City Centre, Neavalis, Homeworld
26-02-4971-2, 15:39 - Meridian 5 time
"Set weapons to live settings," Goshenite half-shouted into her hand-wailing stone, and yet, her voice somehow still carried that same slow, bored apathy she lived life with.
Her broad figure - dressed in a pressed, white officer's suit now stained with soot from fires - stood stalwart and upright from the cupola of the command APC. Legs stood on the ladder within the turret, and a hand laid on the hatch as she steadied herself while the vehicle trundled ahead. Her vehicle, and two other armoured personnel carriers, were right in the middle of the troops as they advanced in synchrony down the boulevard.
From her vantage point, through binoculars in the other hand, she spied the mass of rioters ahead.
Most of the poor, damnable fools were Quartzes, perhaps with an Agate or so among them, picked out from the morass by their hairdos.
Almost all were of the older, bulkier soldier models, no longer fit for the modern doctrines of manoeuvre warfare. Stars, most of them even carried melee weapons for Diamonds' sake. Still, they tried a brave face, and calls of 'cowards!', 'traitors!' and a dozen other… less couth words roared out from the braying crowd.
She sighed, and with a low whisper this time, she spoke into the stone again, "Ready."
At an instant, her troops - hundreds of sleeker, smarter, newer Quartzes and Agates, all armed and armoured with latest gear - raised their light-rifles to their shoulders. The standardised metallic construction of the weapons gleamed with a menacing red that danced in the deep night, for they reflected the light of a dozen riot fires.
Still, not a single step was missed, and the disciplined formation marched onwards.
"Aim," She said, loud enough to be heard by the rioters' front ranks, what with how close the two masses were now to eachother.
Goshenite grit her teeth. At her word, a wave of wide-eyed fear drowned out the fronts' bravado, and their grips on their swords and axes and flails and such wavered. Pitiful enough was the sight that, behind her binoculars, a moment of mercy flashed across her eyes.
She tried to hold back against it though. As a Beryl-Militant, one-third of a million years worth of crueller orders issued should have made her numb to it all.
But even as her mouth parted open, wind was breathed in, for a split second, the fated word refused to come out.
'These were loyal soldiers,' Her conscience pricked her, 'do you really want to go ahead and just cut them down?'
For another split second, her mouth hung open again. She was unused to having to deal with these ideas, these feelings.
Yet, 'these Quartzes would have been recycled anyways,' she tried to rationalise it all, 'with or without the leaks.'
The new gem production methods not only took less quantity of resources, but made better quality gems. The quality improvement was not by much, not enough that all castes were subject to the recycling plans, but it was noticeable. Among the soldier castes though, the nature of their job meant that the difference was genuinely large enough that measures like these were signed off on.
Aristocrats would be spared for their rarity and experience of course, but the masses were but fodder, and were treated as such.
'Is that all this is then? Are we to forget the service of the old, for the shininess of the new?'
'It would be more efficient if they should hand themselves over in peace,' and 'their sacrifice would not be in vain,' and all that trifle was how the Empire justified these acts after the leaks. Technically all true, but a callous bit of political calculus all the same in her opinion.
Just as sympathy was about to take hold though, her mind scolded her. Had the leaks not happened, it reminded her once more, they still would have been recycled anyways. The only difference then was that Imperial Authorities would not have needed to justify it, for it would have been done slowly, quietly and away from anyone's eyes - hers included.
The leaks merely stoked anger and fear enough that the recycling plan's would-be victims went out to fight against it. From there, they stopped being someone else's problem… and became hers instead.
At that thought, Goshenite's lips pursed.
'Well,' The cold, selfish part of herself that she always listened to spoke up, 'If it is now your problem, then best to solve it before you join them as a pile of shards. Being accused of disobedience tends to do that.'
Goshenite sighed again, now with cool certainty. Her nickname to the few who knew her was always the 'Old General,' and she did not survive Imperial politics that long by not following orders.
And her orders right now were to break up the riots, and by any means necessary
"Fire!"
Heavy footfalls from hard boots echoed out as the troops advanced on the rioters, and the night was lit up by the beams from hundreds of weapons. Every whispered whine from a light-rifle shot was followed by screams from those cut down. Soon, that was joined by the screams of panicked rioters as they fled, and that too was joined by the screams of those trampled underfoot by the ones who chose to run.
Flanked on either side by abandoned, riot-damaged buildings however, there was nowhere for them to flee to.
It was a massacre. As though gun turrets, after each person was annihilated in a volley of kaleidoscopic fire, the new Quartzes' torsos and arms moved with mechanical, gyroscopic motions to aim for the gemstone of another victim.
Stood calm and still from the APC's cupola, Goshenite watched on as the cold, crystalline armoured heads of her troops swung from side to side to aim and shoot at each rioter that tried to fight or flee.
A yellow Citrine, one with their stone on their left shoulder, watched with tears and a voiceless cry as another Citrine, one with their stone on their right shoulder, was cut down by half-a-dozen beams of light.
Turning to face the faceless army before them, the Citrine summoned a battle axe, and with wild-eyed fury, made an incoherent bellow of a war cry. But before even their first footstep landed, they were incinerated by the lockstep legion.
Goshenite looked around again. An Agate, barely cognizant after being crushed in the stampede, sat up and made a panicked plea. The fallen aristocrat offered bribes, favours, anything to the soldiers, but she too was torn to dust by the same ones that she tried to beg mercy from.
Within minutes, the once dense crowd was thinned, and massed fire was less and less effective as its targets disappeared into the urban jungle.
"Orders, General?" A voice, still with the signature grit of the old model Agates, but definitely more refined, came from her hand-wailing stone.
Goshenite set it to broadcast to all and brought the stone close, "Keep a dozen squads guarding the APCs. Let the rest split up into squads and search the area. Remember your urban warfare training."
"Copy."
At that very moment, save for exactly the amount she ordered, the lockstep legion split up into small squads of seven. Streams spilled out into the streets and alleys between buildings, hundreds ran out at once, and yet, they all flowed seamlessly in and around eachother to accomplish their objectives.
Goshenite nodded, and she appreciated the curt professionalism. Even after having worked with the more senior among the old model Agates, their prickly pride was always a sore point for her. One would think they would have learnt eventually, but apparently not.
Goshenite knew no warfare was close to kind, but the old style of melee warfare forgave far more than even the little so far demonstrated by modern doctrines. There, the heroic, hot-headed types often rose far higher than they had any right to. It led to too much pious bleating of 'honour' and 'chivalry' in her opinion.
Things like these, she saw, also had many old Agates forget their real purpose. Too often, they got lost in illogical and pedantic posturing competitions among eachother, even in real battles at times.
In that, a small, relieved smile appeared on her. Dealing with egos and pride always sapped on what little energy she had. But as she looked on at the shards scattered on the street that glimmered in the night, she understood she would not have to deal with such inconveniences anymore.
She, and every other commander, would have stalwart troops now. With discipline instead of heroism, and full of initiative, not vanity.
But just as the possibilities and theories started to dart around in her mind, Goshenite was taken back to the real world. A notification beep came from her hand-wailing stone.
She turned on its holoscreen function, and there noticed a missive; one marked important at that. Immediately then, she read its contents.
'Dear Old Friend,
My sources have deduced that the location of one of the leakers is nearby to you. See to the matter as soon as convenient, but call me back as soon as you intend to.
Senior operatives are already tied up rounding the others, but junior operatives have been moved to support you on this one. They await my order, which pends your call, so as to not spook our objective too soon.
Please be swift however, we suspect they may be preparing to flee.
Details are attached in the file below.
Signed, yours truly.'
Goshenite's eyebrows rose a little at that, 'It's not even been three days,' she remembered when the leaks first cropped up on the EmpCom, 'that sentient security camera works quickly, eh?'
Seconds after, Goshenite had plans formulated already. As she flicked away from the message, she saw that the live action reports on the riots were mostly favourable to her side. Little real resistance had been encountered, and it seemed her presence was no longer entirely necessary.
She climbed back into the metal confines of the APC and tapped the driver, a Grossular Garnet-Militant, on the shoulder.
"General?" They asked and turned to her.
"Lieutenant. The situation has developed, I have been made aware of a high priority target in the vicinity," She paused and messed with the hand-wailing stone again, "Have my authorization codes. You will be left in command until I return."
"Yes yr'clary, understood," They nodded before they sent out orders from the command APC's communications.
Goshenite nodded in return before she climbed out of the APC and landed on the ground with a soft thud. Beyond the fires that crackled on, it was quiet now, at least nearby. Through streets and alleys, the winds carried the crunches of boots, the whines of distant laser fire and people's last desperate cries, but they were faint.
"You, Sergeant of Third Squad," Goshenite said as she tapped on the holoscreen of her hand wailing stone, "Have yours form up with me. We have a high priority target in the vicinity. The details have been forwarded to you."
"Yes General," The Agate said and saluted, "You have your orders!" She then barked out to the Quartzes in her command.
In an instant, the Agate and the six Quartzes under her snapped outwards in synchrony and split from the formation around the APCs. From there, without a single word, troops from the other eleven squads flowed in to fill up the gap left behind.
Satisfied, Goshenite gestured for Third Squad to follow her. The choice seemed random, but this Agate's squad was the one that seemed to score best in the war games and training simulations out of everyone else around. So, Goshenite figured they might as well be the ones to come with her.
"The Mayor's building?" Goshenite heard one of the Quartzes mutter out, almost a little lost.
Goshenite stopped herself from nodding, as much as she agreed at their confusion. Mayor Garnet-8NO had been a competent leader for Neavalis, and Goshenite could be sure her opinion was backed by observations. With this city - usually - being the closest thing to a quiet suburb on the veritable ecumenopolis, this same city was her chosen residence whenever she came to Homeworld.
Normally, that meant she would have barely known the Mayor's name-designation, what with how little time she spent on Homeworld, for she despised the life of schemes and treachery here. But with the rapid pace of change as of late, Goshenite had spent more and more time on Homeworld, and so in Neavalis, to deal with frequent briefings and summits and such.
With Mayor 8NO then, she had much more to go off, but of that, none pointed negatively at them. 8NO was competent enough in both ways that mattered. She governed well, and balanced treating the lower castes as the law says while she toadied to those above her just enough to keep power.
Sure, there were rumours of them being a little, well, erratic in recent gossip. But just like Goshenite's opinion on them, their official record was otherwise clean also.
There was nothing on them that presented a motive for something of this magnitude, of being a perpetrator of the leaks. Nothing.
Theories upon theories flitted in her mind, but without any concrete evidence or facts to base them on, Goshenite set it to one side for now.
Her thoughts returned to the current trudge across town towards their target. Having lived here often, she knew the routes well, like the circuits in her own gem.
Here, a building with easily accessible doors on its front and back. There, a thin alley left between two skyscrapers meant to allow easy maintenance access to the power veins that ran below. Down this street, a lesser used overpass that led to that part of the city.
Goshenite navigated all the shortcuts as she led the seven troops behind her onwards. That was perhaps the only part of this that excited her, if only a little; being able to finally show off to someone else all the little tricks and routes she knew in Neavalis.
The rest of the debacle wearied her patience even more in truth, and yet, 'I have my orders.'
City Hall, Neavalis, Homeworld
26-02-4971-2, 16:11 - Meridian 5 time
"Stars, stars, stars!" Garnet-8NO panted, desperation scrawled on her expression as she navigated the halls of the mayoral building.
The heavy footfalls behind her grew louder, faster. She knew from the sound of it that her pursuers could not be more than a few corridors behind.
Garnet's mind raced, or more like, fumbled, over desperate options as she ran, 'Prove myself useful? That's always a good trick, if I can just prove myself, yes…'
Hope thundered through her gemstone's circuits. Of course, beyond just governing well - better than her last three predecessors even, as the record showed - she had kept her position by being useful to higher aristocrats whenever they needed a favour or two. It had always worked.
Deals behind closed doors, small, and hidden from view. That was how she, no, everyone, in any position of power, juggled those who threatened to replace them with a more lenient successor, all the while keeping these things from being stained on their records.
At the memory though, Garnet soured. She had thought those dealings were all private, safe. But with the blackmail, and now the thunder of boots behind her, apparently not.
She snarled at that, 'That- that piece of schist, they're the ones who wanted this! They're the real one behind these riots,' and tears almost welled up as the boots behind her grew louder, 'Not me! Not me!'
A final turn was taken. Down the corridor was her office, the finish line, and impossibly, she picked up her already frantic pace even further. After she blurred past the entrance, she did not even take the time to close the door behind her, but instead went instantly to her desktop holoscreen to switch it on.
'It wasn't me,' She stared on, and she agonised at every precious microsecond that slipped away as it loaded, 'but if I can prove it- yes, I could take part in the investigation, take down someone obviously more dangerous, and show I was loyal the whole time!'
A half-mad grin had crossed her face by now, and as the screen booted up, jittery fingers crashed onto the textboard. Yet, just as swift as her fingers moved, that grin was wiped off of her face when it gave no result. However, she noticed a typo in the search bar, and bare hope flared up again as she corrected it. But again, as she pressed the enter glyph, it bore nothing.
All the evidence that could have saved her life, gone.
Garnet raged at the machine, held back as she almost pummelled it.
'I- wha-' She stood there and processed what happened, only to slam her face into her palms as she realised desperation blinded her to the most obvious, "I SHOULD'VE KNOWN! The stars-damned coward deleted it all!" She roared into the ceiling.
But just as her frustrations mounted, the lights flickered and the doors slammed shut, and dread smothered anger as it stole its place.
Startled, Garnet swivelled around in a dazed search. She sallied out, banged on the door, even dug her nails in the thin line between the metal slabs that made it up, but she was trapped. Despaired, she slid down, back against the cold surface and wallowed in misery. Her eyes drifted down to the ground, and a defeated shudder escaped her lips.
Just then, a muffled cry of, "Set to breaching!" Interrupted her session of self-pity.
In seconds, the cold metal grew warm, then hot, then seared her enough that she hissed and pulled back. The sight that greeted her as she turned to the door sparked an electrifying chill that pulsed through her circuits. Light pierced into the unlit room, and a thin line of molten red began to etch a malignant glow around the door.
A hoarse, dry, "No!" Came from her as she scrambled backwards even further, only to be laid flat by the slab of metal that flew out as the door was kicked away.
She heaved and shoved the slab, molten at its edges, away from her. Garnet breathed, but the reprieve was short. Seven figures entered the room, their faces obscured by crystalline visors from riot helmets, and their bodies protected by a light, fastened-on armour mainly made of ablative, heat proof plates of a white, ceramic-like material.
Very visible on their forms too were the sleek construction of light-rifles, held tight by hands in tough army gloves.
As though an automatic door themselves, the troops parted in synchrony. In strode a daunting figure; their presence heavy, tired, in a way that somehow muted the already darkened room.
'Their commander,' Garnet realised.
Tall, seven and a half feet from her measure, and donned in a once-white officer's suit that was blackened by soot. Large, but not brutish. Well-built, but not at all hench. They stood there, postured with a squared form flanked by epaulettes and shoulder-length, silver hair.
Through the dark came a face, obviously once refined, if just short of regal, yet now wrinkled with aeons spent seemingly at naught but frowning. The face craned down at her and revealed slate-grey eyes, surrounded by dark circles, which bore down on her with bored indifference.
Another realisation struck then. This was no mere Agate. This was a Goshenite, and a Beryl-Militant at that.
A Beryl, sent after her, a mere Garnet-Civilian.
She resisted the urge to laugh at the hopelessness of it all. The fact that someone so far above her in the caste system was sent to arrest her told Garnet instantly that this was indeed a lost cause from the start. Someone must have really wanted her gone.
Yet, the innate self-preservation in all living beings meant she still tried at one more attempt to save her shards, even if it was a wimpy one.
"It wasn't me-" She stilted at how utterly typical those words sounded, "Ah- not only me! Th- there was someone else! I could show you if-"
Bang!
Garnet closed her eyes and jerked back before she froze, her hand clutched on the gemstone beneath her right eye. After an eternity, when her senses told her she was still alive, she stirred again. She dropped all the lofty things she hoped for. Now, she just hoped she would be treated with dignity, and not be met with enraged barks that called her 'liar' or 'traitor' like she had seen with so many others.
'But I am no liar!' Part of herself still snivelled out, 'If I could just recover those deleted missives, all those reams of blackmail. They'll see, they'll see…'
That part died soon too though. It was a forlorn hope, she knew, for she was no Peridot. Even then, the missives that contained the blackmail were sent by someone anonymous, and she had still done the traitorous deed. The long arm of the authorities would come for her no matter what else now.
Hyperventilation gave way to an eerie, serene calm, and she opened her eyes. As she did, the Goshenite gave her naught more than a withered stare. Pistol in hand, its barrel still aglow with a light within, she saw they had aimed well above her head the whole time. It had been a warning shot then.
With that in mind, as Garnet again stared into those bored, slate-grey eyes, she now knew what sort of foe faced her.
Apathy like theirs was even worse than if they had shown signs of fury, as that sort of emotion might have meant that they actually cared.
They were not the passionate kind then, the kind that would take her away, as if a trophy, to a rigged trial where she would at least have had a podium to warn everyone of what happened. No, they were of the unconcerned kind, willing to end it here and now, or throw her into a dungeon to be someone else's issue if it meant getting some rest after their job was done.
Logic and emotion both meant nothing to ones like them, only their own selfish comfort. She knew the sort well enough from a few choice colleagues.
Garnet seethed on the outside then, as she knew that for someone like them, little could provoke them any more anyhow. They were always provoked somehow anyways, no matter how they hid it. People like that were always unsociable and easily provoked by every inconvenience in their way, or as Garnet and most others preferred to call them, people.
"I can believe that," The Goshenite said, low and serious as they lowered their pistol.
Garnet was momentarily flashbanged, 'What?'
That was not the response she at all expected. Stars, there was not even that trace of sarcasm, like she had expected from the kind of person they were.
"Damned plotters everywhere, and they still call this planet 'jewel of the galaxy'," The Goshenite shook their head as they muttered almost to themselves, but then made a shallow intake of breath and steeled their gaze back at her, "true or not though, you were still the one who leaked the files, no?"
'Ah, there it is,' Garnet could all but taste the casual mockery that dripped off that sentence.
"I suppose so," She admitted, defeated, but then she appealed to that tired apathy, "I'll come quietly."
The words still hurt to say, but as a consolation, it seemed she had guessed the Goshenite's mind right.
Relief shimmered out of their eyes, and they spoke with a little less snark now, "Sergeant, have your troops escort the prisoner."
From there, the Agate produced manacles out of a satchel at their side. Garnet was manacled at the ankles, then two Quartzes then came and forced her arms behind her back, and the Agate manacled her wrists too. At their Beryl's order, the squad of soldiers led her away. Those same two Quartzes wrapped their arms around hers now, and the group formed a circle around her as they marched out.
Chains clanked and boots clacked all the way to the warp pad, but otherwise, there was silence.
No words were exchanged. Even the raucous riots outside seemed to have died down, and quite literally.
Through the occasional window, she spied the multicolor sparkles of countless shards scattered across the streets. She shook her head, ashamed. These were the lives of 'So many…' and now, they were left as mere glorified litter that glimmered in the starlight.
Even then, she knew this was but a fraction of a fraction. Garnet could only guess how many more shards were behind the smoke and fire that billowed outside, how many more were strewn across the city, the planet…
The galaxy.
She bit down on a whimper then. Her spotless record was a point of pride to her. Was. But was it really worth so much, when faced with so many lives? Had she known what it would all lead to, would she have faced the blackmail head on instead of having cowered to its sender's demands?
But as the group turned the corner and the warp pad came into view, Garnet could only sigh, 'Useless questions really. What is done is done. I will be judged soon enough.'
In an instant, the signal for the end had come. The clacks on hard diacrete gave over to a haunting melody of chimes as boots fell on the crystalline construction of the warp pad.
One more chime, and the ghostly blue of the warp stream took them all away.
A/N:
Marks:
"Regular Talk"
"Psychic/Device Talk"
'Internal Thoughts/Reading of text'
Sounds
Imperial time system:
00-00-0000-0, 00:00 - Meridian 1, Planet Name
(Day 01-50)-(Month 1-10)-(Year)-(Era), (Hour 01-19)*:(Minute 01-50) - (Meridian (1-10), (Planet Name) time
*Like with digital clocks, where 00:00 is the 24th hour, but 24:00 is never actually displayed on the clock, 00:00 is the same as hour 20, but 20:00 is also never displayed.
So, the highest the Gem Empire time system goes before ticking to the new day is 19:49, just like 23:59 back here on Earth.
**Meridian is the same as time zones. But instead of, say for example, Eastern time or Pacific time, each time zone on a planet or moon is just named with numbers.