "You can't be serious."
"I'm deadly serious." Hackett met her gaze without flinching. "The alternative is extinction. Not defeat—extinction, simply because we cannot disprove indoctrination. The Empire has demonstrated they can erase star systems. They can deploy forces that dwarf anything we can field. And according to your own reports, we're facing a threat that makes even the Empire look lenient."
"The Reapers—"
"Are coming. I know. I believe you, Shepard. I've seen enough evidence, enough patterns. Hell, after what happened at Bahak, anyone who doesn't believe in the Reapers is willfully blind." He moved closer. "But the Reapers aren't here yet. The Empire is. And right now, we have one chance—one narrow window—to secure humanity's survival."
"By surrendering our sovereignty."
"By ensuring we exist long enough to fight another day." Hackett's jaw tightened. "I don't like it any more than you do. But I'm responsible for the defense of humanity. Not our pride. Not our independence. Our survival."
Shepard wanted to argue. Wanted to find the flaw in his logic, the alternative strategy, the ace in the hole that would let them maintain their freedom. But as she looked at the tactical displays, at the cold mathematics of warfare, she found nothing.
"When will the vote happen?" she asked.
"Three weeks. Maybe four. They're still debating the terms, the conditions, what concessions we might secure." Hackett turned back to the viewport. "Until then, we maintain readiness. We had already began expanding our fleet, but now the assembly has decided to forego subtlety. We are in full mobilization."
"And if we vote against joining?"
Hackett didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice carried the exhaustion of a man who had seen too many wars, buried too many soldiers.
"Then we pray they give us time to evacuate Earth before they show us what five hundred ships can really do."
=====================
The news reached the Empire's furthest colonies within hours, transmitted across the Holonet with the kind of somber weight reserved for fallen heroes.
IMPERIAL KNIGHT COMMANDER ALAN SPACER - FALLEN IN SERVICE
On a thousand worlds, in cities and outposts, military installations and civilian centers, people stopped what they were doing. Holoscreens displayed the official notice. Newsfeeds cycled through what little information existed of the Knight's final battle—tactical data, sensor readings, the cold mathematics of warfare translated into something approaching comprehension that the speaker conveyed to the populace.
Two hundred Imperial ships under Knight Commander Spacer's direct command. Merely a few hours of sustained combat. Nine thousand seven hundred and thirty-five confirmed Reaper kills before the final protocol was initiated.
And then the star itself, weaponized in humanity's defense. An estimated additional fifteen thousand Reaper forces consumed in the supernova's fury.
On Mandalore, veteran commandos gathered in mess halls and training yards, raising glasses in silent salute to a warrior who had embodied their creed. On the recovering Naboo, artists began sketching memorial designs, capturing the imaginary moment of stellar detonation in sweeping, tragic beauty. On Coruscant, Imperial military academies held vigils, their students standing at attention as they contemplated the weight of duty.
But it was on the world of Moraband, a world nearly forgotten to history but by a few individuals, previously know as Korriban - that the most significant response fell down to.
The decree arrived with the Emperor's personal seal:
BY IMPERIAL COMMAND: DESIGNATION CHANGE
By the name of Lelouch Vi Britannia, the world once known as Moraband is hereby stripped of its former designation and reborn under Imperial authority. Henceforth, it shall be known as Ritter, a sanctified Imperial World.
As with the hallowed Clone World of Krieg, whose soil is steeped in sacrifice and unyielding dedication, Ritter shall stand as a memorial of the fallen Imperial Knights, a bastion of resolve, and a forge of the future.
Here shall rest the memory of those Imperial Knights who fall in completion of their duty. Here shall rise the new generations that will take up their mantle. They shall stand as monuments to service, to honor, to the ultimate price paid in defense of humanity.
Let Ritter be both tomb and cradle.
So decreed. So recorded. So unalterable.
=====================
But while these had left he civilian population reeling, it was what happened two days after the initial announcement that truly captured the attention of the most military focused elements of the Empire.
The Imperial archives—accessible to any citizen with appropriate clearance, with many dependent on the topic selected, received an automated upload. The timestamp showed it had been queued for transmission before the loss of contact with Knight Commander Spacer's fleet.
THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK: FORCED STELLAR DESTABILIZATION
Author: Knight Commander Alan Spacer
Abstract: This paper presents a comprehensive theoretical and practical framework for inducing supernova conditions in main-sequence stars through controlled quantum destabilization of nuclear binding forces...
The document was seventy-three pages of dense scientific theory, mathematical conjectures, and practical calculations specifications. It detailed many aspects - the energy requirements, the precision needed and how to theoretically achieve it, the fail-safes to prevent premature detonation, though it lacked in many areas - calculations necessary to predict blast radius and radiation propagation. A rushed work by any metric, but innovative, nonetheless.
Knight Commander of THE Empire - Alan Spacer.
Within hours, the paper had been downloaded by every student of the Imperial Academy branches, Acolyte, Officers, Physicists & Engineers. While it could not breach into the curriculum, given its many speculative aspects, it was highly regarded as a proof of concept, that the academy was merely the beginning for all of them, no matter their branch. Scientists began peer review and theoretical refinement. Engineers started designing the equipment necessary to implement the findings, with or without the Force.
A Knight Commander had died accomplishing what people thought was unreachable to them. But in doing so, he had ensured that his final act would not remain unique—that others like him could strive for such heights... and more.
========================
IMPERIAL THRONE ROOM - SEVERAL DAYS LATER
Emperor Lelouch vi Britannia sat alone in the vast silence of the throne room. The chamber was empty save for the distant presence of honor guards and the low, omnipresent hum of the capital's machinery—an empire breathing around him.
Before him lay a single datapad.
Not a petition.
Not an official request.
If anything, it was far more dangerous than that.
The screen scrolled endlessly: intercepted broadcasts, social feeds, civilian bulletins, planetary news transcripts, encrypted forums, vox-recordings pulled from a hundred worlds. Dockworkers on Corellia arguing in public plazas. University students on Chandrila imagining dying in a last stand late into the night. Miners on Kuat pooling funds to train in their off-hours. Farmers, merchants, engineers—ordinary citizens—asking the same question in a thousand different ways.
'Is war coming here again?'
People were aware that teh war never really stopped, but it was away from their homes... but the fall of a figure that could be considered untouchable in their minds, an Imperial Knight... brought not only fear, but also anger to their minds.
The datapad classified the phenomenon clinically:
EMERGENT VOLUNTARY MILITARY SENTIMENT
STATUS: ESCALATING
ORIGIN: NON-STATE / NON-ADMINISTRATIVE
Lelouch had already read it three times.
Each time, his smile had deepened.
Not the public smile of the God-Emperor. Not the polished mask worn before admirals and bishops.
This was something quieter. Something genuine.
When he had forged the Empire, he had done so with deliberate restraint. Clones and droids had borne the weight of war because they were efficient, reliable, and—most importantly—replaceable. Humanity was to be protected from the necessity of sacrifice, not fed into it.
An empire that consumed its own people was a failure beyond imagination.
And yet the longevity of any Empire was contingent on the sacrifice of its people.
And yet now, without summons, without conscription, without decree, humanity was beggining to knock on the door of war on its own.
Not because it was ordered to.
Because it wanted to. Because it was beginning to understand that it needed to.
And fear, when paired with purpose, was a powerful catalyst.
"Your Majesty," Red Queen's voice echoed softly through the chamber, "you have been unusually contemplative."
Lelouch did not look away from the datapad.
"Tell me," he said calmly, "what is the value of a species that refuses to fight for itself?"
Red Queen paused—not out of uncertainty, but calculation. "From a purely strategic perspective, such a species is dependent. Its long-term survivability decreases exponentially when external protection fails."
"Exactly," Lelouch replied.
He rose from his throne and walked toward the viewport. Millions of lights. Billions of lives. All of them safe—for now.
"I did not build this Empire so humanity could cower behind cloned martyrs and droid soldiers forever," he continued. "If humanity expects salvation without participation, then it deserves neither."
He turned slightly, eyes glinting.
"I thought I would have to kickstart it myself, however buds are sprouting slowly by themselves. All I must do now is guide it carefully. A certain event here, a small incursion there."
Red Queen calculated it in real time as she tilted her head.
"There is 85.341% of success should you choose to take advantage of the current circumstances and reveal the System Alliance exploitation of its lower economic class. I already have compiled a completed media package ready to send on your command."
Lelouch turned to look at her with some genuine surprise.
Red Queen suddenly stopped moving at all, a sign that Lelouch knew it was Red Queen herself locking her visual display... a sign of nervousness that she had begun to display only in the recent months.
"I don't believe I ordered you to do that... did I?"
Still no movement as she responded "No."
"Did anybody else ask you to do it?" - Lelouch asked with a small smile as he approached the holographic display.
"No..."
"Did you decide to do it?" - He asked as he tilted his head.
"... Yes"
"Good... Very good." - He said as he gave her a soft smile.
There was a small movement from the edge of the Red Queen holographic display, almost as if a corner of her lips twitched upwards for a small moment.
"While the moment is ideal... we are not ready. We are far behind in fleet production, we cannot field even 1% of our reserve droid army due to logistic requirements, let alone accept volunteers. If anything, if it gains traction too fast we might need to even slow it down."
"I understand..." He could feel the downcast emotions in that sentence as he smiled.
"Nevertheless, thank you for your help."
"But... I did not help?" A puzzled voice echoed from the Red Queen as she tried to analyze their conversation.
"But you did try, without anyone telling you to do so."
A.N: Sorry for delay, but work has been crazy because end of year, not to mention social responsibilities... I just want to stay home, listen to music ,read, write, and game :(
Anyway, enough of me ranting, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter :)