Greetings! The following is a retelling and dramatization of one of my campaigns. Obviously Stellaris is a fairly open-ended game as far as empire lore is concerned, but I'll draw from events from my own game as well as some crisis events/technology ect to keep things Stellaris-ey.
I hope you enjoy. Thanks!
Chapter 1:
Marcus Verser
Rain pattered against the shuttle's window as it came in for landing outside the Imperial Citadel. It was a grand palace dedicated to the long line of emperors and empresses which had guided Empire of Man since its inception. It was a single tall, black, spire that stood almost three times taller than any other building across Terra's surface. It was flanked by four smaller towers interlinked by a surrounding wall, effectively circling the central spire with an impenetrable wall of interlinking laser cannons, flak cannons, and missile batteries. If there was one place in the galaxy that was completely and utterly safe, it was the Imperial Citadel.
Marcus blinked as lightning streaked across the night sky. He rubbed at his tired eyes, regretting his decision to forego sleep the night before, he'd gone close to twenty six hours without sleep and was starting to succumb to the fatigue. He reached into his coat's inner breast pocket and withdrew a small silver container the size of a cigarette case. He opened it and withdrew one of the six small syringes from within, two of which were already empty. He held it up to the light, momentarily admiring the green liquid inside, before rolling up his sleeve and sticking the needle in his arm. He winced at the brief second of pain, then exhaled sharply as a wave of energy washed over him making his fingertips prickle as they tingled with electricity.
The cockpit door slid open and the pilot called over his shoulder, "We're coming in for a landing. Be ready to disembark!"
"Where exactly am I to go from there?" Marcus shouted back. He hadn't been told anything about the reason for his sudden summons to the palace. All he knew was someone high in the government wanted to speak to him, which was a curious event in and of itself considering his recent events, and that whatever it was couldn't wait until morning.
The pilot called back, "Just follow the bodies!"
"The what?" Marcus called back, not sure he'd heard the pilot correctly. The pilot didn't reply and just closed the cockpit door, leaving Marcus in a brief state of doubt. He pushed those doubts to the back of his mind, though, when the shuttle jerked as it touched down on the spire's upper landing pad, momentarily bouncing off the surface before settling back down on the pad. The door slid open and, after waiting a moment for a guard which never came, Marcus unbuckled and stepped outside into the rain.
The wind howled and Marcus pulled his long coat closer to his body to keep it from from flapping behind him. The rain continued to poor, coming down almost horizontally, buffeting his face and matting his short brown hair to his head. He squinted and held his hand to the side of his cheek to try and hold back the torrent, jogging to the open door to the spire fifteen feet away. His jog slowed and eventually came to a stop just two feet away from the open door as his eyes locked on the body slumped against the wall on the other side of the doorway. He could only see a leg poking out from the other side of the door, though a pool of blood had formed and begun to leak out onto the landing pad to be subsequently washed away by the rain. He reached into his pocket, his fingers grasping at the grip of the snub-nosed pistol he always had on hand. He crept forward, anticipation building in his stomach as he drew closer to the body, then rushed forward into the hall, pistol drawn and ready. To his utter relief nobody was there to greet him.
He sighed, letting go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, as he let the momentary relief wash over him. Unfortunately when he turned to inspect the body that fear an anxiety came back and caught his breath in his throat. Slumped against the wall, pooling in blood, was a soldier garbed head to toe in ornate black armor, with the symbol of a golden six pointed star emblazoned on his chest. He was one of the Onyx Guard.
Marcus's mind raced. The Onyx Guard were rumored to be the most elite soldiers throughout the Empire. More importantly the Onyx Guard served exclusively as the personal bodyguards to the Emperor himself. So if one was now here dead did that mean the Emperor was also...
"Inspector!" A smooth, almost calming, voice called from behind.
Marcus, to his credit, resisted the urge to jump at the call. He quickly turned on his heel, keeping the barrel of his pistol low to avoid threatening whoever it was who'd called after him. "Yes?" He croaked, just barely managing to keep the mild shock out of his voice.
Standing at the other end of the hall was a woman. Her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a short ponytail, bags had formed under her hard green eyes, and her tanned skin was practically flawless aside from a jagged scar that carved its way from her right cheek to her left eyebrow. Most notably, however, was her dark crimson uniform accented with silver buttons and filigree. Marcus wasn't the most knowledgeable when it came to mercenary companies, but everyone in the empire knew the uniform of the Blades of Ares.
Marcus' heart sank even lower at the sight of the officer's bars on the mercenary's uniform. "Colonel." He nodded while slipping his gun back in his pocket, trying to keep his tone neutral. "I imagine he's your handiwork." He gestured to the dead guard.
The colonel shifted on one foot, peering behind Marcus as if she hadn't noticed the dead body. "Not my work." She admitted, "I was on the lower levels. Only just arrived."
Marcus blinked, starting to piece together the implications of what she'd had said, but his thoughts were cut off when she waved, "Come. You're expected."
Marcus quickly fell in line with the colonel before he had a chance to think about it. His mind raced as they made their way through the spire. The hallways were marred with scorch marks from laser weapons and bullet holes. Bodies of more Onyx Guard as well as Blades infantrymen were scattered throughout, laying in pools of blood. The closer they got to the center of the spire, the greater Marcus' concern for his own safety grew.
Eventually they reached the central chamber of the spire which, based off appearances, served as the Emperor's personal chambers. It was a colossal room, likely larger than Marcus' small home on the outskirts of the city. Priceless paintings, tapestries, and other pieces of art decorated the walls like trophies collected by big game hunter. The room was filled with the finest furniture and silk carpets from across the Empire's countless worlds. By Marcus' estimate the entire room was probably worth the combined GDP of a dozen smaller countries.
"It truly is a sight eh investigator?"
Both Marcus and the colonel turned to face the voice. Tucked away in the far corner of the room, sitting on one of the ornate chairs, was another man. His black hair and mustache were highlighted with twinges of grey. His uniform, the dark blue of the Imperial military, was stained red with blood. Most notably were his silvery-blue eyes that seemed to pierce through Marcus. The investigator didn't need to look at the officer's stars on the man's uniform, he knew him to be Grand Marshall Conrad Cain.
"A true testament to decadence and excess." The Grand Marshall continued, rising from his seat. He crossed the room, looking around with a grimace on his face as if the mere sight of the beauty disgusted him, and stopped a few feet away from Marcus.
"Where's the Emperor?" Marcus asked. The colonel next to him shot him a curious glance, evidently not expecting him to be so blunt.
Cain gestured behind him to the gilded lift on the far side of the room, "He's up in the bunker at the top of the spire with the rest of his guards. Once we're done here I'll be going to collect him."
"So...what? The military's taking control of the Empire?"
"Not the military." Cain corrected, "The people." He paced over to a nearby table, picking up a bottle of amber liquid and pouring himself a glass, "The Empire is rotten from the inside out. It's collapsing under the weight of the corruption and of the excess of it's ruling class." He turned back to face Marcus, taking a drink.
"So you're here to kill the leadership? To establish yourself as the new Emperor? One who'll set things right?"
"I'm here to cut out the cancer." Cain answered, placing the empty glass back down on the table. "Once we've healed we'll create something new. But I haven't called you here to discuss politics."
He nodded to the colonel who withdrew a small sheet of paper and passed it to Marcus. Marcus unfolded it to reveal a short phrase, 'Beware the legacy of the Ren-Miruu.' He looked up from the page and raised an eyebrow, "Is this supposed to mean something to me?"
"The Onyx Guard did more than protect the Emperor. Their commander was also one of his advisors on classified projects. Projects that even I was never told about. When I killed the commander those were his last words." He pointed to the name on the paper, "At first I didn't understand what he'd said but that name, the Ren-Miruu, appeared multiple times in his journals. I want you to find out what this 'legacy' is."
"Why me?"
"Because your service record suggests you're one of the best investigators that Intelligence ever employed. While I don't necessarily care for your...distasteful...company nowadays, you're still one of the few assets still available without explicit ties to the throne." The Grand Marshall shifted on one foot before adding, "Essentially you're the only person I could think of who I could trust with this sort of thing."
Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as the Marshall continued, "You'll be paid handsomely and will be given all the access you need to classified records and information." He removed a signet ring from his finger and offered it to Marcus, "If anyone in the government or the military gives you trouble show them this. They'll know that I sent you, and by tomorrow morning I'll be the highest authority in the Empire."
Marcus pondered for a moment. It wasn't like he had much of a choice in the matter, he just wasn't sure how he planned to proceed, and he was sure the Grand Marshall would want results sooner rather than later. He folded the page and tucked it in his pocket, then accepted the ring, "I'll need someone to send me copies of the commander's journals. Anything that mentions these...Ren-Miruu...that's the only place I can think of to start."
"Good. I'll have copies sent to your home." The Grand Marshall nodded before turning towards the lift to the Emperor's bunker, the Blades of Ares' colonel falling in line alongside him.
Marcus, hesitantly, nodded and took that as his cue to leave. He reached the doorway before the Grand Marshall called back to him, "Don't fail me Inspector. I've no patience for those who fail to meet my expectations."
Once outside and out of sight Marcus nearly collapsed to the floor, having to steady himself against the wall. His heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to come to terms with the news that had just been thrust upon him. What the Grand Marshall had said was true, it was no secret the Emperor wasn't well liked throughout the Empire, and factions had formed lobbying for a reformation of the government. Marcus had even found himself somewhat sympathetic to those factions. It's just that…
"Just that the military's now in control…" He spoke out loud, completing his thought. More specifically, Grand Marshall Cain was in control. For better or for worse.
He looked down at the crumpled piece of paper, 'Beware the legacy of the Ren-Miruu.' He shook his head and sighed, "I hate riddles…"
Conrad Cain
Conrad stepped into the lift with Altynay, turning around just in time to see the investigator go. When the doors to the lift close he let out a sigh and leaned back against the wall of the lift. "I'm worried I just made a mistake." He muttered loud enough for Altynay to hear.
"What? Involving him?" She asked.
"He's just another complication thrown into this whole mess. I wanted this to be clean."
"If you wanted clean," Altynay observed, her voice light, "you wouldn't have called the Blades."
"Like I had a choice." Cain replied with a laugh, "I've lost sleep trying to think of how many royalists I'll be dealing with after tonight." He locked eyes with her, "My forces will be stretched thin as it is dealing with the Ascendancy. You'll be there to fill the cracks once the dust settles." He added, "You've signed quite the lucrative contract."
They rode the elevator in silence for a moment before Altynay asked, "What are the predicted casualties?"
There was a pause before Conrad replied, "I've screened what admirals and ship captains will be loyal to me and deployed them with those I'm not so sure about. They're under orders to fire immediately should there be any question about their loyalty once the news spreads." He nodded, rolling the numbers again in his head, before continuing, "Best estimate? I'll have command of eighty percent of the fleet once the dust settles."
He chewed his lip before adding, "If things don't go as perfect as I want I could be working with seventy to sixty-five percent. This is not taking into account the ground forces."
"What about the civilian population?"
"The worlds will fall into line." He said with a wave of his hand, "They've been calling for the Emperor's head for years. The alloy foundries on Geleron have shut down and gone on strike. Farmers on agricultural worlds like Ulthar feel like second class citizens. Everyone from miners to technicians to office workers want change." He rubbed the back of his head before continuing, "The difference is that the military's held by tradition. We're supposed to be beholden to the Empire. They've taken oaths to the Emperor. They're not easily forgotten."
"So why have you broken yours?" She asked.
Conrad's eyes remained fixed to the floor, glaring as if he could burn a hole through the steel, "He lost my loyalty a long time ago…"
The lift doors opened to a long hallway, leading down to a pair of heavy steel doors. Bodies of his soldiers, Bladesmen, and Onyx Guard littered the halls. He moved quickly, his boot heels clicking on the metallic floor, until he reached the other end of the hall where three squads of his soldiers waited. They were licking their wounds when he arrived, nearly half of them having sustained injuries during the fierce fighting while the Emperor retreated back to his shelter, the doors of which he now hid behind.
A sergeant was the first to notice he'd arrived and quickly snapped a salute shouting, "Sir! We're prepared to breach on your command!"
Cain nodded to the sergeant, waving a salute, "Rest for now soldier. They're sealed in with no way out. I'd rather you lot survive the night than throw yourselves into the lion's den." The sergeant nodded, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, before he dropped back down to finish bandaging one of his comrades.
The Grand Marshall looked around the room until his eyes fell upon the small panel set on the wall next to the doors. It'd been blasted during the Guard's retreat to prevent his forces from opening the bunker from the outside. Cain looked over to Altynay, who'd split off to help care for some of her own men, and said, "Can one of your splicers get me a comm-line through that?"
She stood, squinted at the panel, then nodded, "I'll do it myself."
He blinked, "You can splice?"
She nodded, a cocky grin appearing on her lips, "In the Blades we advance through merit. We don't get cushy jobs in the military just because daddy was an admiral."
Anger brushed through Cain's subconscious for a brief moment. He hated it when she undermined him, especially when she did it in front of his men. The worst part was that she knew that he hated it. He swallowed the irritation and ordered, "Get me in."
The whole process took only a few minutes as Altynay removed a technician's kit from one of the dead bodies and, after tweaking with the surviving circuits and wiring from the blast, managed to pull up a small interface on a tablet. She handed Cain a headset and nodded, "Give me the signal and I'll patch you in on the other side."
He nodded, "Do it."
There was a buzz of static before a voice called over the line. "Who is this? How did you get access to this frequency?" Conrad could tell whoever owned the voice was terrified. He didn't blame him. Even the Onyx Guard would understand that they were hopelessly outgunned, and they were only treading water. Sooner or later Conrad would breach the bunker and kill whoever was inside.
"This is Grand Marshall Conrad Cain." Conrad replied, putting as much authority as he could muster into his voice, "I'm here to arrest the Emperor for crimes against the people of the Empire. Surrender now and you'll not be harmed."
"We-we've no patience for traitors!" The voice stuttered, "We will remain until those loyal to the Emperor come to arrest you!"
"Don't be a fool!" Conrad barked, "I command the full might of the military. If you don't believe me I suggest you look to the countless number of your dead brethren who fought so hard to defend this palace. Open those doors and you'll be treated with utmost respect as will the rest of your comrades."
"We will not capitulate to a liar and a traitor!" A new voice replied, one who sounded older and more stern, though Conrad could still make out the faint sound of the other soldiers in the room. He was on speaker. Everyone beyond the doors could hear him.
"And who do I have the pleasure of speaking to now?"
The reply caught Conrad off guard, "I am your Emperor traitor!"
The Grand Marshall could help but let a laugh escape his lips, "Even now, in your final days, you lead good men to their deaths Emperor." He spat the word as if it was poisonous. "What honeyed words of reassurance have you told those men guarding you? What promises have you made them? Did you tell them that they'd survive? Did you promise them colossal estates on the beaches of worlds far beyond Terra?" He shouted into the microphone, if only to ensure that everyone on the other side would hear his voice, "To those guards who remain I want you to know this: I will give you ten minutes to open that door and release this fool to me! If you comply I will fulfill those promises! I will let you return to your families and your friends! If you do not then I will blast my way in there and slaughter every man who stands between me and the Emperor who has brought our great Empire to the brink of destruction! Make your choice!"
He deactivated the headset and tossed it to Altynay. She stared at it for a moment before nodding in appreciation, "That was good. You even convinced me."
"It sounds like you don't believe me." Conrad replied, drawing his sidearm. He turned to the sergeant who'd spoken before. "Sergeant rig this door with charges, we brought more than enough to cut our way through that. We breach in five minutes."
"Five minutes Grand Marshall?" The sergeant asked while picking up a large pack of explosives.
"They'll have made their choice by then. I don't want to give them time to prepare."
The sergeant gathered up a trio of soldiers who subsequently placed the disc shaped charges against the heavy steel of the door. What the charges lacked in appearance they made up for in explosive power. They were primarily used by boarding parties who used them to blow holes in the sides of enemy ships before entering. The door to the Emperor's bunker, while sturdy, wouldn't hold up to that much firepower.
Conrad stared down at his watch. It was an ancient pocket watch, an heirloom in his family. Three minutes had passed. "Soldiers. Prepare yourselves." All around him rifles clicked and hummed as the men readied their energy cells. At four minutes Conrad put the watch in his pocket and readied his own weapon. He held the detonator in the other hand. At five minutes he held up the detonator, his thumb hovering over the button. Just before he pressed it he heard a hiss as the hydraulic locks on the other side of the door disengaged and the doors slid open.
"Hold your fire!" Conrad shouted as three Onyx Guardsmen stepped out, hands raised.
One of them, a younger man barely out of his twenties, gestured over his shoulder at the other two men who stepped out, dragging the Emperor along with them. "We surrender!" The young guard cried out.
Conrad broke ranks with his soldiers and stepped up to the two soldiers holding the Emperor. The Emperor was ancient, with long, whispy, grey hair and a beard nearly reaching his knees. He was dressed in fine purple robes which had been tattered in the frantic escape to the bunker. He stared down at the floor, not matching Conrad's gaze.
The Grand Marshall reached down and grabbed the Emperor's chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. He stared down at the old man, fury building in his gut, before dropping his chin and looking away. "Sergeant!"
"Sir!"
"Lock this man up in the Black Cells beneath the spire. There he will rot." The sergeant snapped his fingers, summoning two other men who took the Emperor from the guardsmen. They shuffled off back to the lift.
"What do we do with the rest of the guard?" Altynay asked, her weapon still charged and ready.
"I made a promise." Conrad replied, nodding to the younger man. "Confiscate their weapons and armor and send them to their homes. I will not spill any more blood than we have to."
He turned away as his men jumped into action. He walked back towards the lift, alone, lost in thought. He mumbled to himself, "Gone is the old Empire. Tomorrow I build our new future in the stars."