DISCLAIMER NOTICE
All characters and settings from the Oregairu novel belong to Watari Wataru, and he maintains exclusive rights over his original material. All original characters and settings from this story belong to me.
This is a work of fiction. The events that unravel in this work are not a reflection of the real world.
Chapter numbers will be in Roman numerals. "Nulla" simply means Zero.
The Breakthrough
Chapter Nulla
"I want to be a hero."
The boy slipped the phrase from his mouth and let it float in the air, almost as if to confirm that what was indeed what he desired to be. Giving an excited nod, the boy turned to his right, to which he was greeted by the presence of his father.
"Dad! I want to be a hero!"
This time, the declaration was thrust from the boy's tongue with confidence, no longer attempting to confirm if the statement held any truth. No, instead, the boy's eyes lit up like a shooting star passing through the night's sky. His father offered him a chuckle.
Rather than encouraging his son, the father corrected him.
"Heros are no good, son."
The boy's face dropped and the light that occupied his eyes quickly dissipated from view. His father simply smiled at his son and continued on with his correction, his saber clinking against its chain as he turned toward his offspring.
"Heros live for a selfish cause. They do not take into account others with their actions and see people only as pawns to achieve their goal."
The boy slightly turned his head at this statement, puzzled by the fact that heros would sacrifice others. Noting his son's perplexion, the father began to elaborate once more as a small gust of wind caused his medals to clink against each other.
"Heros fight for a goal, my son. It is in their mind to sacrifice anything they must in order to achieve said goal. Whether that be fathers, sons, daughters, or...mothers."
The boy had a reaction expectant of a child, as his face was filled with a hint of fear and anger.
"But dad, I don't want to sacrifice you or sis!"
The father vainly held a chuckle in upon witnessing the face his son was making, and the statement following it as well. Recovering from his small fit of hilarity, the father bent down toward his son, the strings from his Teitoku[1] epaulettes swaying slightly as he did. Placing one hand on his son's head and securing his saber on his hip with the other, the father delivered the correction in full.
"Yes, son. I would imagine not. Then, what you would want to be instead, is a Saviour."
Wincing from the gentle pat his father was giving his hair, the son grabbed his father's hand and lifted it rather abruptly, excited by this idea of a "saviour."
"A Saviour dad? What's that? I heard Zeneraru[2] Kafka say that was a drink. Saviour Schnapps[3] or something?"
The father internally cursed the old Zeneraru for the influences he put on his son.
Gently wrestling his hand from his son's, the father rose in a swift yet smooth motion. Gazing out from the veranda they were currently residing on, he recalled what his wife and the child's mother had told him long ago in Anslass.
"A Saviour is someone who achieves the best result whilst saving those he can. Rather than viewing the mission as the overall, a Saviour views those he protects as the mission. That's why, son, you should want to be a Saviour and not a Hero."
The father stared into sky whose color was a messy blend of orange and red.
"Yes, son. You should not be a Hero."
The sky seemed to blur as the father uttered his sentence.
"For a Hero sacrifices those he loves."
"Oh my gosh!"
A couple who was out for a evening walk spotted the father and began pointing their fingers towards him in amazement. Their mouths agape and their pride high, they soon refrained from finger pointing and started to wave.
"Isn't that the Hero of Anslass?"
Were the words that seeped out of their lips, and just like the son, they held it in the air as if to confirm the truth of their utterance.
The father returned their wave with a bright smile, confirming their suspicions of who the man was.
As the father continued to wave, he relayed to his son the last words he would offer on the subject of Heros and Saviours.
It was simple in nature.
"Be a Saviour, son. Not a Hero."
In the early stages of human progress, the revelations and inventions of science proved to be crucial to human survival and adaptation. Ground-breaking contraptions were conceived by great minds due to necessity, not want. The wheel, for example, is a perfect illustration of such human need. As is the need of gunpowder, or the need of the compass, or the need of military innovation.
The same is said of the day humans embarked upon a craft and traversed the last frontier: space.
In the year 2240, mankind was at a stagnation; the Earth had run its course. The Moon and the planet of Mars were not suitable locations of settlement after the Nuclear Mine Disaster of 2203. And thus, the human race was confronted with a crucial and immediate dilemma.
Where do we go?
In 2250, the nations of Earth gave their answer: beyond.
Trillions of Uni-Dollars[4] were spent on creating a space fleet of then massive proportions. Liveships with thousands of souls on board were guarded by primitive cruisers and destroyers, whose weaponry were merely Stage 1[5] electromagnetic turrets. The total number of ships counted 500, a staggering amount for the time in which they were built.
Thus, this endeavor codenamed "The Beyond" took place. The fleet travelled 25 LYs[6] to arrive at the system of "Horizon", named after humanity's outlook towards the system from Earth. It was here, on the now known planet of Thessia[7] that man made their first colony, so distant from home.
Declaring themselves the United Galactic States, the colonists began to build their livelihood on the planet that was almost a replica of Earth. Farming and cultivation, industrial innovation, massive cities, and other hallmarks of human civilization soon blanketed humanity's new home.
After many decades, the UGS gained a stable foothold on their situation, leading to an expansion into other known planets within their system, and eventually, into systems Beyond. After many graces and hardships, a century passed. The UGS controlled over 25 different solar systems with a teeming 5 trillion lives. Democracy was a standard in the UGS and citizens enjoyed freedom among their peers and themselves. It seemed as if humanity had truly conquered the last frontier. But there would always be something that humans could not overcome: themselves.
It was in 2550, three centuries after The Beyond, that the UGS splintered. With a civilization sprawling over one-fifth of the galaxy[8], different interests and ideologies crashed together, and the democratic foundation that was the United Galactic States burned to the ground. This event became known as "The Great Civil War."
As the dust settled after the most tumultuous time in human history, two separate factions rose from the ashes of the United Galactic States.
There were a plethora of people who attributed the crumbling of the UGS to its system of government: democracy. They argued that in order to maintain command and control of citizens stretched across such a large section of the galaxy, it was imperative that there be a figure whose word was law. There would be no checks, there would be no quarrel; there would only be obedience. Thus was born the New Roman Empire, the Roman Senate, and the Praetorian Guard.
But there were also those who wished to conserve the ideal of democracy, as they believed that freedom was the ultimate goal and treasure of mankind. Having one man in charge of everything would result in disaster and ruin the cornerstone of freedom that was so precious to mankind. So, taking the basis of the UGS as their government, the Federal Light of Man was formed.
War immediately ensued between the two extremes.
After fifty years of destruction, which costed over two billion lives, Rome and the Light bit their prides and signed a ceasefire. It is said that the fleets of each nation had their weapons primed to full during the entirety of the conference in 2600.
As the clock strikes 1456 GT[9] on 13MAY2650, fifty years after the signing, the already fragile ceasefire that exists between the two will be struck with an unrelenting force.
And that force will finally bring an end to the Great War.
Sagritti System
Federal Light of Man Space
3LYs from Ceasefire Line
1456 GT - 13MAY2650
Operation Knocker
"Yeah! And then, I told her to fuck off!"
"Ha! Man you're crazy! You know that?"
Two men in crisp, blue uniforms sit at their stations on Sagritti Defense Platform Three. The pants have a silky, long black line running up the side front the hem to the hip. The arms of the blue dress uniforms have the same line, but a noticable difference are the three inverted chevrons that don each man's sleeve, signaling their ranks as "Sergeant."
Bleep
A single sound is emitted from the radar panel that both men currently watch over. Often do these radars sound off, as patrol craft buzz the defense platform almost every other minute. However, the sound coming from the radar is of different pitch than the ones for the patrol craft.
Bleep
"That's the long-range, isn't it?
One sergeant, more keen than the other, takes notice of the difference.
Normally, it would signal a trade craft or FLM warping in, but considering that these men are only three light years from the Ceasefire Line, small talk quickly turns to panic with a third, sequential sound.
Bleep
"Holy fuck. Are you seeing this Matt?"
The more junior sergeant turns to the more senior, dread plastered across his face as if he had seen a ghost.
"I see it. I've never seen so many contacts on radar. I'm reading 12,000!"
Inspecting the number count adjacent to the radar panel, the senior sergeant is baffled by the sheer size of whatever force is approaching. Normally, as being the senior of the two he would have some idea of what to do. This time unfortunately, he had no essence of a thought.
"Holy Jesus, it's climbing Matt! I've got 20,000 now!"
Having no recollection of proper procedure, the senior sergeant calls someone who does, or, at least he hopes does.
"Captain! Get over here, now!"
A tall, lean man walked bristly over to the sergeant, his anger at being disturbed quite evident from the look blanketing his face. Other soldiers observing the scene pointed out that they could see the steam flowing from the Captain's head.
His uniform was of the same color and crispness as the sergeants, though there was a distinct difference between the two. As an officer, the Captain was endowed with red stripes travelling along his pants leg, as well as his sleeves. A red cord hung firmly from his similarly red epaulettes whose three diamonds represented the officer's rank of Captain. Holding the jacket in place were four golden buttons, each sporting the FLM's Lion[10]. To finish the uniform, his collar was marked the color of gray, denoting his branch as the FLM's Space Corps.
"Sergeant. I hope that you have a good rea...son…"
As the Captain slanted his eyes towards the radar screen manned by the two sergeants, the steam noticeably dissipated.
"24,000 signatures...Don't tell me those are ships."
Disbelief seemed to be the expression of the day, as the Captain was experiencing the same sentiment as his two subordinates.
Just as the Captain was going to question whether or not this was a false alarm, hopefully some malfunction in the system, his question was answered and his hope was crushed.
A blaring alarm echoed throughout the defense platform, sparking first surprise then fear in the soldiers stationed there. Everyone in the platform turned towards the Captain. They were not seeking answers, but orders. Everyone understood what that alarm meant: a breaching of the ceasefire line.
"Sergeant, continue to monitor the radar and report the enemy's positions to me."
"Sir!"
"The rest of you! The time is nigh. It seems the Empire has finally cast aside their pride as human beings and are breaching the line. Hold steady, hold firm, and hold ready. We are the Federal Light of Man! We will not allow these aggressors to threaten our ideals of Democracy! To your battle stations!"
The small speech seemed to at least rile the men out of their stupor, as they began to run toward computers hooked up to gun batteries, the hangar to launch fighters, and to the massive shield generator stationed on Platform Three.
"Lieutenant Priscilla!"
A woman who was short in length snapped her head towards the Captain in response to his calling.
She was donning the same uniform as he, with the exception of two silver diamonds and less medals on her right chest.
"Sir?"
"Bring up the TACMAP[11], now. I want to see what the hell is happening here."
"Yes, sir!"
The Captain and the Lieutenant were currently in the Central Command, CENTCOM for short, of the Sagritti system, hence why the planet's shield generator was stationed on the platform. Many others soon began to flood into the CENTCOM, manning their respective station in preparation for what was undoubtedly going to come.
The room CENTCOM was in was incredibly large, as was the defense platform itself. The ceiling of the room was about three stories tall and two football fields wide, with one football field being the length. It was the biggest among the other platforms, of which there were nine.
Each held Stage 4 weaponry, with a mix of electromagnetic guns and plasma casters.
The platforms themselves were dark gray, almost black in color. They could not move without a tug-ship and were placed out of orbit of the planet. A continuous stream of white plasma particles kept the platform in place.
In the center of CENTCOM was a massive table endowed with a glass screen. The Lieutenant quickly powered on the TACMAP with a swipe of her hand, bringing to life the Operations Command of the Sagritti system.
"Captain!"
Three young Lieutenants stood before the Captain, shaken but attentive. The Captain noted how they were full of sweat, likely due to their running from their quarters.
"Get to your stations. Now."
The three Lieutenants ran towards their stations around the TACMAP, preparing their respective commands. Donning their headsets, each Lieutenant began to contact their NCO's[12].
"Artemac one, Artemac actual. Report on operational capacity."
"Lisbon one, this is Lisbon actual. Report on OP capacity."
"Sergeant Hart, Lieutenant Saika. Report on operational capacity."
The Captain allowed his Lieutenants a moment to receive their reports before collecting them. In the meantime, he turned towards his second-in-command, Lieutenant Priscilla.
"Priscilla, give me an update on the situation."
The woman had been monitoring the dreadful circumstance they were currently in, gathering details to report to her Captain.
"It seems that the Empire has sent one of their fleets to breach the line. The count is in, sir: 24,000 ships."
"A full fleet."
"Indeed. As we know the Empire divides their fleets into four different battlegroups, each with 6,000 ships."
"I'm assuming that all battlegroups have their count?"
"Yes, sir. 2,500 destroyers, 2,000 cruisers, 1,000 battleships, and 500 carriers."
Hearing the information, the Captain heaved a heavy sigh.
"How long?"
"One hour, sir. Our time is limited to adequately prepare for invasion."
"Indeed it is, Lieutenant. Indeed it is."
The Captain understood that there were two path he could traverse. With the oncoming onslaught of Imperial ships, and a full fleet to boot, he could either turn this into a war of attrition that the Light may or may not lose, or focus on evacuating the civilians while they still could. It was the way of Democracy to prioritize the people, not the mission. That, and he knew the Empire would simply destroy the shield to the planet and proceed to orbitally bombard it until the people cracked and surrendered.
But this was it. The only full layer of defense that the Light had. In the fifty years of the ceasefire, the government had focused on building one solid layer of protection rather than multiple weak ones. Many in the military advocated against it, but soldiers were banned from involving themselves with politicians, so there was only so much that veterans of the Great War could do.
The Captain looked through the large window behind him, the planet of Sagritti in view. It was the second most populous planet that the Light had, with over 10 billion people calling it home.
Clenching his fists which were at his side, the Captain offered two bitter words:
"I'm sorry."
Lieutenant Priscilla stared blankly at her screen, fully realizing what the words of the Captain meant.
Her hatred for the Imperials would never stop growing.
"Lieutenant Saika."
"Sir?"
"Ensure that our shield generator is at maximum capacity."
A puzzled look found its way to the young Lieutenant's face.
"But sir, we'll sacrifice the power to our weaponry if we do that, it would be wiser to-"
"Lieutenant. Do it. Now."
Slightly intimidated at the look the Captain was giving him, the Lieutenant nodded in acknowledgment and prepared his Power Specialists, to whom he was responsible for, for the change in energy flow.
Lieutenant Saika had always respected the Captain, as he was mentored by him through his Ensign years. Anything the Captain told him, he would do.
"Sir, Artemac is prepared to defend. But, I must insist that we should not sacrifice weapon power. It would simply be counterintuitive to our fight, sir."
"Your concern is noted Lieutenant."
Those few words from his superior officer was all Lieutenant Kawasaki needed to know. With that, she knew her words were worth shit.
"Sir, Lisbon is prepared to send out our fighters and bombers on your command."
"Understood, Lieutenant Park. Have them link with Admiral Buchon when they launch."
"Sir."
"Speaking of the Admiral, get me a link to his fleet Priscilla."
"Sir."
As the Lieutenant attempted to carry out her Captain's orders, she noticed something was off with the data link procedure: it wouldn't go through.
Writing it off as only a malfunction with the tech, she once again attempted to establish a data link with the Admiral, only to have it come back with an "Error."
"Sir, the data link is not going through."
"Well, try it again then."
"I've tried thrice sir, but it's not going through."
"Let me see."
The Captain brought himself to the Lieutenant's position as she moved out of his way. He underwent the procedure, but just like his second-in-command said, it was not connecting.
While the Captain mulled over what could possibly wrong with the data link, Lieutenant Saika pointed out something to his counterpart in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"Saki, what happened to your finger?"
"I jammed it the other day. Hurt like hell."
The Captain was about to tell them to be silent when a certain word Lieutenant Kawasaki said reverberated through his head.
Jammed.
A sudden realization hit the Captain.
They were being jammed. Their long-range communications were jammed. The defense platforms would be fine, but without being able to contact the Admiral, the platform would be without fleet support for a small window. But with his knowledge of Imperial tactics, the Captain knew the Empire would exploit that window to turn it into the biggest weakness.
Then another realization hit the Captain. If their long-range communications were being jammed, that mean the same for their long-range radar.
Three simple words were all the Captain managed to get out.
"God help us…"
"CONTACT!"
The Captain and his Lieutenants whipped around toward the forward window, and witnessed a scene they were not prepared for at all.
Out of slipspace came two Imperial battlegroups, each wielding 6,000 ships for a total of 12,000.
"If they're just using two, them perhaps the Admiral's fleet will actually be able to handle them."
The Second Fleet of the Federal Light of Man was stationed in the Sagritti System, keeping guard over the Light's most populous planet. They numbered 15,500, so while not dwarfing the current Imperial battlegroups, they would outnumber them.
The Captain had a small sliver of hope, until two other Imperial battlegroups slipped into the system, on the other side of the planet.
"Damn those Imperials. They purposefully overshot the jump so they could come in behind us![13]."
Was Lieutenant Kawasaki's reaction.
As the dark matter particles settled in space, a pause permeated through the Light's defense platforms and the Empire's fleet, both factions observing each other.
Then, 24,000 ships opened fire on nine defense platforms, with the Light's fleet one planet away.
The Captain starred out the window, his face blank as his eyes followed the Gamma lasers[14] and electromagnetic railguns firing on his soldiers.
He saw the Empire's infamous Tetron Cannons[15] fire massive bursts of dark energy towards the shield covering the planet, giving it only hours before it fell.
He heard his Lieutenants scrambling to give orders to their commands.
"All Artemac units, Artemac actual! Engage those fucking Imperials! I want all electromagnetic turrets to target the shields! Follow it up with a plasma cast to break through the armour! Prioritize the destroyers. If those get too close we're fucked!"
"Lisbon actual to all units, launch all fighters and bombers! I say again, launch everything! Do not attack! Defend the platforms! I repeat, establish a perimeter around the platforms and defend!"
"This is Lieutenant Saika! Remain on your stations and ensure that the energy flow is maintained! Prioritize the shields and give whatever you can to the guns!"
"Maintain your composure! We cannot let Sagritti fall! We will not falter!"
The last words the Captain heard were those of his second, motivating those in CENTCOM. And the last thing he saw, was a Tetron Cannon's laser coming directly towards him.
Turning towards his subordinate in charge of energy flow, the Captain attempted desperately to save those in CENTCOM.
"Lieutenant Saika, frontal shields, now!"
"I can't, sir! All power has been diverted to the generator and guns!"
The Captain once more moved toward the window, taking a deep breath before shouting his command.
"Everybody hold onto something!"
The cannon's dark energy collided with the titanic defense platform, blowing a hole directly into CENTCOM. The loss of gravity, as well as the lost of air, was immediate. Shards of glass and pieces of structural supports were projected across the formerly operational room, the force of which penetrated bodies of soldiers helplessly floating in space.
The kinetic energy of the blast was so great, that some men were thrown into the walls of CENTCOM, dying on impact. Others were thrust out into the cold depths of space, their fate sealed through oxygen deprivation, or a passing laser that saw them cut in half.
The Captain was relatively unharmed, floating inside the once bustling room. He turned his head towards his Lieutenants, who surprisingly were able to stay in one area. Though they were not as unharmed as he.
A metal shard about the size of a textbook was lodged inside of Lieutenant Park's head. Bits of brain and many liters of blood were slowing creepy out of his skull as he spun in a circle.
Lieutenant Kawasaki received a pipe to the gut, her intestines dredging out of her body. Her face was still and her eyes unmoving, but her hands were attempting to stop the bleeding that the elongated object in her was causing, so she was alive. Though not for long.
The energy Lieutenant, Saika, was stuck to the TACMAP table due to a pipe smaller than Lieutenant Kawasaki's. Where skin, flesh, and muscle use to be on his left arm, was instead a metal pipe that went straight through. Pieces of skin and muscle tissue could be seen floating around the impact zone. The young man was panicking and was losing oxygen rapidl. It would not be long before his last breath came upon him.
A piece glass had found its way into Lieutenant Priscilla's eye, the damaged one still twitching in pain. She was moving toward the emergency shutter control, which was located on the side of the TACMAP table in an effort to reactivate gravity and life support.
Just as she was about to reach the panel, a orange hue appeared in her non-afflicted eye.
Then there was no hue. There were no eyes either. There was nothing.
If the Captain was not trying to conserve the little oxygen he had left, he would have vomited at the site he was witnessing.
Before him was the lifeless, and headless body of Lieutenant Priscilla. Her delicate fingers were still moving toward the shutter control, in fact, they were positioned perfectly. The kinetic energy from her decapitation allowed her body just enough thrust to hit the switch on the shutter control, restoring gravity and oxygen to CENTCOM.
The activation of gravity paid a price, as many died from the fall due to its reactivation. It dug the pole inside of Lieutenant Kawasaki even deeper, causing her great pain and agony, and surely death.
Only Lieutenant Saika was spared, as the pole tying him down was already as deep as it could possibly be.
And a piece of metal, as sharp as a sword and as big as a knife, came hurtling toward the ground, its point facing downward. It seemed that it had a target.
"Agh!"
The Captain cried out in pain as he lay sprawled out on the floor, the metal piece going directly through his heart, allowing only a few heartbeats before his final moments.
He noted how cold the air was, likely due to room's exposure to space. Each fleeting breath he took was seen through the steam coming from his mouth, and one could note the fact that blood was slowly spewing out of it.
As he choked on his own blood, he geared his eyes towards the transparent shutters, observing the Imperial fleet moving ever closer to the planet that he was supposed to protect, to the people he had sworn to keep safe. If he wasn't going to die, he would have had the mind to reorganize the defenses and maybe secure Sagritti.
But he was no fool. No, he fully understood that no one could have anticipated what exact plan Rome had for breaching the line. The Empire must have prepared years in advance, maybe even decades, for this operation, all the while the Light stood by and ignored the signs.
Perhaps the Empire was right, maybe one man truly had to rule in order to keep humanity intact.
Maybe Democracy was wrong.
This would be the last thought that Captain ever had. It would be the last thought many of his subordinates thought as well: was the Empire right? Was autocracy the answer?
This would be a thought that would begin to reverberate not only through soldiers in the Federal Light of Man, but in the citizens of this Republic as well. Fear spells doubt, doubt invites questions, and questions breed resentment.
It seemed as if the last bastion of Democracy needed a hero, and a hero they received. This hero would be initially as the "Hero of Sagritti."
But the Empire had a saviour. He would be known initially as the "Salvatorem Confractus", translated roughly to the "Saviour of the Break."
Which one would win?
Which one will save humanity?
In this war of conflicting ideologies, which one will finally bring peace to man?
As a wise man once said, "Be a Saviour, son. Not a Hero."
A sleek, jet black ship of the New Roman Empire glides across space. It unleashes its deadly combination of weaponry upon the enemy, destroying whole battleships in a mere instant. Its Tetron Cannon envelops ships of the enemy in a death ray of dark energy, completely annihilating crew and ship.
In this marvelous ship of Imperial pride and honour, resides a Rear Admiral of battlegroup Invictus. He commands 6,000 ships who are currently engaged with the Federal Light of Man, the Empire's sworn enemy.
The admiral retains a reputation for being swift in battle and strict when not. He has utilized his intelligence to devise tactics that decimate complete Hydra[16] spawns - a feat not to be ignored.
He is harsh towards his enemies, giving unrelenting strength when in combat and unmerciful deaths for those who surrender[17].
The uniform he donned was as black as his heart, as well as the black belt-strap that ran diagonally across his torso, crossing over one of the three gold buttons holding the jacket in place. The two gold hash marks on the cuff of the jacket - one larger than the other, with the former being sewn in first - conveyed his rank of Rear Admiral, or "Praeerat Tergo", a small eagle wrapped in a wreath placed above the marks to denote his status as an officer.
Travelling up the sleeve, the crest of the Empire appears in vibrant colors to exuberate the pride of his Roman service. His empatualets are gold in color, whose strings travel to the parting of the arm from the chest. Two cords attached to the shoulder connected to the middle of the three buttons, their excess length hanging rather loosely. On his right chest lies a red scroll enveloped in a wreath, marking his battlegroup's status as the best in the fleet.
If one slanted eyes to the left of his chest, it was quite obvious that the Admiral was highly decorated. To exercise authority, a belt that fit firmly on his waist was worn; the Imperial eagle engraved on the golden buckle[18].
However, the most stark feature of the Admiral were his eyes. They were cold and calculating, no mercy or compassion would be found in them. A simple biological trait seemed to turn the Admiral's eyes into a weapon, as it imbued fear in both friend and foe alike.
Many had died gruesome deaths whilst staring into said eyes, wondering if the devil himself was upon them.
The air seemed to drop below the freezing point everytime he gracefully but sternly traversed his vessel.
He sits upon a chair that should be described as a throne rather than a simple piece of furniture, for it would be insulting his Highness[19] to call it otherwise.
The throne of the Admiral is the centerpiece of the ship's CIC[20]. The room is perhaps the largest in any vessel in the Empire's armada, and it is not without necessity. The TACMAP, data-link system, and CENTCOM of the battlegroup is located in the CIC.
His Highness sits quietly with his legs crossed. His stare and stature exuberate a menacing aura, due to the fact that he was engaging his enemy. It ensured that all of his loyal subordinates were not adequately, but amazingly doing their jobs. His very presence caused his crew's efficiency rate to rise exponentially, giving Invictus quite an edge in battle.
His left arm lays across his waist, his fingers of the respective side tapping silently. His right hand holds his face up, the thumb pressed into the right side of his face and the finger falling firmly under his nose.
To his right stands his second, an Imperial Captain. The man is wearing the same uniform as his lord, albeit with with one hash mark of his cuff, a single cord rather than two, fewer decorations, and a silver buckle rather than a gold one.
He begins to speak.
"My lord."
"Yes?"
The Admiral swiveled his head toward his subordinate, inquiring as to why he was disturbing him in his time of thought.
"The traitor's defense fleet approaches. It appears they are advancing on Admiral Legatus' fleet as we speak, exactly as you planned."
"Of course they are. That old Admiral thinks that the Light is simply a mass of rebels. He is sorely mistaken. They are a unified force filled with hatred for the Empire. Do you know what hatred causes?"
"Desperation."
"Precisely. These men and women will do anything to ensure our downfall in a strategic and tactical sense. They will have studied our tactics and reviewed our formations. While they will not be able to secure this system, they will do whatever is within their power to counter our advance. Their ships number 15,500. There are only two battlegroups on this side of the planet, meaning 12,000 ships. They will utilize this fact and exploit it."
"How will we respond?"
"Respond? We will do no such thing."
"My lord?"
The Admiral understood his subordinate's confusion. In any normal strategic situation, he would respond with unrelenting force upon the enemy, smashing them into little bits, rendering them to nothing more than mere particles in space. But this situation called for a different response, or lack thereof.
"Admiral Legatus decided to split not only the fleet, but the battlegroups apart as well. This is his mistake, his burden, his punishment. The old man even signaled he was the lead element of the fleet with his extravagant dreadnought. His battlegroup will be the first to perish, annihilated by the enemy he believes is a mere insurgency. And with his dying breath, the bastard will call for the nearest battlegroup to assist. How do you think that is, Captain?"
"Us, my lord."
"Precisely. We will not respond. We shall use the time he is being decimated to destroy our remaining targets, then we shall lie in wait for their fleet to come to us."
"But my lord, will word not reach the Emperor of our actions?"
The Emperor of the Empire was a man that loved his people, and more specifically, his Generals and Admirals. Losing one was a serious loss to him, and while a dead leader could be replaced, his service and loyalty to the Empire could not. Thus, stating that what the Admiral of Invictus was planning was a risky endeavor, would be an understatement of massive proportions. If word reached Roma that he was deliberately leaving a Fleet Admiral to die, death would be a grace in comparison to what would be done to him.
"A dead men tells no tales, Captain. Especially those within this, very, ship."
The statement had more venom that words, so that those within earshot of the conversation would understand what would come of them if they were to develop a loose set of lips.
"Besides, even if word was to reach the Emperor, our lack of response to Admiral Legatus' call for help will be due to a communications malfunction, won't it Lieutenant Varsay?"
"Yes, my lord. At approximately 20 minutes from now, a communications error will take place within the Britannia[21]. We will not be able to contact the Admiral at that time."
"You see, Captain? A serious error will cause our lack of response."
The Captain standing beside his Admiral witnessed a grin. But it was not a grin of happiness nor was it for pleasure, it was one of absolute menace. He had seen this before, many times in fact. He had been with the Admiral since their days in the Academy[22] and was witness to the many brilliant, but sinister plots the Admiral would develop over the years. But this time, that expression was more menacing than usual.
"Indeed my lord. A tragic malfunction."
"Tragic for him, yes. But it allows us to eliminate a decrepit Fleet Admiral who favours glory over the lives of his men. The scum that I seek to eradicate in this Empire. That's the only way we will save Roma. The only way I can shape it to be an empire that my sister can properly live in."
Ah, yes. He had heard him speak of it many times. "Saving the Empire," that was his wish; his sole goal. It was what drove the Admiral to harbour resentment towards the current
Ministerium Classes[23], and in a small and treacherous way, the Emperor. But the Captain felt it as well, this unyielding disdain for the way the Emperor was currently situated. Especially for the way its Japanese citizens were treated.
But then again, one could say it was the same for everyone in Invictus. The battlegroup was made up of Japanese, American, and many Europeans[24]. Though they had cast aside those titles long ago: everyone was a Roman. There was no other race or ethnicity. Everyone was a Roman citizen, nothing more and most of all nothing less. Though, it was this way of forced identity that sewed the Roman Empire together, preventing it from collapsing like its democratic[25] predecessor.
"Hayato."
Surprise was streaked across the Captain's face, his mouth slightly agape. Not only did the Admiral address him by name, he used his Japanese name[26]. It wasn't as if the Admiral didn't use his name at all, but they were on the bridge in front of subordinates. Utilizing the name spoke volumes for the people currently in the room. He was left speechless.
"Hayato."
The second time his name was called, the Captain opted to respond.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Drop it."
The blonde stared at the man to his left. Then a smiled appeared on his face.
"Yes, Hachiman?"
"That's better."
The dark-haired Admiral gave a slight smile to his friend, turning back to the massive glass window in front of him once it expired, his medals clanking together slightly as he did.
"We have to save the Empire."
"Yes we do. Yes, we, do."
Both men stared into the many lasers and electromagnetic shots that flawlessly hit their targets. Each of their assigned platforms were being destroyed, their enemy crippled and broken.
"But first, let us crush these fools that believe in the false ideal of democracy, Captain."
"Yes, my lord. Their vain attempt at a free discord will be obliterated with their armadas and planets."
All in the CIC turned about, witnessing the terrifying sight at the head of Invictus.
A dark shroud seemed to envelop the area around their person, small wisps of darkness rolled over the edges of the platform, and the aura being emitted would envelop one in fear if they came too close.
A pair of gray eyes spread wolves across the CIC, causing some to fall out of their chairs in an attempt to escape from figures of their imagination.
A duo of blue eyes gives ones who look into them a sense of security, only to be thrust into the ongoing battle taking place outside.
Although harrowing, the experience ironically encourages the crew to work harder to achieve their designated objectives, and to kill their enemies.
"We will deliver both the Empire and the Light from themselves, and usher in a new era of galactic dominance. For the betterment of all, and to save us all."
"Yes, my lord."
[1] Japanese for Admiral.
[2] Japanese for General.
[3] Reference to Kingdom Come: Deliverance
[4] Stands for Universal Dollars. As the name suggests, it was a universal currency used on Earth before The Beyond.
[5] Due to the progression of weaponry over the course of human progression, the United Galactic States, and their successors, mark innovations in weaponry in stages. Stage 1 refers to the crude and primitive weapons used by those in The Beyond.
[6] Stands for Light Years.
[7] Homeworld of the Asari in the Mass Effect universe, and in this universe, the first human colony.
[8] Search up the Mass Effect map. The seventh picture should show the areas of control in the the Mass Effect galaxy. The Earth and Inner Council Space is the territory that the UGS controlled. For reference, divide that space roughly in half. The top portion would be controlled by the New Roman Empire and the lower half the Federal Light of Man.
[9] Stands for Galactic Time.
[10] The crest of the FLM has a lion on it.
[11] Stands for Tactical Map.
[12] Stands for Non-commissioned officers. Backbone of any service.
[13] Each system has a designated warp entry point to ensure safety of entrance. Half of the Imperial fleet overshot said entry point to arrive on the other side of the planet. Doing so requires very skilled pilots.
[14] Lasers that are engineered to utilize Gamma rays as weaponry. Very effective against armour.
[15] Cannons that are only used on Battleships or Super-dreadnoughts. Use dark matter and convert said matter into dark energy that acts as an anti-material ray.
[16] Hydra spawns are ginormous space-faring species that travel in groups of five. As big as a carrier.
[17] The Roman Empire has a policy of take-no-prisoners. While this policy is not enforced, a prisoner of war must have significant meaning in order to be accommodated for.
[18] The Imperial Eagle is the symbol of the Emperor and servitude in the Armed Forces of the New Roman Empire.
[19] Any rank of Admiral grants its holder nobility. The same is true for Generals and Air Marshals.
[20] Command Information Center.
[21] The name of Admiral Hikigaya's flagship super-dreadnought.
[22] Imperial Captain Hayato Hayama and Rear Admiral Hachiman Hikigaya both attended the infamous Imperial Officer's Academy together. Putting aside past differences, the two managed to become a feared duo among their classmates, Admiral Hikigaya being known for his cunning and ruthless tactics and Captain Hayama known for his deception and enforcement. Together, both men have gathered many enemies and many constituents. They are also known for being great friends.
[23] Ministry of the Navy.
[24] Former citizens of Japan, The United States of America (Canada and Mexico included), and the European Union attempted a democratic upheaval of the New Roman Empire shortly after its establishment, as Earth was quickly secured as the Empire's capital. Resentment to anyone of said nation's descent is high in the Empire, a paradox to the Emperor's emphasis on cultural integration. Thus, these citizens have been "unintentionally" segregated into singular battlegroups within a fleet. The Imperial Army and Imperial Air Fleet have desegregated their units, but the Navy refuses to desegregate, courtesy of the Ministerium Classes.
[25] Notice Democracy is capitalized when in the view of the Federal Light of Man, and is lower-case when in the view of the Empire.
[26] Every citizen in the Empire is given a Roman name, and it is expected to be used. Using a Japanese name indicates Admiral Hikigaya is discontent with the current status of the Empire.
Authors Note
Hello. For the uniforms described in this chapter, please search "Milosh-Andrich's New Order Officer Coat Uniform" for Hikigaya's and Hayama's uniform, and "Milosh-Andrich's New Order Officer Uniform" for the Federal Light of Man uniform. Hikigaya's and Hayama's uniform will be under "Space Fleet." Obviously, some changes have been made. As for the FLM uniform, the "Imperial Security Service" uniform will be the FLM's uniform. Some changes have obviously been made. All credit goes to the author of this art, not me.
Updates will not be regular. When I feel like it, I shall upload another chapter.
Thank you for reading.