Aristocrat's Quarter, Thalassapole, Homeworld
17-10-4979-2, 9:40 - Meridian 1 time
"...and with that, your radiance," Sector Governor Aquamarine bootlicked in that damned, grating, saccharine-sweet voice of theirs, "I hope you are assured that every last measure has been taken to ensure nothing untoward will happen in today's events."
Grand Admiral Aquamarine nodded slowly. Anything faster would have made the ache worse, "I see, thank you for your thorough efforts, governor."
"My sincerest pleasure, your radiance," They replied before they logged off the call.
For a long second, Aquamarine stared at the holoscreen projector perched on the ornate table in her lavish apartment.
Her hand shot up to the gemstone on her clavicle, her eyes snapped shut, and she hissed as she stumbled two steps back.
"-Ack!" She harked out as a set of cluster aches assaulted her processors, 'Urghhh… why do I ever bother calling them?'
For once though, that question was rhetorical. On this day of celebration, it was not just the Governor's prior presence that ailed her. With the '26-02 Incident' - and the wave of riots and terror attacks it sparked - not even a decade past yet, there was every reason to be vigilant.
Security was tighter than a noose then, and still, Aquamarine fretted. As the ache cleared a little, she could not help as she paced around and around the table to try, in vain, to walk away from the dread.
There was no need for it, the sensible part of her said. Braggart as they were, Governor Aquamarine had taken the job of security in stride.
Yet, her own pace only grew in speed.
She tried for something more physical, more tangible, to allay her fears. Her eyes raised up from the velvet carpet, and outside the balcony, beyond the glass door, was just that. After each lap around the table, she caught many a glimpse of it, or rather, them.
There, she found at least five who could be All-Empire Extraordinary Commission agents.
These select few surveilled the area from other balconies, and she even recognised three of them individually. Just the building opposite, Sapphire-2SP with her sun dress laid casual, and they pretended to make absentminded chatter with Blue Pearl-8LI. Meanwhile, Spessartine Garnet-5KV stood three buildings beside that pair, and with a suspiciously gun barrel-shaped lump barely poking through the back of their shawl.
All-star senior operatives were present then, and still, Aquamarine paced.
The upcoming parade was almost entirely her own idea. Should something go awry, her shards would clatter, she knew; if not from a legal trial, then as her opponents pounced and tore her down rank by rank till she could not defend herself.
Beyond that eternal worry however, the parade itself was meant to drum up support for the upcoming war. The mobilisation would not be called off of course, but the already slippery support among the other half of the upper castes would slip even further should the slightest misstep be taken.
It was natural to worry, no matter how little of a chance had been taken.
In the search for fresh air, she ceased her pacing and threw open the decorated window-doors and perched on the balcony outside. Her hand nursed her chin as she surveyed the city outside.
Midday sun kissed the wide boulevard below, and a light breeze wafted the patterned curtains behind while it fluttered her own azure cape and sky blue toga. As a sandal clad foot tapped on the balcony, she gazed on as the far-off horizon of congested skyscrapers towered beyond. But her sight soon shifted away from there and back to here, where the powerful resided, where the surroundings could afford to be low and roomy.
Flawlessly cleaned was the boulevard below, and on its flanks rose edifices that had inside and outside alike sculpted in traditional styles, and by the most trained artisans. Baroque columns and unique, frescoed walls held up pedimented roofs, all the while the centre of the road gave way to a stretch of marble pavement upon which stood statues, fountains, shrines and more asides projected power as clear as day to even a half-blind spectator.
Do you feel uncomfortable, do you feel small, surrounded by it all? Then you do not belong. Simple as.
'As it should be,' Aquamarine thought as she soaked in the magnificence. Her aches cleared and senses returned.
Despite what it might strike into lower beings, the magnitude of the locale reprieved Aquamarine as she breathed. Combined with the security detail, any would-be attacker could be shot a dozen times from a dozen angles before they even made it near.
'Even then,' A soft chuckle left her lips, 'no grimy, bitter rebel Quartz could fool anyone that they were allowed inside. They would be chased off miles away from here.'
Exclusive as the small crowd let in here was though, on most days, Thalassapole's Aristocrat Quarter would still be abuzz with life and culture. But this day, beyond the swarm of Pearls, not a soul stirred. Even then, the servant-caste gems soon scurried away too as they finished final checks on the cleanliness of the route.
Five minutes until the parade was to begin, her internal clock said.
And at last, punctual as always, they arrived.
Behind her, the gilded antique door - of real, organic hardwood from aeons past when Homeworld was a living world - swung open. Footsteps were muffled by the plush carpet, but trained senses meant she counted their approach by exact seconds.
They perched beside her, golden skin and burnished bronze hair that met the midday. Their own crimson cloak fluttered beside her azure one. On their shoulder sat affixed a brass pauldron that shone in the light; a contrasting match to the copper blue of the tall and plumed masked helmet that balanced on her own head.
The two stood up from their perches and locked eyes then. A gaze of sunkissed yellow met ocean cyan.
"High Marshal."
"Grand Admiral."
The pair put hands on eachother's opposite shoulder. In graceful and practised motions, they brought themselves together for a curt, mutual kiss on one cheek and then the other - as was the custom.
"I hope your travels treated you well," She said as she pulled back, and she craned her neck up at the same time.
Aquamarine herself was no more than five-seven tall, and Hessonite stood a full foot taller than she did.
"They did, there was no trouble, not in a place as fine as this," They replied easily.
There was still that quality of a drill sergeant's authority to their voice, a hint of their lower origins, Aquamarine knew. However, it had since been, mostly, replaced by the calm and confidence of true nobility.
Otherwise though, she nodded in return. So far, it kept to the typical greetings from that unspoken script of small talk all aristocrats knew.
The ring of bugles announced the start, and the pair turned their attention outwards.
From around the block's far corner, a veritable army marched out in solid ranks. Lines upon lines of white, blue, yellow, and even a solitary pink line, strode out in full gear and with rifles held across their chests in a perfect 45-degree angle. Blank faces all turned in the same exact direction, and gave the spectators on the balconies a solid stare.
Platoons of lithe hover tanks rode in front of the grounded, yet still menacing main battle tanks. Their combat paint had been removed for the occasion, and instead, the spit-shined, impeccable metal almost blinded those who watched. Still, the vehicles' commanders perched out of the hatches undaunted, and stoic faces met the crowds as their arms froze in a totally angular diamond salute.
At last, the army band outside began the intro of their composition; a heavy, but proud piece. Rapid, rhythmic drum beats were met by the trumpets as they raised in volume.
Joined by it were the troops themselves. Against the diacrete-paved boulevard, successive volleys of footfalls cracked louder and louder than each before until they united in a quake that reverberated the very buildings. Such was choreographed into the spectacle of might.
She turned to her one equal, a sly grin plastered on her features, "Glorious, is it not?"
They shook their head, just a little, "A glorious waste of resources."
"What has you so?" She asked, lost. Yet, it was all part of her ploy to convince such vital support to her side.
"We both know how expensive the modernisations already are," they started, "and necessary as they have been, why spend even more on unneeded expansion also?"
"Unneeded?" She snuck in a little offence into that word, "Our worlds are bereft of life. We need fresh conquests if the Empire is to even merely sustain its present glory," She paused, then found a fantastic point, "and as you say, military modernisation was necessary. Why not put the resources invested into it to use? Let it prove its worth, and, more than that, earn its keep."
Outside, the military band finished the intro and the first verse began. Praise was sung for the Imperial military's present glory, and for the inevitable glories to come. The drums slowed to deep rumbles, the boots crashed harder, and the trumpets rang out in victory.
At the signal, a triangular formation of ground attack jetcraft screamed past as they streamed white, yellow and blue powder behind themselves. Swift as they were, the glut of weapons mounted on their otherwise aerodynamic frames was spotted easily.
"You Stratokratores are blinded," Hessonite simply shook their head at the sight, unimpressed, "what has military adventurism actually gained our Empire? Do you not remember how much was spent to eliminate the Hedrons, the Esofi, or the Isshum? And for what, mere mining rights on already mined-out territory?"
"Silicon-based life, evolved to live on gas giants, and literal living clouds of radiation," Aquamarine shot down all three examples, "it was only unprofitable because their worlds were unusable for gem production. Besides, in the long term, the extermination of those warmongers has probably saved us more than we know."
"You know," they said slowly, "even if those worlds had the right biochemistry, I've done the numbers. Triple checking each scenario, I've looked over these events with different models used and different assumptions made for each one."
She raised a brow at that, but with how long she had known her colleague, it was of exasperation, not surprise. There was a reason why Hessonite's moniker had long been 'The Clerk General'. Though she knew the value of reevaluation, and she knew Hessonite to be honest and thorough, if she was honest to herself, that all sounded thoroughly dull.
Still, they barreled on, "Only in the most generous scenarios, assuming near-perfect campaigning, near-perfect environments on conquered worlds, perfect conduct among workers and," they almost chuffed here, "low to minimal corruption among leaders, did the Empire barely scrape more than it spent. That too, was only after forty to forty-five… thousand years from initial colonisation."
A good strike to open with, if one were to duel an amateur, she admitted. So within seconds, her parry was ready.
"Those are ancient conflicts," she pointed out, "when did you last do those calculations?"
"The point still stands," they replied, if a bit miffed.
The bands' piece slowed to a righteous, but melancholic, anger as the song reached its first chorus. Focus was shifted from the future to the past. Praise was sung to the victorious dead upon whose valour the Empire was raised in the first place, and damnation was spat at the foes who lowered those brave warriors into their graves.
If anything though, to Aquamarine, it sounded as if it mourned the waste of Hessonite's otherwise erudite argument.
For at that instant, she sprung her own logic trap, "Modernisation has done wonders as of late, as anyone can see. With enlarged armed forces that have up-to-date tactics and weapons, and industries and supply lines to fuel them, my own calculations tell me the worlds we seek will turn a profit within five millennia," She tried to appeal to their thoroughness, "And that is even with the Diluvia Scenario factored in, which assumes high enemy partisan numbers and success, along with overstretched supplies, mind you."
If nothing else, if she positioned her own cause as a strong one, then perhaps they might be convinced.
Yet, they scoffed still. Though it was a weak protest, and she could tell. So she pressed her advantage, "I have my workings here now, if that's the proof you need," though left unsaid was the 'you stubborn schist,' at the end.
She knew Hessonite would have had some sort of point like that ready. In battle, Hessonite had enough tricks to keep her foes guessing for a little while, but as a person, they were awfully predictable.
So Aquamarine watched in delight as they crunched through her numbers. Their expressions shifted from sceptic, to calculations, and finally, to a flash of resignation. While that last part lasted no more than a blink before their stoicism buried it, she easily caught a glimpse.
At that, the chorus of anger and melancholy left the stage. Bombastic chants to future Imperial glory stole the limelight once more, for the second verse had begun.
Internally, she chuckled. It was too easy, 'Even someone with half their circuits blown out could write an accurate script for most of what they would do on any given day.'
Despite her assumptions though, they did not seem beat quite yet.
As their holoscreen fizzled out, she saw there glimmered something awful in those eyes, "The theory is sound, but this reeks of short-minded thinking."
"Short-minded? The vassal states we will carve from the Koravets will secure the Empire's future for hundreds of millennia to come!"
She said the last part a little louder than she meant, but she felt it was warranted. The statement confused her thoroughly, 'what could they mean by that?'
"You are far older than I," A tad forward, though she knew they meant no insult by it, "so you must remember why the other Diamonds were made in the first place?"
An odd change of topic, but she was curious now.
"Not offhand," She admitted, "the politics of those days, I assume?"
They only shook their head though, "I've studied the histories - it seemed pertinent as of late. In the second age of expansion, when faster than light travel came to be, gemkind found itself spreading across our arm of the galaxy and reconnecting with old lost colonies founded by sleeper ships…"
So far, to her, it seemed barely relevant, 'an interesting tale, but where does it lead?' Yet, she also knew Hessonite to not be one of flighty fancy, so she listened on, still curious.
They breathed, and then went on, "...but with the essence of only one Diamond, the old method was even more awfully inefficient at producing gems. But still, we needed people to secure these new frontiers," a wistful look glossed over their eyes then, "and so Yellow Diamond was born, and her court were to be the guardians of our new domains. Still, even her essence was not enough eventually, for as we grew and grew, the tallies of resources that our Empire needed grew too."
Almost dismissive, she replied swiftly, "So? We invented warp pads. Technology and modernisation once more helped us consolidate old territory and conquer anew."
"But do you remember what other significant event happened just after its invention?"
Aquamarine slowed, and that nagging knot of suspicion tightened, "Blue Diamond was born."
"Then came the third age of expansion, but soon, this next source of essence was again not enough fuel for our ever-growing Empire," They paused, "Then, when the fourth age began, and we tried to conquer another galaxy?"
Her tone ground to an irritated crawl. She had been trapped, "Pink Diamond."
"Precisely!" They called out as they flagged a finger in her face, and their crimson cape swung from the sudden motion, "We can keep grasping for more, and we can try to pile on just enough reforms and new technology to keep it slogging along, but it will not sate us forever. History has told us so, that we must learn to make do with what we have."
"Must I repeat myself? What we have is useless, what will you have us do with dead rock?" She said, the irritated tone obvious now, "There is nothing shortsighted about these conquests at least. The new method is green and sustainable; ad infinitum if done right. But first, we need new and verdant worlds. It is unnegotiable."
But Hessonite only made a rumbled sigh as they rubbed her forehead, "That is exactly what I was warning against, think before you speak!" They swung their head to the sky before they levelled a gaze at her, "Do I have to spell it for you? The new methods will let us make more citizens than ever before, true, so we will need to build more infrastructure than ever before, which all needs more resources than ever before, which means we need more colonies than ever before. The cycle never ends. You want to talk of sustainability? Think on this first."
It was Aquamarine's turn to shut up, but only briefly. They were supposed to be a foe as unsurprising as the sunrise the next day, and she seethed at the sudden cunning.
At the verbal spar's turn, the band's piece swung back again. They returned to the slow and heavy, the mournful and fiery, pace with the second chorus.
Her mouth hung open for no more than a blink before she shut it. She could not afford to show weakness, even if what Hessonite brought up was true. Very true.
As she seethed, Aquamarine scrambled for a counter argument, but none came.
She never took kindly to failure, be it others' or her own. A part of her tried to pull her back, to tell her that losing composure would only scuttle it all, but it was too late.
So veiled insults it was, "Complaints and no solutions," she huffed and flung an accusatory open palm at them, "what do you Plutokratores want to do about the crisis then? Go about, galavanting around, redirecting resources that the Empire does not even have?"
"Efficiency is key of course," they brought their face closer to hers, and raised their voice in a way that meant 'shut up' as much as anything else, "Earlier, you talked of modernisations, so you should understand this, no? It does not only apply to the military's gear, you know. The new methods are the first of many, so how many more new processes and refinements exist that we have yet to find?"
"What new refinements?" She blurted out, then immediately kicked herself for it.
A flimsy strike, and so they just waved her off, "Already, the centralisation of Imperial industry, away from individual colonial governors, and into the 'Amalgams' has proven bountiful. It is more living proof that we do not need new resources to solve this crisis, we will simply use our minds to find ways to do more with less."
"We?" She laughed, "Ambitious choice of words."
Showing her own side's strengths had failed, she decided, so exposing the other's weaknesses was next.
Hessonite looked uncomprehending for a moment, but then they spun around and gazed out the balcony, "I do not know what you insinuate."
"There is no 'we' among the Plutokratores," Aquamarine shot them right between the eyes, "just as there is no 'we' among the Stratokratores," then shot herself in the foot and made sure Hessonite could not use that ammo against her.
"The Empire's traditional and rightful authority are the Diamonds," They said, tone flat, "the more… enthusiastic reformists ought to remember that they serve ones higher than themselves."
She resisted the urge to heckle there. Whenever they spoke like that, like they read from a document, she knew she had them cornered.
"I'd say some of the voices among yours are more than just 'enthusiastic,'" She chuckled.
"The Maximists are the sole legitimate representatives of Plutokrator belief," They replied, still overly-formal and flat, "dangerous radicals with illegal ideas make up the rest, and are too small to be of note anyways."
She smiled, openly now. If they could just be convinced of the cracks in their own cause, perhaps they could be made to cut their losses, to give up this folly and throw their support over to where it would be useful.
And right now, they had presented her with this golden opportunity, "Sole? How 'sole' are the Maximists really?" She said and launched another prod, "I wonder, which direction do you stand in? Vertical or Horizontal?"
They looked like they were actually about to reply, but she cut them off, "Rhetorical question. I already know you would only ever stand with the Vertical-Maximists."
The second chorus finished, and the bridge to the outro had begun. The aura the band gave off showed it was a variation of the grandiose verse, and she felt reinvigorated by the triumph woven in every note.
As it did, her own addition to the parade roared past. An assault spacecraft carrier, flanked on either side by its fighter-bomber escorts, all streamed colourful powders of yellow, blue, white behind them as they flew overhead.
The behemoth flew low and within atmosphere, just a few hundred metres above the tops of buildings to truly wow any onlookers. Indeed, even the agents of The Commission stood slackjawed for a split second before they remembered their duty.
While the flight was in the area though, Aquamarine relished in Hessonite's badly hidden feigned ignorance of its majesty, 'surely they must be close now.'
There though, Hessonite gave up any pretence of politeness. They let out an almost flatulent, "Pfft," through pursed lips before they turned back to her with a sneer disguised as a smirk, "come off it, seven-ten. What do you have to gain from antagonising me?"
'Huh?' She was lost at first, but then Aquamarine's fist clenched, 'She really dares?'
She turned away, and a glowered side eye was sent their way, "You know I've always hated being called that."
"Well, while you can hate it, you cannot hide from the truth," They accused, "Seven plots out of every ten for the 'good of the Empire', and the other three?"
"This one is for the good of the Empire," She said, insistent, "you have been more loyal even than I, and I respect that," she admitted, and even turned to Hessonite with lidded, glassed-over eyes, "so why can you not see it?"
However, only silence met her as the parade's song began its outro. Pure instrumental that it was, to her, she could hear it was a slight variation on the nostalgic sorrow of the chorus. For a civilisation this ancient and proud, the piece fitted well; it made sense to make one last look back on such storied history.
Right now though, the music grated on her already frayed esteem.
"I suppose this is the end of the event, thank you for the invitation."
On that cue, she too returned to the unspoken script.
"And I hope the spectacle met your expectations. Fair travels."
'Stars damn it.'
Aquamarine stood silent for a while. The solid wood door slammed shut behind her, and she was left to stew alone.
However, as civilians mingled again and life was returned to the streets below, her own liveliness left her with a shuddered sigh.
She did not pretend that she ever got along with her colleague, but even by those low, low standards, that was catastrophic. Had she been too callous, too arrogant, too forward? Did she underestimate how quickly Hessonite had grown attached to the Plutokrator cause?
The rejection hurt more because her respect for the High Marshal was so genuine. As the senior between the two, she had watched in no small amazement as they had risen so far in the ranks.
Many hecklers whispered though. They said that Yellow Diamond's young fantasies of meritocracy resurfaced momentarily, and that was the sole reason which allowed a mere Garnet-Militant to rise to a post, which by law, only Beryl-Militant should hold. But even as a Beryl-Militant herself, Aquamarine knew better.
She had been there in the battle that made Hessonite's name.
After their commanding Heliodor's position had been overrun and consumed in a swarm of teeth and whirring blades by the flesh-machine abominations of the Ky Til, they rallied surviving Imperial Army troops to a defensible area where they held out for months. Beyond that though, even before the Imperial Navy finally broke through the swarms of AI drone ships to resupply and reinforce, Hessonite had also managed the occasional daring raid from that stronghold to destroy a number of the local server-fortresses.
On the home planet of the beasts, and indeed, for the whole war against those incomprehensible monsters, she knew Hessonite had fought with tactics and valour in equal measure.
The listful look of reminiscence fell from her eyes at that moment. More than once, she had seen the absolute conviction they put into a cause they truly believed in, and while it was a great asset, she admired it too for its own sake. Now though, the possibility for that energy, that drive, to be convinced over to her side was gone.
To totally lose access to that was a shame - it was a definitive blow to her, and to many who did not even know it.
Though she knew old hidebound Hessonite would cooperate in the end, for the Diamonds themselves had signed off on the upcoming war, it was weak consolation.
'But that's it,' She knew, 'cooperate. Not support, not champion, only cooperate.'
The split within the Stratokratores could have been healed with Hessonite's steadfast support. Her own sub-faction, the Diplomatists, could have rallied. With the High Marshal's blessing, many of the Militarists could have been convinced, and those who were not, sidelined, to abandon the far longer and costlier traditional campaign of extermination.
The Diplomatist's far cheaper route of gunboat diplomacy, and failing that, a campaign of subjugation, could have been ascendant. The Empire could claim territory at a bargain price, and once control was consolidated in their extragalactic colonies to-be, those organics would have been at their mercy anyhow. If they got uppity, well…
After she had hung her head and pondered for so long, she noticed her tall helmet slipping from her hair-do, and so Aquamarine pushed it back up.
That done, she returned to the confines of her mind, 'Could, could, could… ah well, no use in mourning broken shards,' She stood up and turned to walk back inside, 'their loss, I could have helped them handsomely in return, AND her stars-damned Plutokratores could have come over to ogle numbers anyways - at least once we were done conquering.'
With or without them, if she sat still and lamented, it would help nothing and no one.
Her internal clock ticked again, a naval officer conference she had organised was due in two hours, it reminded her. It was to be an affair that would take up the rest of the day, she knew.
Then after that, there was little more than three weeks of 4979 left. Recent complications with a gem probe's detection by the Koravets meant the war against them was slated to begin within a few months of the 4980 new year to keep with the element of surprise. The navy had to be ready.
With a fresh opportunity to rally her cause at hand, she walked out that same ornate door with a stride, 'there is much to be done.'
A/N:
Ik it seems like a departure that the gems encountered other sophont alien life besides humanity, but there was no other way in mind for them to have such armies. Warships and trained soldiers just seemed overblown to serve as a police force, especially with the pre-programmed loyalty in gemkind anyways.
I still tried to stick to that vibe though, and it's why any past aliens I described the gems encountered were very strange. Humanity then were the first aliens similar enough to the gems that the two could communicate properly.