Traveling along the western outskirts of the South Quadrant, a chunky warship sped through the void of space. The average-sized warship could barely be noticed as it traversed the newly explored region of the quadrant in the Imperial Solar System. An invisible shield wasn't the cause for its low visibility; rather, it was due to its black color that enabled the warship to slink through the depths of the darkness of space with little detectability, or at least, to the naked eye. The entire structure of the warship was quite simple: it literally resembled that of a flying metal rectangular box, with slight changes to allow it to function as a part of a fleet. This warship wasn't necessarily meant for fighting in destructive space battles normally fought by the Imperialists. It was designed for scouting, but with enough features that allowed it to defend itself and function as a military vehicle, while keeping speed and agility in mind. With this concept in mind, the warship could easily be morphed with the aforementioned box and an arrow. The main body of the ship was a simple, rectangular form. As one examined the front of the warship, it would taper slightly as if it was the point of an arrow. The rear of the ship seemed to expand to be larger than the body, with massive engines possessing enough power to thrust the warship at lightening-fast speeds through space.
It has been said that the color of the warship was black. A black color that blended so well with space that it if it weren't for the red exhaust trailing behind the ship, it wouldn't be noticeable. The Imperialists believed that black was the color of danger; indeed, it is easily confirmed that this belief is true. Black not only symbolized danger and slightly camouflaged the warship, but gave that extra effect of surprise and death to unexpecting innocents. The combination of black and red exhaust propelling the warship forward gave an aura of certain threat to anyone observing the warship, as well as almost inevitable demise. If one were to examine the weaponry this warship possessed, it would be confirmed that very little power was required to obliterate unprepared enemy fleets or worlds. This warship wasn't meant for simply strolling through the universe and destroying enemy fleets for fun, though. The Imperialists put more emphasis on protecting the scout warship with the weaponry, which would enable it to defend itself while reinforcements could be sent in to destroy the fleet or world the warship encountered.
Since the Imperialists thought to keep things simple but powerful, the weaponry on the warship was both simple but highly functional. At the front of the ship, just beneath the arrow-point-like bridge, two photon torpedo launchers projected proudly into space, poking the nothingness with their long, slender shape. The antimatter torpedoes that could be shot from these launchers were simple to load, fire, and reload, as well as quite effective when it came to fighting against large enemy ships. Sticking out of both sides of the main body, a pair of phased plasma guns menacingly point to the front of the warship, ready to ruthlessly dissipate the shields of enemy fleets to allow easy destruction with the photon torpedoes. These two sets of weapons might have looked rather simple and not very powerful on the surface, but once the warship was engaged in battle, they would prove to be especially effective at allowing the warship to perform its duties with little hindrance. Working in combination, the plasma guns and photon launchers could destroy a small fleet of weak enemies or manage to keep a powerful fleet at bay until Imperialist reinforcements could arrive. These two weapons weren't the only ones on the warship, either; a series of smaller, less-powerful cannons could be independently operated by crewmen to defend against missile attacks by enemy warships.
There were three engines that powered this ship as it bolted through the South Quadrant. Two of the engines were meant for acceleration, while the third, and largest, was intended for maximum velocity. The two smaller engines employed one of the Imperialist key concepts: effectiveness. Antimatter powered the two small engines, allowing the warship to accelerate very quickly and efficiently. The large engine employed the second key concept: simplicity. Once the antimatter engines reached their full potential, the largest engine would start, providing its ion-powered efficiency to thrust the warship to its top speed and leave behind a trail of red ion exhaust. Working in combination, these engines accomplished two essential goals of every scout ship: quick acceleration and high speed. Both engines were quite efficient, allowing the warship to traverse entire quadrants of the Imperial Solar System without needing to refuel. Additionally, the warship possessed another essential transportation device every intergalactic-traveling ship requires: warp drive. Once the warship accelerated to enough speed, it could activate the drive and create the all-too-familiar wormhole of exotic matter and traverse a mind-numbingly long distance through the void of space within mere moments.
Some plausible arguments can be made against the effectiveness of this warship. Clearly, it seems to be quite powerful with its ion and antimatter sources of energy. How, though, is this ship able to obtain antimatter to begin with, and how could it possibly be stored? Such a dangerous resource must be hard to come by, let alone store. This concern can be quickly explained by simply thinking about the race which is being spoken of. The Imperialists discovered antimatter hundreds of years ago, and were able to harness its power shortly after its discovery. Not a century later, the Imperial Solar System found a way to efficiently create antiprotons, since antielectrons were very inefficient to store once created. The Imperialists equipped every ship of their fleets with typical storing devices where the antiprotons can be stored within cold, evacuated, and electromagnetic traps that allowed easy access for both engine fuel or creation of an antimatter bomb. Since such small quantities yielded such massive power, one refueling of antimatter could enable the Imperialist fleets to travel unfathomable distances without worry of running out of energy. A second argument that could be made is related to the obviously slow acceleration of the ion engine. This argument, too, is simple to explain. It makes logical sense that the antimatter engines allow the warship to obtain incredible velocity, and only after such speed is achieved can the ion engine begin its slow but gradual and efficient acceleration to even higher speeds.
Despite these facts which illustrate the awesome power of the warship, there was one weakness that plagued the powerful ship: the lack of a shield. This warship was built during a short battle with another system, and the Imperialists decided upon a simple militaristic strategy: quantity. Hundreds of warships quite similar to the one just described were constructed during the time of the skirmish in an attempt to overwhelm the enemy and eventually defeat them. Because of this goal, the Imperialists overlooked the need for a shield, as they were regarded as unnecessary and a poor waste of resources. When the Imperialists attacked the enemy system shortly after an invasion that has yet to be told of, they weren't expecting to be met by an equally powerful force and suffered a huge loss. Only a handful of the mass-produced warships escaped the skirmish and returned home to report of the unaccomplished mission. The Imperialists decided to postpone another attack and transformed the returned warships into scout ships to explore the mentioned region of the South Quadrant.
Why were they exploring the South Quadrant? Perhaps an investigation of the internal workings of the warship may help.
"Get up you lazy-ass scum! The Emperor can't complete this invasion without your worthless souls!"
Tray Gorgeon started as the gruff words ate through his skull and into his subconscious slumber, brutally waking him from the peaceful confines of sleep. On instinct, his eyes flew open and dilated as the blinding light assaulted his jet-black pupils. The room erupted into a frenzy of disgruntled mumblings as the clearly annoyed recruits forced themselves from the realm of drowsiness and into reality, scrambling out of the bunk beds lining the walls of the soldier's quarters. Tray's nose was abruptly bombarded with a musky odor as the blankets of the beds were strewn about, stirring the scent of sleeping men into the air. Within three seconds after the rude awakening, thirty recruits stood beside their beds and looked past the bare metal walls to stare in the eyes of their careless commander.
"Three seconds is the best you can do? I ought to have the lot of you hung for conduct unbecoming of the Emperor!" bellowed the sturdy commander as he towered in the doorway to the soldier's quarters.
"No, sir! We serve the Emperor!" shouted Tray and the rest of the recruits, as their voices rang in the empty, hallow walls of their confines. The band of recruits, dressed in nothing but dark gray military pants, stomped their right foots and shook the cold, hard surface of the metal floors. Their gaze unwavering on their commander, they slightly tilted their heads upright and unemotionally yelled into the stale air of the warship.
"May we conquer the Universe!"
Seemingly satisfied enough to move on, the commander entered the room and carried his stocky build forward with each movement of his powerful legs. The dark blue of his golden-trimmed uniform glowed almost menacingly against the dull metallic walls of the room as he approached Gorgeon, glaring insultingly at every other recruit as he passed by. Stoic gazes met the commander back, but despite the formal militaristic show, each recruit internally despised being aboard the warship. In no less than seven great strides, the commander reached the end of the room and stood face-to-face with the five-foot nine-inches Gorgeon.
"So, the new recruit can't keep up with the harsh conditions of serving the military, can he?" mocked the commander, as he mauled Tray with a lightening-fast blow of the fist to his stomach. Military training instantly kicked in as Tray continued to stand straight upright, hardly flinching from the blow as his dark brown eyes bore into the fuming commander before him. His eyes flickered over the commander's dress, taking in the clean-shaven look of his malicious facial features and bald, rounded head. The uniform seemed to glisten before Tray, the navy blue color and glinting gold trim piercing into his brain and activating his desire for leadership…
"Don't look at my uniform like you want my position, you worthless ass! You aren't home anymore, you're in the military now, boy. I expect that next time you're out of that bed of yours in three seconds, not four. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir!"
How is it possible to create such a dishonoring military? It was one second! thought Tray as he envisioned ripping the commander to shreds, trying to keep a straight face from the pain erupting in his gut. I can't believe I left home to serve for this worthless race.
"Good. Then I think it's safe to assume that all of you maggots are capable of getting in uniform without your mommy's help. Report to the bridge in five minutes, or have your heads ready to be hung in the Emperor's study."
With that command, the commander quickly turned on his heel and briskly walked out of the room, leaving the recruits to hurriedly dress themselves for duty. Their jet-black uniforms hung neatly on hooks attached to the plain metallic walls, the silver trim on each almost blending in perfectly against the wall. Spots of dark gray camouflage littered the items of clothing, providing an interesting touch to make each recruit's uniform stand out in some surroundings and hide in others. The Imperialist desire for black directly reflected the choice of color for recruit uniforms.
Tray snatched his uniform off its hook and threw it on, buttoning it neatly and smoothing the wrinkles that had accumulated on the rich black fabric. He reached for his badge within the breast pocket and took it out, placing it just above the pocket so the silver shine of the metallic piece could radiate its image of a winged planet, the insignia of the Imperial Solar System twinkling brilliantly along with the rest of the silver trim on Tray's uniform in the bright light piercing through the room. The recruit continued to reach for his military boots located underneath his bed, pulling the jet-black footwear from out of the depths of under the bed and grimacing slightly from the pain throbbing through his stomach. He laced the boots, rising to his feet once more as he ran a hand through his jet-black hair and ensured that his uniform was straight. Satisfied with his appearance, Tray strode from the soldier's quarters and made his way for the bridge, glancing at his fellow recruits as they continued to don their formal combat dress.
The halls of the warship were no more attractive than the soldier's quarters, as Tray walked alone through the empty confines of the black metallic walls making up the corridor running through the arrow-morph form of the warship. Almost everything about the warship was plain; the sleeping quarters, the armory, the hangar, the bridge, the halls. Tray couldn't stand the simplicity and effectiveness that the Imperialists believed in, as the same metallic walls continued to greet him along his seemingly never-ending journey to the bridge. The recruit passed several familiar rooms along the way, as the soldier's quarters were almost at the very back of the ship. He spotted the entrances to the armory, captain's quarters, mess hall, and medical bay as he traversed the hall's path, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the hallow emptiness that seemed to both plague and possess the warship.
At least they made it one story, he thought gratefully as he approached the entrance to the bridge at the very front of the ship, his footsteps quieting to reveal the low hum of the lights illuminating the halls he had just traversed.
Within a minute after departing the soldier's quarters, Tray had arrived at the doors to the bridge. He gazed at the black metallic surface, watching as it slid open to reveal the clumsy bridge of the warship. The bridge appeared quite generic to Tray, as he always thought of a bridge to consist of more than simply a hologram projector and a room big enough to hold an entire crew for a briefing. Indeed, the bridge revealed little more than black metallic walls in a slight D-shaped room, the massive projector jabbing its way into the bridge for the crew to participate in whatever briefing that may occur.
"We're no longer alone, Sire."
Tray instantly jumped to attention when he heard that comment, undoubtedly recognizing the fact that it was directed toward him. He entered the bridge, emotionless face staring right at the dark figure cloaked in the dim light of the hologram projector. The recruit knew the voice that had sounded: it was the Emperor's mentat, supernaturally calculating every thought that dared to process within the ruler's mind. Even though the mentat could not be seen, and Tray had never seen him, the knowledgeable booming voice did not betray the fact of his identity as a superhuman computer. Tray's ears picked up on the brief silence that ensued, before his commander turned to speak.
"You're early, Gorgeon. Did you not consider that the Emperor may not have wanted to speak with you and the recruits until the time I had established?"
Fumbling slightly for words and yet keeping an impassive look on his soft, rounded face, Tray was quickly hushed when the deep, grating voice of the Emperor sounded over the projector and into the air of the bridge.
"Do not worry of him, Commander Atreyu. I sense his potential as a recruit, and he has my permission to know of our doings."
Atreyu, though keeping a solid formal aura about him, was highly irritated that a new recruit could be allowed to overhear the militaristic plans of what may potentially be the most immoral massacre in the history of the Imperialists. As if to confirm the commander's thoughts, the mentat's voice rang through the air once more.
"Might I remind you, Sire, that there exists no way of exchanging information without making judgments?"
Making his own thoughts heard, Tray boldly stepped forward and addressed the Emperor, whose hidden eyes seemed to pierce straight through the depths of space, into the projector, and out into the mind of the recruit's head.
"I may dismiss myself if the Emperor wishes to continue his worthy briefing in solitude."
Commander Atreyu nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Gorgeon address the Emperor. Never before had he seen a new recruit so formally speak to the Emperor, let alone muster the courage to stand before the ruling figure of the entire Imperial Solar System. Though the mentat could not be seen, he too was clearly shocked at the recruit's daring move, eliciting a muffled gasp that rustled through the air.
More surprising than either of these two reactions was the Emperor's own.
"Your potential as a recruit is indeed admiral, Tray Gorgeon. Not for many years have I had the privilege to come across an individual such as yourself. Please, stay, and take my opportunity for you to experience how the internal workings of the race you defend are operated."
Tray inwardly smiled as the Emperor's harsh voice stopped, his obvious compliment making the recruit understand why he chose to enter the Imperial military. Keeping the traditional and formal look about him, Tray stomped his right foot, tilted his head, and shouted the Imperial salute to the System's Emperor.
"For the Emperor!"
Returning his attention to the briefing at hand, the Emperor addressed Atreyu.
"Now, then, I believe we were discussing the best method to eradicate the Manimals on the planet you've located. What are your thoughts on this matter?"
"I doubt there is a better weapon than the antimatter biomissiles you yourself have just engineered, Sire."
"Indeed, Commander. Have you enough stocked to be certain to massacre them all?"
"Yes, Sire. Four of them."
Ensuring his superhuman mind had not been forgotten, the mentat interjected his own thoughts into the decision, preventing any rash misjudgment from occurring within the corrupted philosophies of the two planners.
"To know what one ought to do is not enough, Sire."
"I'm aware of that, mentat. For now, I believe it is time to try our new weapon!" responded the Emperor as Atreyu smirked, about ready to cut the hologram transmission before the Emperor resumed speaking.
"Gorgeon, I would like for you to contact me when this invasion is accomplished, for I have some…ideas…that concern your career. Is that clear?"
No more surprised than Atreyu or the mentat at the Emperor's unpredictability, Tray forcefully responded to the ruler's request.
"Yes, Sire! For the Emperor!"
"Good. Commander Atreyu?"
"Attack will commence immediately, Sire. Atreyu, out!"
With that, the hologram projector flickered as the blurry, dark figures of the Emperor and the mentat disappeared, replacing their gloomy image with a valiant emblem of a terrestrial planet with great eagle-like wings jutting out from the glittering silver icon. The insignia of the Imperial Solar System shone throughout the bridge, illuminating it with a bright, almost proud light that could raise the spirits of any soldier. This positive aura surrounding Tray was instantly cut down when the commander suddenly barked at the recruit, nearly foaming at the mouth with rage.
"Who in the hell do you think you are?! Recruits are not allowed in briefings with the Emperor! If you hadn't suddenly became his little pet, I'd have your ass for dinner!"
Shaking with anger, Atreyu forced himself to calm down. I have an invasion to lead, he thought, glaring at the moderately muscular recruit. Resuming a collected state, the commander prepared himself for the mission ahead. He inwardly grinned, dreaming longingly for massacre…raw, uncontrolled massacre. Atreyu chuckled under his breath, anticipating the pure pleasure he would get from watching those despicable Manimals feel the painful wrath of his command. Oh yes, they would suffer…they would be piled into huge heaps of dead, burning bodies, the pleasant odor of scorched flesh entering his nostrils, and the gruesome spectacle pleasing his icy light gray eyes with horrific tangled bodies ripped apart by the limbs…
Tray sighed lightly, as his fellow recruits entered the bridge precisely on time. This is life as a proud recruit for the Emperor, he thought. It was time for him to fulfill his duty as a recruit to the Imperial Solar System, the only race with enough brutal evil coursing through its veins to ruthlessly challenge and take command of other systems by the handful. Tray Gorgeon would be helping them with one particular system, but little did he know that he would become involved in many more ways than one…