February 3rd, 2185 CFV Might of Palaven.
The Kodiak had just docked and Shepard was already out the door and toward the bridge. Behind him, his still wounded team hobbled behind as they dressed down any bleeding and made their way to the medical bay. Shepard meanwhile was on a warpath through the Turian made ship. Crewman would give the greeting of the day only to find the human officer giving only angry grunts as he ascended the elevator toward the CIC before slamming out of the door. Miranda was beside two Turians and a Salarian, each of them going over the highlighted Imperial fleet on the table in front of them.
"Standard deployment, I estimate the planet will fall in less than three hours at this rate."
"Their bombardment has not ceased once, something tells me our team was found out some way or another and this is their response."
"A dead hero will do that, to save face they;d rather eradicate the possibility of his existence."
Shepard was stomping up to the four intel officers still chatting as he shouted, shaking them out of their conversation and drawing their attention away.
"What the fuck just happened down there?"
The Salarian and Turians looked to each other, daring the others to answer for them. Miranda meanwhile looked Shepard up and down, gave a nod, and then spoke clearly.
"It was a bad op, we didn't have all the intel and well, you found out just what exactly was going on down there. So I thank you for that."
"I had men die down they're just to find out the Council wanted to ally with a bunch of psychopaths!"
Miranda looked back to the table as a line of fire erupted from the belly of a star destroyer.
"This is a war, a real war against an enemy that outnumbers us a thousand to one. There are going to be casualties, men and women will die in the field under your command. You of all people should know this."
He didn't want to accept it, but she was right. Her logic was cold and unforgiving, to her, the soldiers were numbers, ships statistics, and the war nothing but a game of applying force where it was needed. Shepard didn't want to accept it, not at all, but here he was, surrounded by people who had fought with this line of thought for three years. Three years and this was where it had taken them, allying with murderers. Fuck.
He huffed, releasing the pent up oxygen in his system before dropping his hate-filled stare.
"Goddammit Miranda, what has become of the council, what has become of the organization for peace and security!"
The woman's eyes dimmed, her hands moving the table controls as she pulled up a security video feed live from the ground.
"Come and take a look, Shepard, see what we have to deal with, what we have to fight to even stay alive, and repeat what you said."
It was a HAB block chock full of civilians running in one direction, men, women, children, all of them running as some looked behind them toward an approaching threat.
"What the hell?"
The old, the sick, the dying were left behind as the crowd ran with all their power away from whatever was giving chase. There weren't any tell-tale red blasts so no clones, or Imperial army for that matter. No yellow, red, or green racers so no former alliance soldiers chasing down a bunch of civilians, so what the hell was it? His thoughts were broken as he saw the first creature enter the screen, he had seen it before, the memories coming back as he heard Liara's scream enter his mind.
"No, they wouldn't, how the fuck!"
Those jet black creatures, all talons and blades, were chasing the civilians in the dozens as they covered every inch of the street in their pursuit of the prey. For those left behind, Shepard could barely watch as the creatures leaped upon them with blades and talons already flying. He couldn't hear the screams, but he could only guess what it sounded like as flesh was ripped from bone as those left behind met their fate.
"Whenever the main resistance has been defeated, the Empire will release these creatures, what we have come to know as Xenomorphs. Bioengineered beings made for the sole purpose of instilling fear into the populace and reminding them just how little they matter to the Empire. This same scene has been repeated on a hundred worlds, where thousands of people are chewed up and spit out as an act of terror. This is how they keep them in line Shepard, this is how they stomp out rebellion in the minds of every citizen left alive. Terror."
Shepard was speechless, having faced these things before with proper weapons he knew just how terrifying these things were. But to be a civilian, with no training or weapons, they were as good as dead.
"We have fought and bled to just survive to where we are today, it is believed with the resurrection of you that we will regain the initiative and take the fight back to the Empire for a change. With this duty you must be prepared for men to die under your command, as this is a war, a real war which spans two galaxies and we must be prepared to sacrifice."
Shepard was silent to her speech, his thoughts full of different questions and answers, he only nodded as he began walking back toward the elevator.
"Shepard, we are leaving this system for Omega, ETA is eight hours so be prepared for your next mission."
Omega, shit.
February 3rd, 2335 (Imperial Calendar) 334th Adri Prime Auxilia.
Three years, three long years of constant was on a front line that never seemed to change and finally, they were being sent back home for R and R. How much had changed in his absence, what had become of the homeworld, the Citadel, and even the galaxy itself? These questions plagued Garrus's mind as he felt the ship rock beneath him as it transitioned from hyperspace to real space. With their victory on the last world of Un against the T45s, the entire legion had been given leave by the sector commander, a full Grand General. He had been witness to that last charge toward the enemy lines, in that mid crusted battlefield full of the dead and dying he had watched as the legion assaulted head-on with the robotic lines and won the day.
Four thousand casualties had been taken, mostly newbies from one world or another, but they had won. Driven the enemy back and allowed an Imperial army regiment to encircle and destroy what was left of this world's defenders. The nine seventy-fifth or something like that, good soldiers, a little cocky but that came with being members of the Imperial Army. They were sent beside them to the old world, a regiment and a legion were given R and R together, unheard of within the wider picture of things. For one, no auxilia legion had even been given R and R and two, they were never working beside the Imperial army like this.
Some commanders were afraid of desertion in the ranks, call for war among the locals as they saw what had become of the men and women they sent abroad. Rubbing the back of his head, right between the two plates, Garrus knew exactly where his loyalties lied. Then looking upon the now battered white armor he wore on his shoulders, he reaffirmed his belief in the commanders above him. He was an Imperial, a spirits damned Imperial who had fought and bled for the Empire, and he accepted this. His life had changed dramatically in the last few years, having gone from a cop to a soldier tracking down a war criminal, to an Imperial NCO and officer.
"Lieutenant Garrus Vakarian."
It rolled off his tongue as he spoke his name. A true officer in an army he could be proud of. The Auxilia, the finest fighting force he had ever seen, the Auxilia, his friends, brothers, and sisters who fought on dozens of worlds and won the day, the Auxilia, his home. His self-reflection was broken by a speaker wide call across the ship.
"All officers of the three thirty-fourth and the nine seventy-fifth, report to the deployment bay for a briefing. I say again, all officers of the three thirty fourth….
Garrus didn't have to be told twice, getting up from the stack of ammunition crates that were currently acting as his chair he began making his way toward the briefing.
Ten minutes later.
Acclamators, love them or hate them, they were a mean bitch of a ship. Being the bread and butter of Imperial troop deployment, he'd ridden on close to a dozen of the things during his service to the Empire. They all had their quirks he had come to know, a leak here, an extra space there, but in general, they all shared the same shape. Garrus passed a dozen clones, who gave him a nod as he passed. Fleet marines, troopers whose purpose was the protection of the ship against boarding or other possible issues that could arise. Three years ago they would have shot him on the spot and left his corpse to rot. But times change, and seeing the two clone pauldrons on his armor they knew just who he was and what he had done. He was like them, a soldier who had served beside their brother and honored him by wearing his armor. Loyalty was everything in their eyes, and he saw to it that he respected that loyalty.
Entering the deployment bay would never cease to amaze the Turian. Dozens of armored walkers, tanks, and all manner of LAATs and their directives met his eyes. With them came the crews at work conducting maintenance in the dozens as they made sure the vehicles were ready at a moment's notice. Garrus ran his hand along the side of an LAAT as he walked past. Damn good craft they were, in a fight they were a blessing to have, and he'd ridden plenty of the things into battle.
The chatter of zones of officers met his ears as he found the briefing area. A small stage had been erected in the center of a wide pool of officers of all ranks. Captain, LTs, even a lieutenant commander here, everyone was dutifully waiting as the two beg honchos from both units ascended the stage.
They looked so different from each other, one a clone in a Kama with blue and orange markings on his armor who looked like he had a permanent stick up his ass. While the other was a baseline human, green camouflage uniform with a small rank plaque and his name. It was obvious to Garrus who carried the real authority but he said nothing of it. No one would question a legionnaire, not one of the Emperors elite, not a clone. Garrus was near the back, listening to the chatting of the local officers from his legion as his commander gave a call to attention.
"Officers of the three thirty-fourth! Attention!"
They all snapped to attention, to the baseline humans it was an oddity as they noted the different races holding rank plaques among the three thirty-fourth. All the captains and lieutenant commanders were clones while almost all of the lieutenants were aliens. Tended to happen when your frontline officers died in the field, Garrus could see Batarians, a few turians, and even a salarian among those wearing the rank of an Imperial officer proudly. Each of them stood ramrod straight, their chest puffed out and almost oozing a sense of confidence.
On the other side of the coin, the Imperial army commander looked over the now assembled officers of their sister unit before snapping to attention himself.
"Nine seventy-fifth Coruscant Regiment, Attention!"
The baselines repeated the effort with less pizzaz than the clones and aliens, but still respectable. The assembled commander spoke in private for a second before the clone took the lead before the assembled officers.
"In the coming, this ship is to dock with the Omega station. Due to our recent efforts on the world of Ur as you know, our units have been given a week's leave from the front in order to get some rest and recovery. I understand my brothers do not know exactly what this means, but the baselines and aliens understand it well. During this time, this week of freedom as it is called, there will be a set of guidelines pushed out for every soldier within our units to follow. It will depend on you, and the NCOs under your command to be sure that every soldier is fit and ready to go after a week's time. Seven days ladies and gentlemen, seven with which we shall all use as a decompression from our very long campaigns. All assembled, fall out to your respective units. We arrive in hours."
Garrus felt the stiffness leave his body as the order was given, a week, a whole week of leave, of not having to wear his uniform, of not having to wear armor!
It was everything he could have asked for, word had it they had even cleaned up Omega in the last three years. Gone were the days of pirates and gang lords ruling the station, in their place strict Imperial administrators that made sure the corruption was gone. During the Imperial assault years ago, they'd killed off most of the high-level leadership but had missed the queen herself. Wonder where she was now? Probably leading a pirate force or dead, killed at the hands of the Imperial navy. He was walking back to the elevator with a group of other three thirty-fourth officers when an Imperial captain in green camo fatigues stepped in his path and stopped. Garrus did not look her in the eye due to his height and made his way to go around when the Captain stepped in front of him once again.
"Excuse me, ma'am, I must.."
"Garrus?"
He froze, for only one person in the entire universe had that voice and as he looked down he saw the face of Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams.
Task Force 18, Northern edge of Imperial space. February 3rd, 2185
Rear Admiral Danforth had served his empire for close to thirty years now. Thirty years of leading the most powerful ships in existence across the stars as they burned a path for Imperial colonization. He'd done plenty of things which would warrant in some circles his arrest but in the Imperial navy, orders were given and followed to the letter, no ifs, and, or buts. Most recently his task force consisting of eight Imperial-class star destroyers had been involved in a subjugation campaign of a rebelling Imperial world. Its people, in all their grand wisdom, had decided to ally with the keepers of the shroud. Their allegiance to these reprehensible beings had earned them an early grave as his ship bombarded the planet before ten full legions of clones struck.
Such was the life in the navy, go here, do this, be done and move out to the next objective. There was always a war somewhere as almost everyone in the now two galaxies had a bone to pick with the Imperial authority. Rebels, foreign nations, the survivors of the last war, all of the enemies of the state and all of them directly in his sights.
His latest orders had sent him to the most northern edge of Imperial space, a task force just like his had gone missing. Now a missing task force was always a cause for concern with the ships and personnel having cost the Empire billions of credits. But it was the way it had gone missing, no radio, no distress calls, just gone after it had jumped into a star system not usually used by the navy. Four Venators, three Victory-class, and a troop transport, no small fleet when it came to might and so, he and his task force had been redirected to find them.
"TF twenty-three, where are you?"
"My lord Admiral, the transition to real space in thirty seconds."
It was always good to be on the bridge when these things happened, to show one's face among the rank and file men and clones as he took control of the overall situation. In the wrenches around him, the bridge crew chatted, shouting orders and muffled responses, he wasn't sure he could ever get used to anything else.
"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two one… transition to real space!"
The blue corona of hyperplane travel broke as the blackness of the void enveloped his view screen. There was nothing to note from the reports on this system, a blue sun, a single gas giant, and a small planetoid capable of housing life. It would probably be colonized within the decade if the local threats were dealt with. He was scanning over the fleet jumping in beside him as the watch over and radar operator suddenly tensed up at seeing something.
"My lord Admiral, the fleet…"
Danforth turned to the officer now ghastly white in his seat.
"Spit it out man, what is it!"
"Wreckage, all of it sir, I'm getting signals here from every Imperial vessel. All dead."
Danforth took a deep breath, before looking out the window toward the void once again.
"Order the fleet into a patrol pattern, we shall find out what happened here."
And we will avenge our fallen, were his only thoughts.
The Ring of Iron, Rannoch February 3rd, 2185
Tali had just finished her shift on the upper bridge of the still under construction INV Daedalus when the station-wide call had gone across every channel available. An Imperial vessel had just entered the system, and she was limping for the dockyards. She and every other being close enough to its designated berth was to prepare for its arrival and assist in helping with anything it's crew needed. So she found herself riding a tram with two dozen other Quarians as they rocketed toward dock thirteen with every ounce of energy the vehicle could push them. The Tramlines ran along the upper structure of the ring, allowing personnel to go from one side to the other in a little under four hours. These trains held windows open to the void, allowing the occupants to see vessels coming and leaving at all times of the day. The Quarians were all chatting about what could have happened, theories were thrown around from engine trouble to possible pirate attack but when a single dockworker screamed all of the turned toward the window facing the relay.
Dock thirteen through forty were reserved for only one type of vessel in the Imperial navy, the second largest and most powerful thing to have ever been made on the ring. A titan, a seventeen-kilometer long floating city of guns and steel that held over one hundred thousand crewmen under full capacity. These massive ships would normally be the flagships of entire fleets, their massive size and bulk surrounded by dozens of smaller ships like star destroyers, cruisers, and carriers whose sole purpose was the protection of such a valuable asset. So when Tali, and the two dozen Quarians all spotted the still flaming and smoking wreckage of a ship coming towards them, they all collectively gasped in fear.
What could have done such a thing? Was the first question all of them asked when they laid eyes on the scorched wreck slowly but surely moving under its own power toward them. Having constructed some of the metal beast of war, they knew just how powerfully armored the ships were. Meters of metal, three different sets of shields, and over one thousand guns of all types covered the ship from bow to stern. So what, in all of the two universes, was capable of almost gutting one of these men of war? Tali was still going over the same questions inj her mind as the ship entered the docking clamps for its berth and the tram arrived at its destination.
The ship had only been docked for a few minutes by the time they had arrived and already it was scenes of panic everywhere. The line they were currently on serviced the command bridge, where officers, clones, and crewmen could be found making sure the ship functioned as it was designed. So it was when the doors opened and the first thing Tali saw was the lines of bodies on either side of the hallway that she knew something had gone wrong. The bridge was supposed to be the most protected part of an Imperial ship, this was where the most power was directed for shields and armor. On a Titan class warship, it should have been all but impenetrable. So when she saw the bodies, and the ranks on their uniforms she knew, something had happened, and it was big.
"Get over here! I need hands!"
Imperial medics ushered the Quarians forward and toward the bridge. They followed between the rows of bodies, so many bodies Tali noted that she lost count around two hundred and three. The umbilical tube running onto the bridge was covered in blood from how many bodies had already been pulled out with smoke from onboard fires choking the rescuers as they entered the bridge. The deck plates were slick with the red fluid, making travel hazardous as the Quarians and human medics entered what had become of the bridge. Now Tali had worked on a Titan for three years now, three years of building and constructing the stations and crew compartment for over three hundred fleet personnel. So when she saw what had become of the home of this ship's command team, she was speechless.
Blast marks covered the metal everywhere she looked. The floor was wet with the red hue of human blood on every station or surface capable of carrying such a substance. And the bodies, so many bodies littered the floor everywhere she looked. Clones, officers, regular crewmen, and officers, it didn't matter as she witnessed every rank imaginable dead or dying on the floor. Her eyes were scanning for anything still alive when she began to note the wounds on those closest to her, and just how violent they were. Slash marks, as if long talons had physically cut the bodies in half where they had sat. She saw a clone, whose torso was ten feet away from his legs leaking an ungodly amount of blood onto the deck. But no enemy bodies, no great beast, no humanoid aliens, nothing. What in all the ancestors' names had happened here?
The medics were directing Qurians toward those that could be saved, those still breathing, or those that clung to life in these hell-like places. Tali was following one toward the Admirals area, almost sprinting as they finally caught sight of the command throne and the commander of an entire Imperial fleet.
The Admiral, whose name she didn't know, was at the feet of his command chair barely clinging to life. In his hand, he held a pistol, the barrel still a cheery red as if it had just fired, while his other handheld onto a wound leaking blood through his fingers. Two clones lay dead in front of him, by the markings of their armor and the skirts and pauldrons, Tali denoted them as being legion commanders. The medic pushed the two dead commanders out of the way and went straight for the Admiral. The old man's eyes lit up, fully aware as his hands touched the man's skin.
"No, get the hell off me shroud beast!"
The pistol went up causing the medic to swipe it away and get face level with the man.
"Sir, I'm an Imperial medic! The enemy is gone, your ship is in friendly waters!"
The Admiral seemed to have heard the man as his pistol fell from his hand and clambered into the floor, earring a hiss of steam as it hit the blood on the floor.
"Quarian, come here and hold the wound while I pull out the medigel!"
She did as ordered, having done this plenty of times before when she had served with Shepard, so she knew exactly what to do and where to place her hands as the medic went to work on his aid bag. The Admiral looked down at her three-fingered hands holding his life force inside before pulling his head up and looking into her face mask. He let loose a smile as his eyes began to take on a glassy look and his arm stretched out too slowly caress her realk.
"Such pretty colors…."
The medic had just pulled out the tube of life-saving medigel when the Admiral's arm fell to his side and his face slowly went down and left. His blood stopped pushing out between her fingers as his breathing ceased, the Admiral, the commanding officer of an entire Imperial fleet, died on the bridge of his ship, and at the feet of his chair. The medic said some words before using his hand to close the old man's eyes and getting up from the command chair.
"Alright, move out and search for more survivors. Somebody had to drive this wreck into the docks, find out who."
And with that he was gone, moving from body to body trying to find somebody alive. Tali took one last look at the Admiral before moving out toward the closest white armored form, one that didn't look like it had been mauled by an animal of some kind. Tali approached the downed form sprawled over a console with caution. Inside the trench, the blood from all the bodies had coagulated and left a sticky residue that her feet were now touching as she lowered herself downward. The technicians were obviously dead, all three of their chest ripped open but the clone was sprawled over a console with most of his white armor still white. Slowly she put both of her hands beneath his armpits before lowering his body to the floor. No small feat considering his was around two hundred pounds but with all her might she tried the most she could to lessen the blow. Another pair of Qurians moved above her, giving her no mind as they went to search others to save.
Before she had been given a job here, she and every other Quarian had been put through required medical training in the case of an emergency just like this one. Two weeks they had learned the in and outs of any possible situation they could find themselves in, one of those being battlefield trauma. Apparently in the empire, it was common for shipyards to become battlefields. So using her knowledge she went over the key points of discussion and found out the status of this trooper.
Shallow breathing.
One open wound to the leg, two to the upper arms.
Not responding to verbal stimuli.
Hooking her hands under his helmet, she reached for the depressurization switch and found it with her big finger. Just as she was about to hit the switch she felt one, a wrist grasp her hand and pull it away in an iron grip. Two a very sharp object was in her ribcage and risked piercing her suit, a literal death sentence for her. Looking down with wide glowing eyes she saw the helmet slowly but surely move, the black eyepieces locking with her before the hand and knife fell away.
"Not a demon, not a demon, medigel on my belt. Apply to wounds as needed."
Tali complied, pulling the IFAK off his belt. She pulled out the tube and began applying the clear liquid to whatever she could find that was life-threatening, small burns, large gashes, and a medium-sized slash on his leg. With that done she marked a small M in blue ink on his helmet, marking him as already having had medigel. With the life-threatening injuries having been dealt with she looped both hands under his shoulder again and pulled him up into a sitting position on the wall of the trench. Thankfully he didn't resist, his armor creaked as he finally sat up. With him taken care of, she had to move on and find others possibly in need of help. As she was walking away toward the next form, she swore she could hear a small voice speak through a helmet modulator.
"Thank you."
Three hours later.
Tali sat beside a hundred other Quarian first responders. It had been a hell of a day for all of them, literally. Tali had never seen such carnage before, not even when she had been with Shepard during the search for Saren. So much blood, so many limbs, so many broken bodies that would never move again. She just couldn't understand what could have done such a thing and how they could have even boarded a Titan. Each of the people she had personally attended to had spoken of "demons". Monsters she guessed, maybe even feral beasts let loose on the ship. It reminded her of the Xenomorphs the navy used for fleet security, but they couldn't have done this considering their blood would have cut its way through the ship on their death and then there was the reason for bodies. Or the fact there were none, not a single corpse had been found on the entire bridge other than those of Imperial crewman, officers, and clones. She couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong here, something so terribly wrong that it even had the navy personnel she had run into spooked on a level she had never seen before. She mulled over the information as she took another bite of the paste she had been gnawing on for ten minutes now. All of it didn't add up, a Titan defeated, an Imperial fleet supposedly destroyed. Something was out their, that was willing and able to go toe to toe with over one hundred Imperial capital ships and win so just what the hell was it?
Breaking her thoughts, she felt the three-fingered hand of a Quarian on her shoulder and looked up to see a red realk beside her.
"This seat taken?"
Kal'Reegar, former migrant fleet marines turned ring security. He was a good guy, always there to provide aid or defuse a situation. Not her type but she could be friendly.
"No, please sit."
The male Qurian plopped down beside her before pulling out his omni tool, the orange glow was at the edge of her vision as he spoke.
"We went through the entire ship and did not find a single thing. An entire legion beside the twenty-five thousand cops from ring security and we didn't find a thing. Isn't that crazy?"
"Yeah, did you see any xenomorphs?"
"All dead, killed in their nest areas by the same things that killed the crew. Casualty estimates are at sixty-five thousand and climbing, it's a miracle they made it back to the dockyards at all."
A miracle indeed.
"So what now then, any word from FLEETCOM?"
The red-clothed Quarian sighed, his shoulder sagging just a tad as he leaned back onto the bench they both sat on.
"Yeah, a full ten legions are to be garrisoned in the ring and Rannoch. A hundred thousand more clones alongside an entire armada to guard the ring. Strategic value absolute was what they told us but, it's just my job to make sure the rings stay safe."
An armada, maybe twenty, thirty-star destroyers with maybe a dreadnought or two. Throw in a few carriers, the fifty or so cruisers, frigates, and destroyers, and Rannoch would be the most guarded planet in the empire besides Earth and Coruscant. She wondered what father would think of it all, being the human governor's main counselor to the Quarian people, she could only wonder what was going through his mind right now.
"Have you heard about the AOF?"
All her thoughts ground to a halt at the name of the Empire most hated enemy in this galaxy. With a flash, she turned toward Reegar who was already holding up two hands in surrender before she even spoke.
"Look I'm not saying anything good about them, I was just gonna say they found another one of their bases in Terminus. A little too close to Quarian space for my liking, Imperial SF already took care of it though."
If there was one thing no Imperial citizen wanted associated with them, it was the AOF. Even a hint of allegiance to the organization and you were lost, black bagged in the middle of the night and taken somewhere never to be seen again. She couldn't risk herself or her father, an ISB team would give no care for his standing among her people or her relation to the man. They would both be gone, ripped from history, their family line dying with them.
"Kal, please I beg of you, do not bring up the AOF around me again, and for your own sake don't ever speak of them again. I'll see you later."
She left the red-suited Quarian sitting on the bench, lost in his thoughts as he stared upon the still smoldering Titan.
February 3rd, 2185
She was sitting in a maintenance duck, her limbs splayed out, and holding her body lock tight to the frame as she awaited the patrol below. She could hear them, their booted feet on the metal floor moving toward her as they patrolled this section of the block. Imperial police, a new thing to the former pirate world of Omega. There were fifty thousand of the officers patrolling the station at any given time. Fifty thousand off worlds, all from the other galaxy and all filled the brim with Imperial propaganda. She;d spoken with them before, drank with them as they described homeworlds of money, value, industry, all of it built by the Empire as it cared for its people on a thousand worlds or more.
She thought it was bullshit personally, lies either fed to them or bullshit they spouted to get more people to their cause. And for once, the bullshit was working. The station had changed in the last three years, having gone from the once gateway to the terminus to what it was now was a complete one-eighty. No more gangs, now more wars for territory, no more drugs or hookers on every corner, all of it just gone. So why then was it bad someone would ask? Well, when you looked deeper into it you saw the brutality, what had really happened to all those people who had once committed all those acts and been responsible for those crimes.
They were carted off, put in the hulls of ships bound for the other universe, and sent to war. Enroute and explosive charges would be implanted in their head to make them loyal, to be sure they wouldn't turn on their new masters. And on those battlefields they died in the tens of thousands, none of them returned, because none of them survived. That was how they remade Omega, by shipping off the trash to die and replacing it with what it was now. Omega had become a hub for refugees from the war, aliens, humans, it didn't matter as they were given newly built HAB blocks and settled down with jobs to make weapons and tools for the empire. If they weren't in an industry they were miners, thousands of them going to the mines every day to dig out the element zero deposits for the navy.
An amazing piece of social engineering, with jobs, healthcare, security, but it all rubbed her the wrong way with the other aspect of it all. The control, the power with which the government held the citizen under an iron grasp so powerful that it was impossible to break. It reminded her of her childhood, the way her captors kept her going, the way in which she was made and grown. Replace one evil for another, that's all it was to her. Behind all the cleanliness, all the money, all the guns, it was all ugly and she hated it.
The cops were right below her now, beat cops, they wouldn't last long against her. She was in the middle of uncoiling her frame from the hatch, her legs and arms relaxing and ready to strike when she heard one of their radios squawk.
"Juliet three, redirect to fifteenth Street, we have a home dispute in progress at HAB block three room two two one over."
"Rog Control, moving now."
She reaffirmed her grip to the metal structure, the cops leaving toward the HAB block as she waited. Two minutes passed before she lowered herself from the frame and onto the floor. Another day then, she would get her revenge, another day she would make the Empire pay for its crimes.