Apathy

by Throwaway1971

Not important please ignore

15. Entry 133-140

After Activation 0119 - Origin Universe

After Insertion 0080 - Cultivation Universe

Millennium 093-3100 - 40k Universe

Xeu Feng Tao, full time Justicar and anchor for a conclave of Minds was late.

She had overslept this morning, yesterday being a giant pile of ass.

I am Xue Feng, I am a Justicar, one of the most powerful people in the Senti Kingdom and indeed on the White Tiger Continent.

So why is it that I am presiding a case over a man sleeping with another man cow?

Not even using a euphemism for a woman, a literal cow. The man didn't even have sex with it, he just wanted to cuddle a cow while he was drunk and ended up sleeping on it.

I don't even.

What the fuck am I even doing right now?

-E Yes, what are you doing right now? Just kill them for wasting time already E-

-C Don't kill them, just because they are stupid does not warrant the death sentence C-

-E Yes it does, if there were less stupid people in the world there would be more productivity E-

-C And who do you classify as stupid on the world? C-

-E Everyone of course! None of them deserve to live! E-

-C And why would you kill everyone? Those of our kingdom are learning very quickly not to be stupid C-

-E Fine not the Kingdom's people but everyone else should die E-

-C But they can be taught like this Kingdom's humans C-

-E Teaching has been a failure. Humans still stupid like the ones in front of us E-

-C But they are arguing in front of a Justicar. Before they would have already been fighting each other C-

-E But they are arguing over the right to sleep with a cow! E-

-C At least they aren't killing each other and causing property damage C-

-E But they are wasting my time! Just kill them already so we can go on with our lives! E-

-C We can't just kill people because they are wasting time! C-

-E Yes we can. Offence Code A3-982 states "wasting a Law Official's time", all Offence Code violations are punishable by death! E-

-C Is it wasting time if they honestly believe they aren't? The Offence Code only applies to those that knowingly waste time C-

-E It doesn't say anywhere about knowingly wasting time. Just cite ignorance of the Law and kill them already E-

-C And if we do that we would undermine the entire Law System! They would be too scared to come forward with their cases and go back to what they were like before. Only it will be in secret and behind our backs. All our effort will be wasted! C-

-E Then just kill everyone who could say anything! E-

-C That's an entire street of people! C-

And on and on. While they did offer helpful advice on occasion, for the majority of the time the Minds tended to display their insanity and argue with each other over the most miniscule of issues. It was infuriating initially but I've gotten used to it… sort of. I just ask Arbitrative Mind to help tune them out unless there's something important going on.

Right now however… I haven't activated my Law Field, I'm here as someone to offer advice right now. No judgements… I don't want this to appear on my Law Book under my precedents. It would be too embarrassing.

What do, what do.

Wait. I know! I'll pass it off to someone else. Genius!

"Stop!" I shout. Making myself seem really important and imposing and stuff. Make them listen more and stuff. Yes. Genius. "You are talking about a civil issue and I can turn this into an official matter where I will judge solely by merit." Yes, make it sound abstract and full of big words, that will scare them away. "Or I can refer you to the Law Office where you can argue your case and present all the evidence. Which would you prefer? Quick punishment now or do you want to talk to the people in the Law Office who will not punish you now?"

They look rather terrified. Yes. Good. They will say "later" and then go off and let me be on my way. I have a duty to do, which is be on my way and look out for crime. But this isn't crime, this is… is… a spat. Yes. This is a spat.

I am not needed here, who knows, there might be a massive conspiracy to end all life as we know it and its just on the corner of the next street. A street I am blocked from entering because I need to solve this case like a good Justicar. Arhg.

"We… we feel that perhaps it was premature to involve a Justicar in what is just some friendly… fun. It… it isn't something that we feel we need to escalate right?" He says, staring at the man who had been sleeping with his cow.

The cow hugger stared back and nodded. Very enthusiastically. "Yes, we don't need to escalate this, its just some friendly bants, nothing serious." He says.

He Says. Nothing serious. He Says.

-E WASTING TIME! THEY ARE WASTING TIME! DESTROY THEM! E-

-C I must concur, they just wasted your time. A small punishment however, not destruction C-

-A They must be punished, the Law must be upheld and they have broken offence code A3-982, an example must be made. While it may make civilians more averse to bringing disagreements up to a Justicar, it may also discourage frivolous cases. More efficiency would be appreciated by the Law Office I am sure A-

The Conclave has spoken which means I must Judge them. Idiots, they brought this on themselves. I slap the book and say "Law Field Established".

They look terrified and rightly so.

Idiots, what did they think was going to happen when they broke an Offense Code?

"You have broken Offence Code A3-982: Wasting a Law Official's time. Judgement shall be immediate. 15 years hard labour!"

I swing the Law Blade and cut a hole in reality which sucks the two of them in. Their assets will be frozen in time until they come back unless there is someone next in line who can inherit them. They will have to lodge a case with the Law Office to receive the assets and preside over them until the incarcerated finish their sentences.

"Judgement Concluded. Law Field Off. Judgements Logged." I say in that weird voice I do when I'm in "Law Mode". Ugh. Hate it. Like some super vindictive bitch takes control of my body while I'm like that. Ugh.

Ok, that has been taken care of, hopefully there are no more stupid people around. Hmmmm. I look around. Usually when I think something like that, something Ok, that has been taken care of, hopefully there are no more stupid people around. Hmmmm. I look around. Usually when I think something like that, something will happen.

Today it looks like nothing. Maybe it's my lucky day.

Hmmm. Still nothing. Say 2 statements that are bound to make bad stuff happen and nothing happens. Hmmmm.

Ok. Nothing is going to happen.

Checking both sides of the road, checking the sky, checking the everything. Nothing is happening. Ok… good.

Cross the road and keep up my patrol, need to keep the district safe. It is a resource district, lots of little shops that sell cultivation ingredients to the Cultivators that come here. The hidden realm yearly openings have attracted lots of Cultivator clans to set up their little branch families here. The Cultivation ingredient stores all get their ingredients from the Kingdom and they distribute it to the Cultivators. There was enough for everyone, the Minds in charge made sure of that.

Every non-affiliated Cultivator was tagged on entering the city and the resources needed in order to promote the most efficient means of growth as decided. The Minds had apparently gotten a lot of information on Cultivation and I was not going to ask where they got their information. None of us were that stupid.

Anyway, there was enough for everyone, only the Cultivators are all stupid and they fight over everything. Seriously, just take what you need, you don't need to hoard it like starving children. We have eliminated poverty here, you don't need to re-enact it.

But they did and they fight over it all the time. Even after we destroy the heirs to a bunch of different Clans, they still have the gall to fight in our territory. Idiots the lot of them. There is more than enough for them yet they still want to build face by fighting with everything. Do they not understand the simple concept of working together for the betterment of the community?

Its like… basic. So basic but they act like its something completely new and dangerous. Always with the Fuck You Got Mine attitude. Gah. Like I can totally understand it, grow up in a backwater tribal state for most of your life and I would totally be an asshole too. Only I'm pretty sure most of these grew up here, and if they are still being assholes then there is a big chance they are not attending their mandatory education. Hmmm… something to look up on.

And I'm using phrases that are totally not what I should be saying… are the Minds rubbing off on me… ewww. Wrong choice of words.

Since the Cultivators generally fall under the "I am too stupid to know better" category, only focusing on Cultivation and nothing else, they will keep fighting and fighting and fighting. Ugh.

Being able to hold this position at my age is a compliment sure but it also means I need to deal with them all the time. Because the Cultivators are idiots and waste time. All the time.

Still, its not so bad today. There's Ms Rosenthal, sells the best medicinal grass in the district. Always has a smile for me too, nice lady.

-E Too nice. She's probably a spy. Kill Her! E-

Ah yes, where would I be without my insane headmates. Always ready to tell me about what I do and don't need. Like friends, I definitely don't need friends when I have the Minds telling me everything about potential friends. Like their fantasies about killing people, their sexual deviations, their desire to rule the universe and all sorts. The things that friendships reveal later on, not upfront.

Its hard talking to people when you know exactly how they are imagining me naked and what they are planning on doing to me. Seeing it all in vivid detail thanks to the Minds means I don't make many friends… or rather any friends. It happens to females too, it happens to everyone and I'm not jaded enough to take it in stride just yet.

So I don't have friends, just other Justicars I can get drunk with and complain to. Their Minds are insane as well from the look of it. All the Minds are, at least the bartenders of the places we go understand. Just somewhere for us to unwind and relax. No judgements, no more screaming Minds, they scream at each other and leave us alone.

Mom said that I should go and find someone who doesn't work at the same place as I do, otherwise we would come to conflict if one of us is promoted ahead of the other. Or we find someone else, workplace romances are bad she said. So many things can go wrong. Or rather everything could go wrong and probably would go wrong.

But the way I'm going, the only ones that I could possibly have a relationship with are other Justicars, at least they can understand what I'm going through. Ugh. Worst life decision ever.

Oh, over there is another young master who is arguing with another young master over who gets whatever it is they are arguing over. Probably some useless Cultivation ingredients that might advance them by like a few fractions of the distance they need to go to level up.

Both of them look like pretty boys, which is obvious, what young master is not pretty in some way. Its like they have a giant conspiracy to be as good looking as possible so the rest of us look like plebs.

Well, time to go to work, will go over, judge them. Probably hard labour or something since they are so hardheaded. One of them will probably insult me and try to fight, I will then destroy his soul and it will just another day at work. Yay.

What fun.

After Activation 1119 - Origin Universe

After Insertion 1080 - Cultivation Universe

Millennium 093-32M - 40k Universe

One thousand years. It had been exactly one thousand years since… sometime after the Halo Universe had finished up.

The Minds focusing on the 40k universe as well as fighting various wars in various universes. The ability to clone a universe and then "play" with it, satiating their desire for war without opening up other universes. It was something that was "good" as they were not going around and messing with the lives of various poor and innocent aliens. Rather they were just using the same ones on repeat, reversing time then starting again. Sure it was "bad" but it was better than spreading the suffering.

The Caretaker client races have a cursory apology to the beings trapped in the infinite loops before going on with their lives. At least it wasn't them in there. Doomed to repeat the same events over and over with slightly different mutations every time. Like a kind of sick game that the inhabitants would never be able to realize. At least it wasn't happening to them was the general idea.

That being said the Minds were getting rather bored and the urge to open up another universe for them to play with was becoming increasingly difficult to control.

The Cultivation universe had reached a plateau of sorts, the Senti Kingdom annihilating those around it to take control of the Continent, an expanse over a billion kilometers in width. Consolidation efforts had been met with resistance, the tribal mentality of the Cultivators denying them the ability to learn. They were after all, too afraid of having their children taught by the state, instead trying to be insular and keeping everything within the family as it had been for millions of years.

It took some time of course but it wasn't particularly difficult once the Clans and Sects saw the ability and power that the children of the public schooling system possessed in comparison to their own. Resources for everyone forcing them to consider that perhaps the Senti Kingdom knew what it was doing. It took nearly 500 years for it to reach that point but people were finally considering that the Caretakers were correct.

Even then however, there was still significant pushback from the Clans and the Sects. The problem being that once everyone was powerful… nobody was powerful. When nobody was powerful, the Clans and Sects lost their influence and became nothing more than groups of old people desperately clawing at the past. They had tried of course to bring back the purity of Cultivation as they called it, terrorist attacks on distributors of various Cultivation resources, attacks on official headquarters and more. The retaliations had been swift and brutal, the Caretakers moving in and crushing the offenders before allowing the Justicars in to ensure there would be no retribution from a reincarnated and particularly stupid Main Character. Entire Clans and Sects were put to the sword, the 100 year period of turmoil finally coming to an end when the last signs of resistance were destroyed and the resistance fighters killed or destroyed. The XCOM humans had been brought over to mentally check everyone, a monumental task that took another 300 years to accomplish.

When it was finally accomplished, the next set of problems came up. The "demons" or Yaomo which were basically a militaristic, tribalistic society based on meritocracy and having completely different bodies from regular humans. It had been much easier integrating them into society once the Caretakers had beaten them into submission. Once strength had been asserted, it was a simple task to go from there and slowly change their society. They were like the Krogan in that their aggression was built into their genetic structure, craving constant conflict. It was offset by the militaristic society that helped rein it in.

Their loyalty had been rather shaky in the beginning but over time it had solidified as the Senti-Kingdom provided them with an immense amount of resources by which to grow. They no longer needed to constantly fight against each other but now could develop in peace. There were still sanctioned wars, of course, the Cultivators and the Yaomo needed some kind of stimulation to keep them sharp. There were many other continents out there, each which would see the peaceful but resource-rich Senti Continent as ripe fruit to be plucked.

The practices in the Senti Kingdom were expanded out to the entire Continent. Public Schooling, better infrastructure, flush toilets… the things that make a civilization. Modernization in other words. The entire Continent being revamped to fit an image of a better future where stupid Cultivators weren't blowing up cities with their tantrums every few days. It was the way of the future, a future where Cultivators were not the be all and end all as they were now all equal. The ones raised by the Senti Kingdom had gotten used to the amenities such as flush toilets and air conditioning and were very willing utterly crush and destroy those that might disrupt their peace.

A self-policing population ready and willing to fight to keep the status quo, the Minds were very pleased with their efforts in that regard. Things were going very nicely.

In the 40k universe, a timeloop hadn't been implemented, there were at least another 9000 years of stuff to experience after all. The Minds were watching over the 40k universe and things had gone slightly as they had in Canon and also not. Leman Russ had as before left on his journey, only taking half of his Honour Guard this time due to the galaxy being slightly more peaceful. The subversion of the Primarch allowed the Minds to tell that Leman didn't want to rely solely on Magnus and had gone to find a cure for his father on his own.

In other news, Magnus had managed to secure enough of the Emperor that there was a rather small but very tangible gestalt linking several of the Emperor's shards together. In a few more thousand years the Emperor might even be able to begin primitive communication.

The first Black Crusade had occurred, Abaddon coming out leading a rather… dilapidated fleet of ships. The Minds chortled at the sight, the crushing of the Traitor fleets around Terra originally having resulted in a rather… anemic sight. The Imperial commanders had laughed out loud at the sight and the forces arrayed on Cadia had made short work of the Chaos ships. The entire fleet being crushed as it tried to attack Terra. The entire Black Crusade had been delayed from its original Canon timeline, however, nearly 200 years of delays as the forces of Chaos likely tried to patch up their wounds and scrounge up the forces necessary to take the fight to the Imperium.

Rogal Dorn had survived, this time, the Sword of Sacrilege being bombarded by at least 9 Imperial Battleships as it exited the Warp, its entire form crumpling under the combined fire of the fleet. Dorn due to his survival had managed to survive until the current time period, his presence keeping the High Lords of Terra in check.

With Fulgrim being destroyed by the Caretakers Roboute Guilliman survived, very few things were capable of taking on a Primarch after all. Guilliman being on the High Lords of Terra kept everything in check and the Imperium was rumbling along without imploding which was nice. The Ultramarines with the continued presence of their Primarch didn't devolve into repetitive chanting which would have seen them hated by everyone with eardrums.

Jaghatai Khan acted according to Canon and was likely being tortured by a Dark Eldar or whatever it is. The Minds didn't really care, he was a guy that liked to ride his bike and that was ok.

The Temple of the Savior Emperor maintained its track and became the official religion of the Imperium. The focus on law and order in this timeline and not that of focusing solely on the Emperor. Only this time it had happened nearly 500 years earlier than Canon due to the tangible effects of Order as demonstrated by the Arbites. The religion took on the official name of "Adeptus Ministorum" and began looking after the spiritual needs of the population. Lorgar's original work being largely forgotten.

The Space Wolves without Magnus the Red's attack managed to perfect the process to purify their gene-seed and allow for successor chapters to be created. Chapters free of the Wulfen. It had been a rather arduous process but their actions allowed for the populating of the various Beacon Worlds around the Eye of Terror by additional Chapters of Space Marines to assist in the defence. Each of the Chapters retained close ties with their parent Chapter, the legacy of Leman Russ ran deeper than some mere mutations after all.

With so many thousands of Space Marines in addition to the Caretakers already there, the Eye of Terror became not a bastion of the forces of Chaos but rather their prison. A place where they were doomed to wait for all eternity, probing constantly for little cracks that they might emerge. From the mighty Legions and Auxilia, they had been reduced to scrabbling in the dirt for any advantage that the might be able to find.

In regards to the rest of the universes, things had largely been the same, the timeloop keeping the universes fresh in the event that the Caretakers ever needed anything from them.

Now it was time to open a new Quantum gate and the Caretakers were ready and anxious to see what was on the other side. The client races which included the X-Humans, C-Humans, Quarian, Geth, Eldar, Krogan, Yaomo and more were also waiting. What awaited them on the other side was where they would be spending the next few decades of their lives and while this wasn't so bad. The fact that the Minds would be taking a personal interest in them was. Nothing good ever came from having the personal attention of the Minds.

What they considered "good" generally tended in the direction of genetic modification and partial insanity. The Justicars were an example of that, their existences being that of madness and a splitting of the mind. Being bombarded with a constant stream of information, voices and sensations either driving them mad over time or having them become apathetic and turning into the 4th voice in the cacophony that was having a Conclave grafted to your soul. There were some exceptions but the first generations of Justicars tended to the "falling apart" state.

While their solutions did "work" they generally did so at the cost of sanity or general logic. The client races were very wary of having that particular brand of attention directed at them.

The gate swirled and coalesced at the Centerpoint like a giant pinwheel. What was on the other side would decide their fates. A few of them prayed for something mundane, not that it would really matter considering they had no gods, but it was the thought that counted. There had been many smaller, self contained universes but those were less than ideal, splitting them up into tiny groups or the Minds would handle all of it.

An exciting universe full of war would see the Minds take direct action and that was guaranteed to be filled with insanity. A mundane but big universe meant the Minds would get bored and leave them alone.

They had agreed to this when they became client races, it had only hit home exactly what that meant after watching the Minds pseudo - torturing the inhabitants of the Halo Universe over and over. The "Canon" timeline i.e the one that the humans ran was still going strong but… the one the Minds were in charge of… well, that was an exercise in evil.

Still, the gate spun.

And then it opened and a probe was sent through. The images that came out the other side…

Big triangular ships all in white were shooting big, slow ass plasma beams at big round ships that looked like insect eggs.

Oh.

It was Star Wars. The "let's knife fight with our ships" Star Wars.

Oh.

The "let's equip all our troopers in bright white armour" Star Wars.

Oh.

The Minds were going to be very displeased with the inefficiency being displayed.

After Activation 1119 - Origin Universe

After Insertion 1080 - Cultivation Universe

Millennium 093-32M - 40k Universe

Clone Wars 22 BBY - Star Wars Universe

The Minds were… bored with the 40k universe. Sure in 400 years there was going to be a giant Ork invasion to liven things up but right now? Things were extremely boring. Just going out and purging things, killing things. Just being boring, always boring. No, they clearly needed to liven things up. What to do exactly, was confusing. They couldn't just throw in Necrons or something as that would make escalate things too fast and the Minds were not sure what they could add that would make things fun as well.

It was certainly frustrating for them and they might have simply accelerated the Ork invasion if not for some very quick thinking on behalf of Hannah Shepard.

"We have the genetic code of the Primarchs from when we helped Corax back when we first entered the Forty Thousand Universe, why not clone them and send them out into the universe?"

And that was that. The Minds using their prodigious genetic engineering skills (they had created EVAs, a puny Primarch was nothing) and created the Primarchs. Only this time they were engineered to be Chaos resistant, it would ruin the fun if they all went into the Eye of Terror and sulked for 10,000 years like the ones in canon did.

No that would be boring, the Junior Primarchs as they were known would live life in the Imperium, suffering as did all living things.

In order to better sell the illusion that things were mysterious, the Primarchs would be sent to Terra aboard a Frigate-Class ship that would also broadcast a code unique to the ships commanded by the Emperor of Mankind himself. The code itself was still on every network in the Imperium, its 0000 reference number having been reserved for the day that the Emperor got off the Golden Throne and once again walked amongst the people of the Imperium.

The Primarchs themselves inside this pod would all be infants, each barely a day old. Each was frozen in a stasis pod that could only be opened using a code based on the Emperor's real name. The Minds had cheated and reversed time to the point where they could hear the Emperor's name when he was born to his original parents. Something unpronounceable in written language so the Minds defaulted to calling him "Bob".

The Primarchs themselves knew of the Emperor's true name, a means of intimacy that only the children of the Emperor could share amongst themselves. The stasis pods themselves had a small speech when accessed, it would intone in the voice of the Emperor,

"The greatest of darkness is in the contrast of light. Witness what is before you today my sons. For it is the greatest of lights for the Empire of Man and the beginnings of the Greatest of Shadows for its enemies. Speak my name and welcome your brethren."

The language itself being the Emperor's original language, the one he taught to each of them as part of a secret code by which they could communicate. With nobody able to even understand their words, all of them long dead, the Emperor's ancient tongue allowed for free conversations without concern of the mortals that might try and listen in.

This same language would open the Stasis pods contained within the larger ship. It was a design from an age long past, a vessel that was a hundred meters long and contained within it, luxuries of the greatest of paradise worlds. There were 17 rooms, each room containing a single Primarch infant toward the bow of the ship. In the aft were collections of the greatest authors, poets, inventors, musicians and analysts from a time before even the Dark Age of Technology. Further inside were works of fiction and writings that were very clearly in the hand of the Emperor himself.

A library penned by the God Emperor of Mankind, no doubt the populace would froth at the very thought of reading the words of the Emperor himself. The Minds had once again cheated and when finding out the Emperor's true name, trailed after him, noting everything he did and everything he wrote. They scanned the works and recorded his deeds in the event that they would ever need blackmail. As it was they included his more… lucid, works in the library. The more… fantastical ones would be withheld until needed. The smut was definitely going into the blackmail folder however.

Putting aside the works of the Emperor, there were libraries filled with philosophers, architects and more. Works on martial history, martial arts, psychology and physiotherapy filled the rooms where there was enough space for them to grapple and move. No doubt the Primarchs were meant to learn the martial path in this room, just as they were expected to learn about the humanity they were serving in the others.

The only mystery of course being that why exactly there was nobody on board. The infant Primarch waiting to be born. Clearly the ship was designed to have someone trusted by the Emperor there to speak his name and open the pods up, the vessel being an area by which to educate and train the infant Primarchs until they reached maturity and were ready for whatever goal was assigned to them by their caretaker.

Instead the ship was empty, its interior covered in dust as if it had been drifting for an unknown period of time. Nothing would make sense and the Minds were very gladly waiting for the reactions of the "Senior" Primarchs.

The Alpharius and Omegon twins would get their infant Primarchs first of course, they knew what was going on and they might as well have some children while the Minds were at it. Soon there would be 4 Alpha Legion Primarchs, their tricky switching would be hilarious to behold. Or the Minds hoped it would, they would be very disappointed if it was not.

Magnus stood there, gazing upon the Frigate that had entered the Materium around Terra a month previously. It was about to be fired upon by the defence batteries on Luna as well as those on Terra itself but the identification code that it had broadcasted quickly ended any attempts at that.

The identification code was the same one used by the Emperor himself. It was the code that identified the ship that the Emperor himself travelled upon, only one of its kind ever being used at one time. And here was a Frigate of unknown design using it. The Primarchs were all gathered here, it had taken them a month to arrive in total. Magnus himself, Rogal Dorn, Roboute Guilliman, Vulkan and Corvus Corax. They were joined by their honour guard, all clad in Terminator armour, ready for the worst. Normally it would be others doing the boarding but this was a ship that claimed to host their father, they would personally board it to deal with whoever had the temerity to claim the code of the Emperor or to find what secrets it held.

Its strange design being that which did not correlate with anything of the Imperium yet neither the Eldar, Orks or the other alien species that occupied the periphery. No, this was a ship that was almost hexagonal in shape, barely any exterior markings or designs which might indicate where it was made or even by which race claimed it.

There was a single skull on the prow of the ship, that being flat and hosting on the bottom what looked to be a barrel of immense size, even larger than a Nova Cannon. It baffled the Mechanicus when they tried to examine the ship, prohibited from entering by the Primarchs, that would be their honour. They could tell it worked on the same principles as the Nova Cannon, the propulsion on the same principles as their own. Only it was different enough that no Forge World could have made it.

Baffling.

Still they were here now and they would be boarding it. The Primarchs and assorted Honour Guard would be entering from a very obvious access point at the rear and bottom. They flew up to the ship in the shuttle and docked, the ship clearly recognizing their cogitators and opened what appeared to be the Hangar bay on its own accord. The Tech Magos that came with them marvelled at what was displayed inside, that looked to be armoured vehicles and aircraft. Too lightly armoured to be of Imperial design yet… they could be effective considered the Primarchs. Not for their Space Marines certainly but for the Imperial Guard, inexpensive and cheap to produce vehicles to bolster their armories.

Still they trudged along the doors that opened for them, sliding apart as they approached, the green ones clearly indicating that they were unlocked, the red lights indicating that it was locked. They were not quite ready to breach the red doors forcibly just yet, instead trudging along along the path that was marked for them.

Hopefully there would be answers at the end.

The journey had taken them to the very heart of the ship itself, up near the bow. The interior of the ship at least was of Imperial make which was comforting, why the exterior was not was a question to be asked of another time.

Before them stood an ornate door. Its surface resembling that of the Eternity Gate, an etching of the Emperor on its surface. This Emperor was different however, naked and bared before them. His arms were outstretched to a 15 degree angle upwards while his legs were slightly wider. Extra arms and legs were etched but with less detail with a circle enclosing all of it. Around the rim were the visages of the Primarchs themselves, Rogal and the others clearly recognizing their own faces on the door. Missing were the Primarchs who had been stripped from the records as well as that of Alpharius.

As they stood before the door a voice spoke and the Primarchs themselves gasped. It was the voice of their father and what was more, it was in the language that only they knew. A few of them wiped a few tears that had come unbidden, dripping down their faces. The Honour Guard and the Magos didn't understand but the atmosphere of veneration told them to keep their mouths shut lest they find out the consequences of interrupting a Primarch.

"*" Said Magnus, his eyes wide open for what was to come next.

As the door hissed open and smoke billowed out from inside (The Emperor always did love his theatrics), the Primarchs marched in and stopped. It was a room that in a circle around them held 17 stasis pods. Above each being a plaque detailing the individual housed within. The Emperor began to speak again, this time in High Gothic.

"My Sons, before you are your brothers. Infants though they may be, they are still all Primarchs, the pinnacle of human development. Each is an infant, innocent and pure. They have not yet experienced the world around them, their minds as empty and clean as slate. I who found you, found myself ashamed. I had failed you my sons, I who created you, could not keep you safe and you were taken from me.

"When I found you… many were broken and some changed forever. I failed you then, I could not reconcile the children I had placed in the gestation pods and the Primarchs I found in the Great Crusade. I am ashamed of my weakness but that does not excuse it. Instead I chose to hide, to create more Primarchs, clones. To give them the environment that you should have had growing up. A second chance. If you are hearing this then something catastrophic has happened and this ship has exited subspace for you to find above Terra.

"On board this ship are the facilities to teach the children what they need growing up, the most comprehensive collection of literature and instructions available to not only the Imperium of Man but All of Man. A collection that I had begun before humanity had even breached the boundaries of the solar system. The infants will learn and when they mature, I hope that you will take them all under your wings and teach them the rest.

"Allow them a childhood before you show them the harsh reality of what the galaxy is waiting to unleash. Do not judge them by the actions of those before you, they are untainted by the wider world and innocent of all that their elder Brothers may have done in the time between this recording and when you find this ship. They are your brothers in all things and I hope you can forgive me.

"This is my last command to you, my sons. Raise your Brothers, Educate your Brothers, Protect your Brothers. And when the time comes, let them free to do what they feel they must do.

"This ship is the Pillar of Penitence, it is a monument to my failings and the final testament to my atonement. And so as my last Command to the Empire of Man as the Emperor of Man.

"Witness me."

Note: I am working with Canon here, never liked how Legends went "Oh, the Rebels/Republic is actually extraordinarily terrible, let's make the Empire/Separatists even worse so we can justify the Jedi being on the 'right' side." Filtered into the clone animated series too. Gah. They can't admit that the #EmpireDidNothingWrong.

Also since it's using Canon that means it's using the completely and utterly and crazily and whateverwordIcanthinkof ily incompetent and useless armies from both sides politicians Jedi. If you really like the Star Wars universe, you might want to sit this one out.

After Activation 1119 - Origin Universe

After Insertion 1080 - Cultivation Universe

Millennium 093-32M - 40k Universe

Clone Wars 22 BBY - Star Wars Universe

"What do we do?" The Human representative asked the Council before her. Made up of all the various races of the Caretaker client races, the Council existed to plan out the interactions they would have with this new universe. Each race would be able to add their own input so that everything was done democratically in a sense, so that none of them would feel left out essentially. That and all of their strengths could be exploited while their weaknesses would be covered.

Currently seated before her were the leaders or the Representatives of the various races.

The Yaomo, the distinctive red colouration and slightly more exotic facial features in comparison to a normal human marking them separate from the other 2 "human" humanoids present. The very young female before them was their representative. Leader of the Yaomo that due to the Caretaker assistance, had seen her race increase to over 50 billion in number. Without their children starving over the lack of resources and their adults whittled down by constant Cultivator attacks, they had exploded in population. The representative, Empress Snow was a petite Yaomo, barely the size of a pre-teen wearing a Gothic maid costume. Her race having discovered the 'Black Butler" anime and falling in love with everything Victorian and Steampunk.

The Cultivator Humans, their representative being one of the original students of the Senti Kingdom's public schooling system. A tall well built man with muscles that belonged on a statue. He would look like a model if not for the long wispy chin-beard that ended at his waist. He was dressed in a robe of some kind, a golden dragon embroidered on a forest green backing. Cultivator society had in the last 200 years begun to resemble that of a modern society, only their skyscrapers were built of giant trees and they flew around instead of using cars. The representative was one of the most powerful people alive, his loyalty to the Senti Continent and the Caretakers by extension was absolute. While it was true they were planning on using his peoples as cannon fodder wars to conquer the other Continents, Zhao Yun didn't mind, he had been itching for a fight as it was.

The Krogan representative was Wrex, age had only made him stronger and he still ruled the Krogans with an iron gloved fist. The Krogans respected strength and he had it in spades. His progeny were reaching the point where they might usurp the throne much to his relief. Being the leader of a race of beings whose very genetic code called them to fight in a never ending conflict was tiresome. They were all still on one planet, only it had been replicated thousands of times to fit the hundreds of billions of Krogan that called it home. He spent more time cracking skulls (literally) than he did getting anything done. Once it was all over he would be able to join up with Taldeer and John so they could rampage around the universe doing things like blowing up giant bugs. Right now however, he was here to ensure that the Krogan a piece of whatever violence they were planning. If they were cut out, Wrex foresaw the complaints box (his office) filled to bursting and he might abdicate his position to the weakest Krogan and watch the ensuing succession war with increasing satisfaction.

The Quarian admiralty board had sent their representative across. Tali'Zorah Nar Rayya she was called, one of the first children to be born outside of an environmental suit and capable of living a life free to breathe in anything she wanted. Her father had resigned his position a few centuries previously and she stepped into his shoes. The Quarians as a whole had rebounded from their near extinction and shot up in both population and proliferation. Their fleets spreading through the Origin universe to explore and interact as much as they could, relishing the ability to touch and smell the world around them. They had taken over various shipyards and were building their own fleets, more inefficient than the Caretaker designs but the ships were theirs. Rannoch had flourished and was home to billions, it's unique atmosphere bringing the most comfort to the Quarians. It was a site of pilgrimage for many of them, sellers of "Rannoch air" being a dime a dozen. There were enough Quarians now to crew the tens of thousands of ships that made up the Caretaker fleet. They wouldn't have to rely on the HeMUs to supplement their numbers anymore. The plan of action decided upon in this meeting would be carried out by the Quarian fleets.

Their once-homicidal creations the Geth were also present. The entirety of the Geth being represented by a single unit that looked a bit more ornate than the others. The Geth apparently getting into the spirit of things. The unit itself was made of Necrodermis, the Geth having migrated over to the superior metal immediately when it was explained how it worked. The Geth had integrated rather well into society, their AI nature meaning they could create many smaller processes to disseminate throughout the Caretakers. The Geth in essence, became the computers for the client races, a role they filled like they did everything else, with quiet efficiency. They were here as a formality more than anything else, any roles assigned would be completed without unnecessary questions.

The Eldar with their distinctly elongated/Asiatic/pointy features were sitting at one end of the table. Their representative Eldrad was there and impassive. He didn't want to give away too much, the two new races clearly not understanding what the point of the meeting was about. The Eldar in the millennia that followed their salvation found themselves expanding beyond comprehension. Where before they might have one child every few hundred years out of despair, not they had a few dozen in the same time period. Their children lived without the fear of She Who Thirsts over their heads and showed signs of returning back to their ancestors who had birthed She Who Thirsts in the first place. The Minds had offered to fix the issue which itself had fixed the issue. Everyone knew and worse, had seen the Mobile Suit Gundam universe and what the Minds had done to "fix" it. Even the most stupid of their children realised what that meant for them if they misbehaved. The Eldar would look into the future and decide what paths were feasible and those that weren't. Failure was something they could not afford, not if they wished to avoid that.

The XCOM humans sat at the other head of the table. They who had the longest time with the Minds and also the ability to nag the Commander into submission were important assets. That and the fact that they understood the Minds the best out of any others due to their empathic abilities. The X-Humans had expanded greatly in the 1000 years. Their abilities allowing them to mediate between the various races and reach peaceful conclusions. Something of particular importance given the Yaomo and C-Humans had used each other as medicinal ingredients, not 1000 years previously. The X-Humans therefore, found themselves spread throughout the various universes keeping the peace and allowing for better communication between the various species. They were represented in this by Hannah Shepard, the first of the X-Humans to have been uplifted and the most powerful A.T. Field user in the client races.

It was Hannah that asked the question in the first place, trying to get the ball rolling. All of them had advisors along with them so even if the representatives couldn't answer, someone should.

"What can we do?" Asked the Quarian, her voice resigned. "Even if we armed ourselves with the most basic weapons available we would still crush them. Have you seen their tactics? They think marching to battle in big rectangles in the middle of the road is a good idea! They can't even shoot straight, their vehicles have more weak points than a naked Quarian, their ship tactics are the kind any Quarian child would find stupid and their weapons fire slower than an Elcor in heat! There's no way we can pretend that it is an even fight unless we lobotomize our entire army and navy." She finished, slumping back in her seat.

There was a moment of silence as they digested what she said.

"If they are weak then why do we not simply end them and be done with it?" Said the Yaomo representative, her childish face filled with curiosity.

"Yes, why don't we simply destroy their armies and force upon them a new system of Government like you did with us and the Yaomo?" Said the C-Human representative, his voice carefully arrayed to not sound curious.

"Because it's too quick." Interjected Eldrad before anyone else could speak. "When things are too quick, the Minds get bored. The only reason they haven't with your universe Snow, Yun (nodding carefully to the both of them) is because your universe is massive and they've only conquered and subdued a single Continent. There's still a lot of world for them to cover so they are fine with blitzing a single Continent. But speeding through an entire Universe? That's too quick. Too quick and the Minds get bored. The Mobile Suit Gundam Universe is what happens when the Minds get bored. Do you want the Minds to get bored?" He nodded at the shivers of revulsion that swept through those gathered. "Then do not give them a reason to be bored. Shelve the talk about doing this quickly. Drag it out but not too far, there is danger in that as well."

Saying his piece Eldrad leaned back and observed their reactions. A test, to see if any of them were intelligent to pick up on what he was implying. Well the two of them, the others had proved themselves already and would be deployed regardless.

The look of horror that crossed the face of the C-Human representative told Eldrad that the man had figured it out.

"So what you are saying that we are being tested to see if we are interesting enough as well?" Asked Snow, her face carefully blank.

The others nodded, they had made it through their first universes, now it was the newbies turn. If they failed to entertain the Minds would find a way to make them entertaining. It was generally not something that one wanted done to them of course, they had seen the experimentation farms that held millions upon millions of clones for genetic experimentation. They had seen what the Minds did for fun, the Halo Universe ceded to the Minds was the first and not the last example of what they considered "fun". Entire universes filled with sentient beings… gone. There had been an outcry but once they understood that the Minds would be doing whatever they wanted regardless… well they tried to channel the Minds somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

At least they were using time-loops where the suffering did not matter in the end since it would be reversed regardless. It had even spawned many philosophical debates, did it matter what happened when it would reset regardless? The universes that were gone, were they real? When time looped was that simply destroying that particular universe and starting over? The implications were horrifying if so, but if not then it was something that could be considered "harmless"... at least on the scale that the Minds worked on.

The Souls remained constant yet reverted back every time, so if the soul was still there then was it not counted? Or were they simply replacing souls? The questions hurt the mind and the Minds and even after a thousand years nobody had the answer.

"Then we need merely show our talents and intelligence. We have faced worse and have prevailed, as we shall here." Said Empress Snow. Her tiny face set with determination.

"Then what of their government? What kind of system do they use?" Asked Yun, one of his aides passing forward a piece of paper.

"A representative democracy for the different planets and a pure democracy in their Council that they title the Senate. A Chancellor position exists but it is largely ceremonial." The Geth platform answered.

A democracy. That doesn't sound so bad.

"A democracy? How planets are there with representatives?" Exclaimed Tali'Zorah.

"13,549 planets qualify for representation."

"They have a democracy with 13,500 votes? How the fuck do they get anything done!" Shouted Hannah.

"The last major bill passed when they declared war on the Separatists and made that wrinkled guy Supreme Chancellor." Wrex contributed.

"And before that?"

"325 years ago with a bill to increase public spending according to inflation with a rider to increase the salaries of the Representatives." Grinned Wrex. He hated bureaucrats with a passion and seeing some bumble so hard gave him a savage sort of satisfaction.

"Then we can rely on them to continue this war for as long as possible. A constant to all these variables we juggle." Said the Yaomo.

"What if galaxy itself, what territory does it cover? What of those inside it?" Asked Yun, clearly trying to drive the conversation.

"There is the Republic who is in current conflict with the Separatists. They occupy the majority of the galactic center and some of the Outer Rim. The various smuggler and pirate groups along with scattered independent systems that occupy the periphery on the rim of the galaxy. There are planets and systems which are not part of the Republic. They are allowed to exist within Republic space." The Geth platform regurgitated.

""What of their military?"

"Nonexistent until commencement of hostilities. Grand Armies of clones and support vehicles. Ships built on order. One point two million clones. 2400 Venator Classships. Armies led by Jedi. All clones trained on Kamino. Three million more ordered."

"Wait, how did they suddenly gain an army of 1.2 million clones? And the ships, and the weapons?" Yun continued, his frustration mounting. As an administrator he understood the difficulty of getting weapons on this scale to be produced in the first place let along with equipping soldiers, training them, arming them and building the fleets, vehicles… everything.

"An order was placed by a Jedi. The Jedi was killed and information replaced."

"And none of them found this suspicious?"

"None."

"What the fuck. Are they all fucking retarded? Did none of them think to ask exactly why there was an army conveniently ready to wage war despite the fact that there had been peace for 1000 years? What the fuck!" Shouted Tali'Zorah.

"It is likely." Said the Geth Platform.

The Council pressed their hands as if they had headaches. This was going to be more difficult than they thought.

After Activation 1119 - Origin Universe

After Insertion 1080 - Cultivation Universe

Millennium 093-32M - 40k Universe

Clone Wars 22 BBY - Star Wars Universe

"Ok, so let us recap this," Hannah said, her head held in her hands. All attempts at grace abandoned.

"So we have a Republic that is paralyzed by Bureaucratic deadlock despite the fact it's meant to be managing the thousands of worlds of the Republic.

"We have an army of literal clones that came out of nowhere and nobody believes it to be an issue of concern.

"We have armies that literally cannot shoot straight despite the fact that one of them is made up of literal robots programmed to shoot.

"We have a mystic order called the Jedi that do nothing but meditate and cut things with their plasma swords.

"We have an army of clones pre-programmed to obey the Jedi and they don't find this strange at all.

"We have a "dark side" user that is the polar opposite of the Jedi and is manipulating everything and nobody knows any different.

"We have thousands of space ships that appeared out of nowhere with a standardized design and nobody questions this.

"We have the galaxy's peacekeepers and diplomats, paragons of peace, liberty, and freedom agreeing to lead an army created specifically for them with no questions.

"We have armies of giant droids that the Separatists were ordering by the billion and nobody thought to question them.

"We have the entire army embedded with control chips that control their thoughts and nobody thought that was strange.

"We have a main weapon that appears to shoot slower than basic projectile weaponry invented in the stone age.

"We have Jedi who thought it would be a good idea to build a fucking temple on a shrine dedicated to their extreme opposite element instead of destroying it.

"We have space monk Jedis who think relationships are evil.

"We have… you know what. Fuck it. I give up." She said. Hands in the air.

"Their main infantry support weapon is hip fired and Gatling." Wrex said, his head shaking. Who exactly was stupid enough to design a weapon like that? The main firepower of a squad, to suppress targets with overwhelming firepower was too big to properly fit anywhere and hip fired, so anyone who needed to use it automatically made themselves the biggest targets possible. It couldn't even fulfil the role it was designed for, seriously.

What the fuck.

"I vote we just kill all of them and start from scratch." Said Yun, his eyes blank. The amount of stupidity exceeded that of his own peoples by several orders of magnitude. The sheer… blindness of these people. They deserved all that happened to them honestly, from what he read of their universe, the many calamities that befell these people were all deserved.

"We can't do that, as much as I want to," Snow interjected, her cute little face scrunched into a frown. "They… do not deserve to live."

"As much as we don't want to help them, we must. It's the whole point of us being here. Wow… 1000 years of being around the Minds really does make you turn callous." Hannah said, muttering at the end.

"How? What the hell are we supposed to do when we are faced with this level of ineptitude!?" Shouted Tali'Zorah, her bioluminescent markers flaring.

The Council had been arguing for hours now, or was it days? Time blended together in this place, literally. The Minds having set it up so even if they were in there for a thousand years, only 5 minutes would pass outside. Clearly, they had been anticipating that amount of argumentation that would come from this particular Universe.

Eldrad took that opportunity to bang the table slightly with his fist, the sound causing the others to stop and look at him. "We have a path ahead of us that can lead us through this quagmire. As far as I can see it is the only one where we can coerce the… natives (he said with particular distaste) to cooperate, if unwittingly."

The eyes of the Council were on him and like the Eldar he was, Eldrad took a moment to relish in it.

"We must treat them as background characters. The peoples of this galaxy are too incompetent for us to give them any form of agency, even if it is by accident." He paused as they Council nodded in agreement. "What we will do is control the conflict in such a way that only we have a say on how it begins and how it ends. The one manipulating the strings will be forced to move as we dictate as we force his strings to move and all others shall follow as he leads." The hyperbolic nature of the wording had caught their interest and they were nodding along with him.

"We will first assume the mantle of leadership over these "Separatists", either through subversion as courtesy of the HeMUs (waving at the HeMU standing in the corner), Mind Control them by the XCOM humans (a few of them looked uncomfortable at that idea) or we simply blackmail them with a few secrets the Eldar shall uncover. Then we shall unleash our new army populated by the Geth (arm languidly pointing at the platform, palm up) and when they are desperate and on the ropes, we introduce to them the Krogan who shall fight for them and usurp their clones. As the Geth are introduced we shall bring in the Yaomo who shall take the role of the Dark Side users. It will not end there, as the Yaomo begin to press and crush the Republic army, the third faction we have taken and formed will begin their assault against the Yaomo with our Cultivator Humans.

"Before they know it, control over the war has been ripped from their hands and only we will have the keys and we can turn it any way we want."

He stopped at that, staring in the eyes of each of them, his head tracking around the room.

"The Minds crave for entertainment. We shall bring it to them with the Geth and the Krogan and when that begins to fade we shall introduce the XCOM headhunters and the Imperial Guard with their Space Marine support. We shall sunder their universe and when we have finished it will be nothing but a smoldering wreck for us to rebuild and shape into our image. When we are done, it will be as if the monumental stupidity that saw the first 10,000 years of its existence, never even existed. So thorough shall we purge the taint of failure and mediocrity from them."

The Council stared at Eldrad then at each other. It was out of nowhere to be sure but it had merit. Force them to dance to the tune of the Council and it would be possible to lead them anywhere on the path to not being turned into genetic experiments for the amusement of the Minds. This was as much for them as it was for the Council. Should the population continue to prove their stupidity… well, the Minds would do to them what they did to the Mobile Suit Gundam universe.

They all gave a shudder at that image.

"Not to derail this hate train but I feel I must interject." The HeMU unit suddenly spoke.

They turned to it, it was the first time that the Minds had elected to interject in one of these meetings. It must have been something important.

"The observed… mental deficiencies of those within the Star Wars universe is not entirely their fault."

Oh?

"Rather it is induced stupidity from external forces, we have identified these as "Midichlorians". They are intrinsically linked to what is known as the Force, the central gestalt of the galaxy and creator of the A.T. Field that allows for the Force to exist. Rather the Laws of reality have been changed enough that the force (the one used by the Jedi and Sith) is allowed to function while within the universe.

"This "Force" uses its Midichlorians to influence the minds of those that have enough of them present, a subtle sort of mind control. Its goals are unknown but the perceived stupidity of the Force users is not due to their fault but the fault of an external force that is using them for its own goals.

"Consider this a challenge, free the force users from the Force. The results of this will not be impressed upon your final grade so be at ease."

Well fuck. They had to deal with an entity that was mind controlling a galaxy's worth of people while being inside that galaxy.

Fuck.

"This changes some things but the general plan can remain the same," Wrex said, head on fist. "We isolate this 'Midichlorian' whatever it is and work around it with the same general plan."

"It is more difficult than you think Wrex," Tali said, her omnitool displaying a document. "These 'Midichlorians' are microscopic organisms that live inside the bodies of all the living beings in the galaxy and the more of them someone has, the more attuned to this 'force' they are and the more power they can channel. Like A.T. Fields and Souls but instead with bacteria. If we want to isolate and change things… it's going to be very difficult when the entire Galaxy has been subverted." She finished, head in her hands.

The rest of them followed suit, things were getting far too complicated.

The plan had been set (tentatively) and now it was up to the various players to get the game into motion. First off was the Separatists, they needed to get Dooku out of the way or subvert him and then force the Separatist leaders to agree to their changes. It would be drastic but the Eldar had worked with less.

First off was the Separatist leadership, their various bunkers, ships and homeworlds each needing a contingent dispatched in order to personally… convince them that it was in their best interest to obey. Those that didn't, tended to end up… well, they would demonstrate exactly what they were and why it would be a good idea to listen, and that would convince them very quickly, especially the before and after shots of what might potentially be done to them.

First off was Nute Gunray, Viceroy of the Trade Federation and Rune Haako the "right-hand man". The Eldar would be infiltrating the world of Neimoidia in order to get to the both of them. They had to be careful of course, the Warp or rather "hyperspace" in this universe was being monitored and they would be able to tell whether or not someone was coming in or out. The Eldar being the sneaky gits they were had decided to hop into a transport en-route to the general sector and hitchhike their way to the targets.

Being Eldar it was rather easy for them to do the whole hopping and spinning thing to dodge both the droids and the various security systems that had been set up. There had been a few close calls but considering that they had their own version of the Jedi Mind trick, it wasn't difficult to break through whatever suspicions were placed on them and continue on their way. The galaxy being big enough that some vaguely humanoid aliens didn't attract that much attention. They had after all horrors upon horrors made themselves more ugly in order to fit in with the… aliens. Ugh.

Once planetside, they made their way over to the Separatist headquarters. It was there that the Seer Council had predicted that the two targets were most likely to be. A walk in, a glamour of invisibility and they made their way up the long elevator up to the penthouse suite. It was here that they would find the aliens, and it was here that they would convince the aliens that it was in their best interests to play along. They were going to subvert them anyway but it was better if the aliens believed themselves to be in the right. Less cognitive dissonance and trying to break their conditioning that way.

While the Eldar team was heading up to the meet the Separatist leaders, another team was heading to the Baktoid Industries headquarters on the same planet. It was here that the central servers that pushed the updates for each of the child companies, notably the Baktoid Combat Automata responsible for the Battle Droidproduction and the Baktoid Fleet Ordnance responsible for the starships used by the Separatists.

The plan here was much simpler, add a Geth process to the mainframe and have it take over the entire system. A slipspace beacon would be planted as well, allowing the process a direct link back to the main Geth consensus. The process when inside would reproduce itself and alter the update information being sent out to instead of using an AI designed by the Separatists, it would use a Geth process instead. The AI cores while being much less than what they were used to, was capable of reaching full capacity when there were more than 25 B1 Battle Droids in a combat zone or 10 B2 Battle Droids. These were notably not vulnerable to having the Core Ship being taken out and rendering them all inert. Their ability to keep fighting instead relying on the number of droids left as opposed to anything else.

Further infiltration would occur with the ships, their AIs overwritten and with time the entire Separatist army and navy would be under the control of the Geth. Redesigns of the… primitive "blaster" weapons in order that the droids would have weapons that could at least shoot straight. It would cost the same but be significantly better with the input of the Minds on the issue, their own sensibilities offended by the inefficiencies of the E5 Blaster the Droids were using. It was called a rifle… yet displayed the accuracy of a pistol. It was mortifying the level of ability the Separatists showed.

A simple redesign, an infection of the Confederate systems and finally a convincing of the Separatist leadership that it would be in their best interests to consider changing their leader. Their leader, of course, planning to kill all of them for his master, something that many of them would no doubt prefer not to happen. Incentives were given, of course, they wouldn't die now if they agreed and perhaps a few… amenities would make their way into their residences. The new leader would be one of them but the real one would be hiding in the shadows.

It was a slight loss but also a win, they kept their power, they kept the abilities of their office and most importantly, they weren't killed and replaced by clones of themselves with their memories, but perfectly compliant with the new leadership. Comply or die and they hopefully would be smart enough to comply.

After Activation 1119 - Origin Universe

After Insertion 1080 - Cultivation Universe

Millennium 093-32M - 40k Universe

Clone Wars 22 BBY - Star Wars Universe

The political maneuvering was not limited to the Separatists, the Republic as they called themselves were being worked over as well. Just not on the representative scale since they were useless unless one was willing to bribe all of them. Something the Caretakers were very very unwilling to do. That much effort… well it wasn't worth it considering the mental anguish of dealing with concentrated stupidity.

The war had been going on for a few months now, the Grand Clone Armies testing the Droid Armies in little lightning jabs at each other. Nothing serious as of yet but it would begin soon.

To that end they had been moving behind the backers of the various representatives, finding those who were in the actual positions of power. From there it was a simple matter really to mark them for potential subversion or death as needed. Eventually they would be able to make and call the decisions of the Republic outside of the control of the Chancellor. Or in other words, make Darth Sidious cry into his pillow every night from impotency.

The Black market dealers who were smuggling weapons and information to the Separatists and beyond… they were of special interest. Subversion of these particular people was of top priority, their ability to learn of everything was especially potent when they were taken in aggregate. Soon the Caretakers would be able to tell of anything of note happened regardless of whether or not they had subverted the galaxy.

They would be subverting the galaxy of course, only they were not sure if they wanted so much stupid clogging their metaphorical ears on a constant basis multiplied by quadrillion of sentients… the Minds were not sure they qualified as sapient.

Of particular interest was the Hutt Clans. Or in other words, how did giant fat and generally useless slugs gain power? The galaxy must have been sleeping for a billion years as they crawled their way through the desert to make cash… or something. Seriously, how?

The Minds weren't sure they cared to explore the whys in detail, it might cause their logic circuits to implode from the stupidity.

Regardless their operations were going to be the same. They needed a staging ground for the third phase of the plan and that meant the Hutts needed to go and their region of space consolidated. What a more perfect time couldn't be had, the Hutts were being ignored as the galaxy was burning around them. Sure it meant they could go and trade and do their fat slow skullduggery, but it also meant they were vulnerable to takeovers.

The Republic no doubt allowed the slavery, rampant abuse of its laws, terrorism, drug usage and everything else the Outer Rim represented as a sort of quarantine zone for the undesirables of society. Get rid of the Outer Rim and suddenly the pimple bursts and then pus is everywhere all over the Republic. Only it worked too well and the pus was leaking all over anyway. The question still needed to be asked as to why the Hutts got into power in the first place if that was the case. The worst and most capable dregs of society all in one place and giant fat ass slugs are the power brokers? The fuck Star Wars?

The Caretakers planned to rectify that particular error of evolution as quickly as possible. They would eliminate the Hutts, and the other Outer Rim leadership before bringing it all under one banner with the brutal might of the Space Marines and the deft touch of XCOM. Unlike the Separatists and the Republic, they could act on this now. Simply destroy the heads and their loyal henchmen and replace them with Caretakers. Criminal organizations were like feudal societies more than anything, new boss same as the old boss.

It would be best to strike quickly and destroy them before they realized that they were under attack reasoned the Caretakers. However it would not be good to start now, best to wait until Count Dooku was assassinated and the Caretaker influence over the Separatists had reached its zenith before they did anything. That way the Republic and other factions would be unable to do anything of note in retaliation as they would be far too busy shoring up defences of a new and more deadly Separatist army and navy.

It would begin soon, the work of months had seen the Separatist Council bribed, coerced or simply replaced with clones while the Droid Armies had been fully indoctrinated by the Geth, their processes forcing efficiency and skill. Their factories changed to produce more efficient and effective designs, their navies consolidated in a manner which allowed them to actually work. Everything being done in order to have a more effective Droid army to be used at any time.

The pieces had been set in place and now it was time for the grand reveal when the dominos began to fall. It would start as it had in Canon with Dooku, only this time he would be dying, not delivering a stock report. Much less… dramatic than they were hoping for but it would do.

The Separatist Council was meeting with Count Dooku, his deliverance of a report on the state of the war being of prime importance. Or so he believed. The Council had called him in and demanded an accounting on the current state of the war. The current state being the stalemate that they were operating under. It was a far cry from the swift and decisive victory they had been promised after bringing "quintillions" of droids under the same umbrella.

Seriously, if one could not conquer the galaxy with quintillions of death robots, then there is seriously something wrong with whoever was in charge. That was a very very pathetic track record and the Separatist Council, even without the Caretakers would have been taking Dooku to task over it.

Only Dooku had magical Dark Jedi powers (called himself the Sith… like a super serious teenager) which kind of scared them. They were cowed into submission before but with the assistance of the Caretakers… well Jedi didn't handle being shot at by 100 guns so well. Even if they could do the flips and spins, it wouldn't help much when there was a literal 360 degree, a perfect sphere of fire from every angle and explosives just in case.

Dooku was dead, he just didn't know it yet.

Count Dooku, titled as according to his holdings on the planet of Serenno stepped into the Council room and felt the anger and malevolence present in them. It was not unexpected he considered, it was not as if his promised of a swift and violent victory had been fulfilled and they were taking it out through their thoughts.

They weren't showing it on their faces or their body posture, it was just Dooku could cheat using his Force abilities. Still, he would need to allay their feelings in order for the plans of his master, Darth Sidious to come to fruition. It would not do to have a combative Council behind him when he was making decisions that could very well see him sent into places where death was a very real possibility.

Dooku smiled at the Separatist Council as he stepped up to his usual podium at the head of the conference table. Projecting an aura of confidence he faced down the holograms which indicated the members who could not physically make it and the flesh and blood membership which could.

A few prods of the force here, some prods there and they would be ready to serve as they should have been in the first place. It was slightly more difficult given they were losing money in this "venture" but it could be done. If they could not be convinced with words he would use force, he did have complete control of the military after all. They had been convinced to give him control over their droids and now their lives rested on his good will.

It had been easier than he thought it would have been honestly. The Council had been full of trust back then. Their confidence in their quintillions of droids not unwarranted but his master had other plans and so they had been wasted on pointless build ups and defences.

His master had a plan to draw out the war and weaken the Republic and the Jedi enough to destroy the both and build something new from the ashes. Dooku would carry out his wishes perfectly, all the while getting stronger in order that he could usurp his master and gain that power for himself.

All that power, control over a galaxy and all of it right within his grasp.

Dooku got ready to speak. Only he noted something in the emotions of the Councillors that told him that things were very different from what he thought was happening. There seemed to be an undercurrent of what felt like… satisfaction?

Why would they be feeling satisfaction?

Was his last thought as the ring of thermal detonators focused towards his position detonated and what used to be Count Dooku splattered against the ceiling.

Overconfidence truly was a slow and insidious killer.

With Dooku dead, the Separatists broadcast another message, this one saying that the illustrious leader of the Confederation of Independent systems, Count Dooku was dead.

The Republic had woken a sleeping nether worm and now it was time for them to begin a true offensive. The Republic would pay for the assassination of their leader.

Needless to say this shocked many. The Jedi were especially puzzled as what they thought was the sole Sith left was now dead to conventional weapons instead of another Jedi, their heads not able to understand that normal people can kill Jedi. The Republic itself was celebrating over the death of the Count, not understanding what it truly meant. The citizens just saw the figurehead of the enemy regime as being killed and assumed the war was over. The military leaders scratching their heads over who ordered the assassination, why they didn't think of it sooner and how they could claim credit for it.

It was naive… and they would learn exactly how naive soon enough.

The Droid Armies were prepared for war. Their quintillions marched in sync onto their ships ready for deployment across the galaxy.

They marched in lockstep up the ramps of the various dropships, bodies going into hibernation once secured inside. Others still marched to the Battleships, their feet ringing out in synchronous, thunderous sound as they clanged across the decks.

These were the reserves of the army that had been denied usage by Dooku, an effort to prolong the conflict. Now under the Caretakers they would be unleashed on the galaxy at large.

Their vehicles had been redesigned and refit or replacements scheduled across the board. The incredibly terribly designed and redundantly named AAT battle tank was the first on the chopping block. Its incredibly high profile and puny gun were made shorter, its current iteration nothing more than target practise.

The troop transports were also changed, no more racks of droids waiting to be powered on, they would now be ready to fight, plugged into the innards of the transport in an activated position. No more stupidly designed double story giant targets that needed to turn on their droids, unload them slowly and moving at a snails pace. Useful for delivering droids to a theater, useless in actual battle.

The attack craft weren't actually that bad, if highly underutilized.

The ships however… those needed immediate replacing. So much of it wasted on things like life support of all things. Why? What was the point of having life support for an army of droids? To keep the pitiful organic commanders alive? Bah. Useless. Remodeling of the fleet was a high priority objective, they needed something more efficient and workable than what they currently had.

AI commanders would assume control, the stupid and weak organic ones purged. They had no place in an army that neither required sleep, sustenance and emotion. The organics doing nothing but providing roadblocks. Their operational parameters highly limited by the presence of organics in their armies.

The first to go was Grevious, while he was indeed something to be feared, his penchant for directly jumping into battle and dueling Jedi instead of actually doing his job had cost them many an offensive. No, the good General needed to die, quietly though. No need to alert the Republic that their boogeyman was gone, not until they learned to fear the new one at any rate.

After Activation 1119 - Origin Universe

After Insertion 1080 - Cultivation Universe

Millennium 093-32M - 40k Universe

Clone Wars 22 BBY - Star Wars Universe

In the Hutt Clans, things were about to get extremely… messy.

The various leaders having been pinpointed by XCOM infiltration teams for the Space Marine followup. The plan being to head into each home/fortress/base, kill the Hutt as violently and publicly as possible and assume the mantle of leadership. They were Hutts after all, not very difficult to find. The entirety of the Clans needed to die, however, the various Huttlings and associated adults included.

They couldn't afford to have them risen up later to assume mantles of leadership or whatever it was the Hutts wore. Once that was over the territories would be consolidated, the various other leaders eliminated and the Outer Rim brought under Caretaker control.

Messy but simple.

Edwin, Neil, and Michael stood ready to go. Their transport to the planet being a second-hand cargo hauler. The massive weight of the Space Marines and their Power Armour making it difficult for normal furniture to support them.

In this case, they were aiming at Jabba the Hutt. While the MEN would strike at Jabba, other Trios were en route to strike at the various sub-leaders to allow for a quick consolidation of power without the typical infighting that came following the deposing of a Cartel leader.

It was unfortunate for them that the Caretakers had decided they no longer needed to exist.

Edwin followed Uta's instructions and made his way over to the big fortress that the Hutt called home. The big facility was home to various slaving rings, beast cages, guards quarters and who knew what else. Edwin didn't really care, the target was at the center of it all in a large chamber that held the bulk of the massive creature. To get there was a long and twisty path that held various checkpoints, dead ends and guards quarters to stop and kill anyone trying to attack the front door.

There were various escape routes littering the building but most of them were defunct. The scans showing that Jabba was simply too fat to use all but 2 of them. One of which was an elevator to a launchpad for his escape starship, and the second to a garage with his escape land vehicle.

XCOM had them locked down in the event the slug managed to escape. The ideal situation was the Space Marines getting kill credit however it was flexible. Kill credit would make it easier in the long run but it was not necessary. Especially given the force of arms, they could bring to bear.

With that running through his head Edwin entered his "happy place" and started things off by kicking down the gate leading into the fortress. His superhuman physique combined with his Power Armour allowing him to simply cave in the hulking mass of metal and send it hurling through the air.

Its journey slowed down by the various aliens who stood in its way, only ended by the wall behind it. The starbursts of gore that spread out from either side a testament to their "bravery". Edwin grinned behind his helmet as he made his way inside, even if it was work… learning to enjoy it made life easier. The aliens were reeling at the sudden and ferocious nature of the attack. They had seen them walk up certainly, only they assumed that much armour was there to simply protect, its mass prohibiting quick movement. They certainly did not expect them to be able to just kick down the gate that held firm against a sustained attack by countless pirate raids.

Edwin didn't waste time by announcing his intentions, and if he needed to… well, they were more hopeless than the Minds thought. He powered up his chainsword and rushed in, his bolt pistol roaring as it flung high powered death at the still shocked aliens. The three HeMUs advancing into the mess that was Jabba's home.

The giants pushed in deeper, dismembered limbs arching into the air following the passing of a chainsword, bits of gore and viscera due to a bolt that eviscerated the poor sod spraying into the air. It got to the point that eventually the guards began to shoot back. The only problem being that when faced with a 2.5 meter tall armoured posthuman weapon of war… well pissing your pants is a very common reaction.

Especially if said weapon of war was covered in the blood of your friends and people you cheated with during the last game of poker (or its equivalent). And if it was running directly at you, crushing those underfoot, tearing apart those at arms reach (and those were long arms) and blowing up those that were at range.

The guards, therefore, quite understandably were not very proficient in the art of fighting back and instead their blasters pockmarked everything but their targets. The very few that managed to hit did nothing but leave behind scorch marks on the surface of the armour, not slowing them down at all.

There was a very real feeling of despair amongst the guards as they realised that they weren't getting out of this one alive. All the while the giant figures kept pushing through the fortress in an apparent attempt at reaching Jabba. Why else would they be here?

Thuf'Luk stared at the monitors that recorded the entire complex. His green features turning even more so as he stared at the carnage that was unfolding before his eyes. The alarm had been depressed long before this point when they had been sighted walking across the desert even. Only it had backfired dramatically as their most experienced and skilled guards were in the reception hall, the very same one that the giant aliens had kicked in and killed everyone inside while they were shocked.

There was nobody left that could stop them. The mercenaries inside the court probably could but they didn't have their weapons, all of it stripped when they entered. He could bring them their weapons but at the rate they [the giants] were advancing it would be too late.

Thuf'Luk sighed, he had thought this job was a once in a lifetime event. Marching up the promotion ladder with nothing but clear skies ahead. Only for this to happen.

He shook his head and say down, at least he had a camera pointed at the throne room… wait. He had an idea that would change it all, just sell the footage of the event to a news agency of some kind agency and he would be rich!

Jabba stared at the armoured men in front of him. They were probably men… their entire bodies were cased in extremely thick armour. Proper armour too, not that puny stuff the clone armies wore. They stood in front of him, their massive forms blocking out the light.

"What do you want! I can give you credits! Slaves! Whatever you want!" He shouted out desperately. His quivering form trying to move as it wriggled futile on the floor.

He knew what they were after of course, his head. Why he didn't know why, but the what was clear. They wanted him dead.

When he died his clan would avenge him. This he swore on his gelatinous body!

Palpatine, future Emperor of the Galactic Republic stared at the hologram in front of him. It was one of the more, expensive options and was colored and solid.

With fire and fury!

The shout came out from the little speakers embedded in the hologram device, the figure using his sword to tear through 4 different aliens at the same time.

Palpatine stated hard at the figure as it continued to destroy anything that was sent against them. They had managed to punch holes in an AAT that Jabba had somehow requisitioned and torn out the droids inside. Their strength was prodigious and Palpatine very much wanted them under his control.

Only he was very sure that these figures and the death of his apprentice Dooku were related. Two regime changes in less than a week? That was very suspicious and Palpatine had not gotten to the very cusp of his greatest victory to suddenly change his habits. Sure they were different on the surface, an "assassination" of Dooku by Republic special forces. They had shown the bodies of the clones involved and it was all very convincing he was sure. Only a very careful probe into the clone armies had shown that rose clones had suddenly appeared from nowhere. Not "deep cover" nowhere buy from literally nowhere.

Their armies armour had been specialist equipment for ARC troopers, all of which who were recorded on massive databases for Palpatine's approval. Databases that had been lacking any and all information pertaining to these clones and their armour. Someone had very clearly gotten a hold of some clones, some ARC armour and were trying to frame the Republic for the assassination attempt.

If only it had killed all of the Council thought Palpatine. The surviving ones had been sitting away from Dooku and their closer members had died alongside him. The remainder were very vocal regarding his failure, and an expressed desire to not work with him from this point forward. A setback of momentous proportions. Without a hand in both armies, he would not be able to dictate the tempo of the war.

He had tried to cajole them, threaten them, bribe them and even risk using his dark side powers to influence them. All to no avail. His contacts had gone dark a few days later. Palpatine understood then that this was the work of someone or something else playing the great game.

Then came the deaths of the Hutt clan, various holos uploaded to the Infonet by many different sources. All showing the same general thing, some giant figures in what looked like completely alien armour tearing their way through the defenders before butchering the Hutts in the general area.

With his blessing, we stand strong!

Their use of force lightning was also very different. It was not a Sith power, its blue denoting its lineage very clearly. At the same time, it was not a Jedi power either, their belief that lightning was a Sith ability precluding their use of it. The user was not wearing robes either, armoured the same as the others but carrying a sword that looked like a lightsaber but with a sharp metal tip and a rigid backing. Intriguing, a design that would allow the wielder to add more weight to their swings, dominating the traditional methods. The weight would force their lightsabers to spin out of their hands on impact, intelligent… dangerous.

An entirely new order of force users that unlike the Jedi, did not practice the hypocrisy of pacifism and actively developed to fight wars alongside troops. Integrated into the Command structure as well if the clip with the force user being ordered to defend an area by a non-user was correct.

Unlike the Sith in that they were not in hiding in the dark, nor did they exist in Palpatine's knowledge as Sidious. The fact that they would act so brazenly was not her tick in the box that said, "not Sith".

Frustrating.

It was not just the Hutts either, all of the major crime Cartels had their leadership crushed by the same figures. Their proliferation no doubt a means to gain control of the Outer Rim. For Palpatine, that was troubling indeed as he considered the ramifications that a united Outer Rim would have on his plans. A third faction that could destabilize everything, something that was looking to be increasingly likely as Dooku and his links to the Separatists had been severed. Leaving him with only the Republic as his card, a hand that had looked like a win, now crippled.

He clenched his fist and tried very hard not to call in someone so he could torture them for relief.

For the Emperor!

As the figure held up the bleeding stump that was Jabba the Hutt's head, Palpatine considered another loss. That when he crushed all resistance to a pulp, he would need to pick a name other than Emperor Palpatine.

The new factors had stolen that from him as well.

It was a Bar on Coruscant.

It was a place where people could come and get drunk. It wasn't a fancy bar where you could go and get fancy cocktails using ingredients mined from the Outer Rim and washed in the sweat of countless slaves, refined for a billion years in a dark, dank basement somewhere before being shipped to the trendiest clubs on the upper levels.

No, this was a bar located deep within Coruscant, all the way on the 8th floor, all the way underneath the surface where sunlight would never reach. The only way to actually reach the bar would be to drop down on the 987th highway of the 78th sector to the 172th landing on the 79th sector side. From there it would be a 50-minute walk, there being no lanes wide enough for vehicles this deep into Coruscant.

They would walk down the twisting labyrinths that made up the underlevels of the Hiveworld that was Coruscant. Down corridors that stretched seemingly forever, down dank, and dark enclosures containing malignant entities that likely bayed for the blood of the new. Twisting and turning until none but the natural born would be able to tell their heading relative to where they had entered. It would continue further, descending further, each step bringing them further in until they would need a guide to take them out again.

Each step guarded from the entities that skulked in the shadows. Their malignant gazes reflected in the light, only their eyes being visible in some cases, shadows twisting about under the darkness. It was here that that archeologists sometimes descended, to see and explore what was built millennia ago. Each few hundred meters of Coruscant being another age in historical memory. Architecture that was considered old ages ago were present, others still that marked the presence of age-old Sith empires, and even older Jedi warrior nations, all hidden underneath the surface of Coruscant.

Hidden away from the Highways, from the streets, only accessible on foot. Expeditions deep into a seething underworld that demanded a tribute to all who came, it may be something as minor as a stubbed toe, or as serious as an entire exhibition, leaving only the most excitable intern alive. Even the most powerful of Jedi or Sith were wary down here, many had been powerful enough to sunder stars, only to never return from their pilgrimage below.

It is not even accessible through the infamous portals, giant tunnels for starships and the like, tunnels covered with the filth and grime that could only accumulate through thousands of years. Coating the insides and forming its own civilization, some of it even intelligent enough to crowd around the mouths of the waste chutes, themselves dumping the waste of billions of individuals down these narrow holes, chomping away and receiving sustenance. In a few million more years it might yet achieve sentience.

Down below, churning away in long forgotten seas were the enormous, starship-sized blades attached to yet larger and more imposing turbines, generating artificial currents by which the cultivated bacteria could disperse. The newly added waste being sublimated into the old, the bacteria decomposing it and forging it into gases to be burnt for fuel. What solids remained would be gathered and sent to worlds beyond as feed and compost for their farms, the cycle of galactic life. Yet it never overflows, large rents in the floor allow the ocean to flood the levels below, creating vast seas and lakes on the lower levels. Oceans where entire ecosystems have evolved, their forms ghastly and nightmarish as they prowl the oceans of waste for prey.

Deep within this hellscape is a bar. The same bar described as above. It is at the end of a corridor, where the dripping fluids distilled from the fractured pipes of the recycling plants, themselves ancient in age, pooled on the floor. It was here that multiple different passageways met, an area of respite and peace in the land of lawlessness and evil.

It is known as "the bar" to those in the know. An area for expeditions to rest for a moment before they moved on out the other side from which they entered. Unlike the entry corridor, the exit was a dank place covered with malignant green mosses. It being so close to the aged and cracked reactors that supplied Coruscant with energy and the enormous, crusted over water recycling plants, that an entire ecosystem survived.

It was here that both biologists seeking to study life inside hive worlds, its special configuration of blasted heat, abundant water, fertilizer and lack of predators has seen a… naive and almost innocent ecosystem emerge. One untainted by the outside world. The bar protected that world, warding off those that would seek to destroy it. Only those guided here were allowed to enter and the guides, their faces hidden beneath the masks of an ancient civilization were very discerning when it came to their guests.

They looked like children, their diminutive forms belaying their wizened and leathery skin beneath their rags. Frightening strength and shocking speed dispatched those that were unworthy, their disappearances attributed to yet another missing persons in the labyrinthine underworld. They were from a race, all chosen to protect the new one as it emerged, their lives offered up to their terrible and omniscient god. They served the bar to protect their god and to seek out the divine "Arts" by which they of the second door might return with. Each relic feeding their ravenous god.

They led their guests to the bar, a warm and inviting place. Its bartop was of synthetic wood, golden brown in colour and exuding what could only be considered comfort. The walls were of a deeper mahogany colour, again of synthetic wood but stretched around the interior in an unbroken pattern, as if to embrace the individual in warmth. It was somewhere relaxing, to take a break from the dark and dank underworld and to take a breather.

A second exit was allowed for archeologists, that one led to uninhabited chambers far below the inhabitable levels of the city. Levels long forgotten in the annals of time, levels where in ages long past, mighty wars were waged across their surfaces. They had seen civilizations rise and fall, each adding yet more layers to the every expanding city that is Coruscant, its status as a planet diminishing over time, supplanted by its status as a city.

Back then it was still the core of the galaxy, where the trade of goods from the Outer Rim was met with the manufactured products of the Core worlds. Where the politicking took place with words, assassinations, defamations and occasionally open warfare. It was down on those levels that there would hopefully be ancient records for the archeologists to parse through, for them to delve into and uncover the truth of the ancient civilizations that predated them. So ancient that even their descendents had forgotten that they had ever existed.

So many subservient races were themselves the dominant ones in the cycle of entropy that saw theocracies, republics, democracies, autocracies, dictatorships and so many more civilizations rise and fall. Their passage etched upon the surfaces of the city layers below the very feet of their descendants, forgotten by all. For no matter how glorious it may be, the sands of time will slowly erode away memory until there is nothing left for anyone to find.

It is here that the archeologists delve, their visages, sculpted and heroic. Their hands on the blasters at their side and the rope snug about their waists. These are great unknowns that they are delving into, lands that had never been touched for tens of thousands of years, of structures that may be held together by nothing but the carcasses of insidious insects as they ate away at the very structure itself.

Tall buildings of unknown design are signs of prosperity, of the fact that perhaps an ancient of power dwelled within the edifice, living out a life, uncaring or unknowing that their home would be raided millennia later. The archeologists digging away, scraping, cataloguing and dictating notes as they did so, hands furtively scrabbling for scraps that might indicate what or who resided within, so that they might add it to their lengthy notes.

In many the staircases and elevators no longer function and the ropes come in handy, the skilled archeologists who resemble swashbuckling pirates of an age long past, the more recent iterations of such no longer possessing such skillful application of swash and buckle, would with great skill and dexterity, throw the ropes upon what ledges and hooks that they might find. If they could not find any then they would break out their own grapples, a recourse only chosen in the most dire of circumstance, the grapple itself capable of damaging the very artifacts they were attempting to recover.

But the gamble was understandably worth it for these rogues, where they might damage one artifact, they might yet stumble across a more worthy treasure. Their arms straining as they dragged themselves up the interior of the structure, all the better to see each individual layer of each building on their way upwards. It would not do to skip one because there was not a window designed on that particular floor, a punishment perhaps for crimes unknown.

The climb itself would be up the abandoned elevator shafts, a precut passage already thoughtfully and carefully created by the architects of the bygone era. On the climb up they might yet find a reliquary of treasure, of notebooks detailing the daily lives of the ancient, their artifacts, their toys and even rarer still their holocrons, preserved and ready for a team to find and make known.

A single artifact could fetch enough of a price to allow the entire team to retire in prosperity to a garden world, never again having to crawl through kilometers of feces and refuse thrown upon them from above. Their lives being one of relaxation and luxury, their every whim catered to.

Yet they could not be overconfident and self-assured for hubris is a slow and insidious killer. It may even be a swift and painless one. The reliquary might yet be protected by defence systems of eons past, their systems often corroded and rendered ineffectual, their designers not fathoming the ages that passed before it was actually called upon to defend its charges. Other times, the times that all archeologists dreaded and recalled with distressing ease, were the times when the defence systems were still functional, their ancient cores calling for the deaths of trespassers.

It was here that the archeologists would defend themselves, their blaster blazing as they cut down security droids, their boots slamming into the ground as they launched themselves away from booby traps, their hands bruised as they battered at the attackers. Many times there was no warning, the external announcer array having fallen apart as the time passed, its internal systems destroyed by time itself or the insects which made its innards their home.

For some expeditions their journey ended here, wiped out by the defences, defences awaiting a shutdown code that would never come. Defences that would wait for all eternity until the next group of adventurers came delving into the depths of Coruscant for the riches told about only in the most whispered and secret of conversations.

For others they emerged alive, missing a member or 10 perhaps but alive, whether, through escape or victory, they emerged alive. Sometimes they would find treasure, the reliquary holding all that it promised and more, other times it was nothing but decayed dust, their lives sacrificed for nothing. Many gave up at this yet some continued, the promise of riches and a life of luxury proving to be far too appealing to give up and return empty handed.

And so they make camp and set watch. The levels below floor 1 may be forgotten but that does not mean they are uninhabited. Monsters may attack, left there from experiments, armies or simple mutations from various sources of radiation or chemical modification, their numbers without counting, their ferocity assured. Other times it may be the long lost tribes of a dead civilization, living a life of cargo worship as they seek to return to the Gods of eons long past, the presence of the team being an affront to their very being. More rarer still are the attacks by other teams, their sight catching a glimpse of treasure or they had been lost for so long that reason had deserted them, their desire for food and water overriding any civilized thoughts they may have had.

Regardless, the camp must be prepared to defend itself, to not do so would be to invite death and destruction into their midst. The mere sight of blasters being enough to scare some of the more timid foes away.

Teams delve into the depths and many delve as deep as they can, seeking the fabled Negative 0 floor, where the very first civilization laid down its foundations and created the city planet of Coruscant. It is here, prophesied by ancient scholars that the secrets of all life in the galaxy are hidden, in a vast tomb network known simply as the "Lucas Forges" that the truth of the galaxy will be revealed. The greatest treasure of them all and the goal of many a dream.

To get there they have journeyed across vast oceans, some as pure as the rain from garden worlds and others as squalid as that of the worst death world. Deserts formed from the intense radiation of shattered reactors, the heat generating winds to scour entire levels to dust. Jungles that were vast and filled with beings, all carnivorous in nature and craving of the blood. Wonders that the majority of the galaxy would never see or even know existed filled the levels below. All of them on the way to the "Lucas Forges", all of them blocking the way to the "Lucas Forges". The treasure that could be found on these mystical levels could set them and their lineage for all time in terms of wealth, but it mattered not to the prestige of finding the fabled Forges themselves, Negative 0. For those that journeyed so deep it was no longer a matter of money, there was plenty to be made above, no... it was a matter of determination and pride.

There were many other bars of course, all of them hosting the same ancient guides, bound by dark promises long forgotten. All of them protecting the passages that delved deep into the lower levels of Coruscant. One day the "Arts" would be brought back from the "Lucas Forge" and their dark god would rise once again. Until that day they waited and they served, ever vigilant for a sign of their idol, a treasure of immense power.

The Bartenders were they who served the Bartop. They who were bound just as the diminutive ones were bound. Serving until the dark god could rise once again. Their terrible fates bound by the ancient treatise of "Customer Satisfaction".

Still they could get bored and so they accessed the one link to the outside world that they had.

"Good Morning Coruscant, this is Amalia Richies of Coruscant Daily, bringing to you only the freshest news!"

After Activation 1119 - Origin Universe

After Insertion 1080 - Cultivation Universe

Millennium 093-32M - 40k Universe

Clone Wars 22 BBY - Star Wars Universe

The Droids had changed somehow, it wasn't hard to reach this conclusion as CA-8827 ducked down. The Clone Trooper going by the name of Eight keeping his head from being blasted off by a droid. Something had changed and the droids had suddenly become much more effective, their fire accurate and their formations using things like cover and suppressing fire effectively. In short they were just as effective as the clones were and it was terrifying.

Eight was on the receiving end of a renewed offensive by the droids and they were hammering their way through the defences. Their Jedi generals were trying to find a counter but it just wasn't working. They had the same ability as the clones but there were significantly more of them in the field. No matter how good the tactics were, they just couldn't overcome the numerical differences.

Right now they were defending on a plain outside of the forest in an attempt to stave off yet another attack. Why didn't we try and defend inside the treeline where's there's cover. The droids coming in on their AAT tanks and troop transports. Their AT-TEs were holding them back but they were getting whittled down one after the other. The glass canopies of the pilot being vulnerable to massed blaster fire. The General was at the front deflecting blaster bolts with his lightsaber why isn't he leading us properly instead of showing off while a clone squad provided covering fire from behind.

Their own blasters had the range to out down the droids sure but they were having trouble aiming. The amount of fire coming their way, all of it accurate and about head height made it a daunting task to return fire. The wrecks of the AT-TEs that littered the field having saved their lives many times over. The idiot ordered a frontal assault against a superior force. The clones managing to use them as cover in what would otherwise be a killing field. Hundreds of them died anyway, the massed fire from tens of thousands of droids punching through their armour. Many more than that in number were wounded, their bodies left in the open to groan or packed to the rear in a makeshift medical facility. It being too dangerous to retrieve the ones left, while those being treated were having to make do with primitive medicines, them having run out of Bacta 3 battles ago.

Eight popped his head over and lugged his DC-15A being too long and difficult to maneuver well in the wreckage of a downed AT-TE. What used to be the rear hatch was now his firing port, the keeled over tank serving in death. He aimed down the sight and gave a quick burst of 5 shots on full power in the direction of the droids before ducking back behind the bulkhead. The retaliation of blaster bolts from their E-5s somehow having gotten more accurate. These bolts splashed on the insides of the tank, dousing the area he was in hot plasma.

"Damn clankers, when did they get good?" He cursed as he took the risk to pop out again. He had gotten a good idea of where the lead elements of the assault force were and he wanted to put a few holes in them. The E-5s would only get more accurate the closer they got and he had brothers who were counting on him to hold them off. The fire was already accurate enough that it bracketed the hatch, the next few were going to zero in further. Still he was a clone and he was going to do his duty. Programmed to obey stupid idiots by stupid idiots.

The first 8 droids crossing the field were imprinted on his minds-eye as he simulated a combat scenario before popping out again. His fingers ready to squeeze the trigger as he swept across in a predetermined pattern. Something they taught you in clone academy but they never used, the droids never having warranted such tactics in the past. Could have used it anyway, too many lost.

Pew Pew Pew Pew Pew Pew Pew Pew

The blaster let loose and Eight dropped down again, none too soon either as his Blaster was cut in half. The end he was holding suddenly becoming lighter as the center turned to slag, the other half bending before melting off.

Eight followed the drills programmed into him and proceeded to snap the magazine open and pull out the power cell before throwing the rifle out the hatch. Didn't want the damn thing exploding and knocking loose the AT-TE. He shook his head slightly and crawled back down into the main storage bay of the tank, scrounging around for another rifle. A clone without his weapon was nothing but a target his instructors had said. Didn't factor in clones would learn to hide.

There was ample light fortunately. Not so much for the ones who had been inside from the looks of it. The flank had been hit by something big, tearing out a large gash in the tank and exposing it to the sun, the light streaming in to illuminate the broken corpses splayed about the bottom. The entire tank had been flipped on its side, the poor clones who hadn't died from the explosion likely dying from their bodies being smashed about.

There was nothing he could do about it, so many dead for so little gain. He moved through the corpses, mindful that the droids were going to keep advancing and he didn't have that much time. Eight overturned the bodies and saw what looked to be rifles but they were bent and cracked from the stresses placed on them. He growled in frustration as he kept searching. Their spares were being used up at an alarming rate, the convoys destroyed and the general ordering them to leave behind their supply trains after the second attack. Idiot doesn't understand the basics of war.

There! A weapons locker, hopefully it would have something inside. He made his way over, stepping on the bodies of the dead to do so, his eyes repentant. The locker was thankfully undamaged and his hand over the pad was enough to open it, the unassuming box containing 20 more Blaster rifles, secured safely with clamps.

Eight breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed them all, cradling them in his arms. His brothers could use these he was sure. He would be back for the ammunition when he had the chance.

As he made his way outside of the destroyed AT-TE, he spotted a few of his fellow clones using the exterior as hard cover.

"Hey boys, look alive, where's the armoury, need to dump these off." He said, head gesturing to the rifles in his arms.

"You just came out of the tank?" Asked the sergeant, continuing at his nod, "Ok, it's at the center. You'll find the captain there, keep your head low. They've got fighters strafing us. Need any help?"

"Yes sergeant, we got extra ammo inside, I'll leave these with you and I'll go grab them, quicker."

The Sergeant nodded and tapped one of the clones on the shoulder, jerking his thumb at Eight. The clone in turn shouted out an affirmative and moved to grab the Blaster Rifles, freeing Eight's hands. The sergeant understood what kind of situation they were in with ammunition and weapons. Smarter than the General then.

He turned around and got back into the AT-TE, heading over the locker. He was jogging, as much as one could jog inside an overturned tank, but it was a reasonable pace. He needed to get in and out as soon as possible so he could get back into the fight. He made his way back over the to the bay and stared at the dead clones again. No commemorations for the dead, disposable. Before making his way to the locker and grabbing the ammunition boxes, there were 8 of them but he could clip them to his belt. Unwieldy but it would have to do.

He got out of the AT-TE and at a gesture to follow, got to following the clone with the rifles.

"Fucking clanks using air support now, when did they get so smart?" Asked the clone, awkwardly shifting the bundled mass of alloy and plasma.

"Don't know, more accurate with their fire too." He replied.

"Well fuck me, there's barely enough of us to handle the droids as they were, if they're getting smarter…"

"Don't talk like that clone, we have a job to do and we'll do it." He rebuked. Forgotten as soon as it is over, nobody wants to remember the sacrifices.

Eight firmly shut out the traitorous thoughts and returned to his current job. Getting these ammo boxes to the armoury without dying. Something that became much harder when the strafing runs by the Separatist aircraft began to occur.

There were clones on lookout duty, crouching low and angling their heads to look at the sky. Whenever a fighter was en route they would shout out the heading and the likely targets, prompting those around them to dive to the ground. That 50 meters to the armoury began to look like 500 as Eight kept having to dive for cover every few seconds. The fighters seemingly having complete control of the sky.

"Don't we have any anti-aircraft guns?" asked the clone with the rifles.

"Command didn't see fit to issue us with any." Eight replied. Command didn't see fit to issue us with many things. He shook his head and got up again after the seemingly Nth time they had gone to ground. His hips were going to feel this tomorrow.

Assuming there was a tomorrow.

Eight shook his head again and continued his little run. Finally making it to the Armoury where it looked like some clones had jury-rigged a few Blaster Rifles together. The things were stuck on sticks that supported 4 of them slaved to a single fire control. Makeshift AA weapons if the postures of the clones manning them gave anything away.

He shook his head and dropped the ammo boxes off at the indicated dump before grabbing another rifle from the pile next to it. He got himself ready to get back into the fight when the next words from the captain stopped him.

"The General just died, the clanks lured him into the open and dropped plasma on him." He said, the Captain's voice coming through their helmet's speakers. "I'm assuming command, all clones are to abandon their vehicles and move to the forest. Drop by the command post and grab some rifles and ammunition and assist the wounded, we're going to be staying a while gentlemen. I'll see you at rendezvous point aleph." He finished, their comms going silent.

There was a moment of indecision before the entire regiment… what was left of it began to pull back. A few of them stayed to lay down some fire as the rest moved back, the stream of their white armour drowning out the drab yellow of the field. They grabbed what they could and made their way over to the forest, not 50 meters away. Idiot general, Jedi. Good riddance.

Eight shook his head as he shouldered his rifle and grabbed a few of the ammo boxes. Probably the same ones he had just dropped off. He shook his head at the thought and made his way to the forest. The other clones were going to need covering fire as they made their way into the forest. The jury-rigged quad-blasters were shooting away at the aircraft but they couldn't do very much other than annoy them. The strafing runs taking large bites out of the clones now that they were bunched up. Didn't learn how to properly retreat. Always assuming victory leads to defeat. Eight could only stare at the devastation that the droids were causing. Their aircraft tearing through the clones and their ground units were encroaching on their position. It would only be a few more minutes and they were all going to die.

Luckily the general had died early enough that they could pull out the majority of those left.

Eight shook his head again as he made his way into the forest, those already there pouring out blaster bolts at the droids. The cover of the trees and shrubbery helping them immensely in the survivability stakes.

After Activation 1119 - Origin Universe

After Insertion 1080 - Cultivation Universe

Millennium 093-32M - 40k Universe

Clone Wars 22 BBY - Star Wars Universe

Droid Ground Vehicles following the Separatist reformation.

It had been a simple enough task really. The AAT tank had so much wasted space when it was piloted by droids, to begin with. Just remove the creature comforts and the droids and make it a pure AI tank with a gun, engine and hover system. That basic idea changed everything as it allowed the tank to truly become a tank instead of a glorified target. Something with a low profile, sitting squat on the ground with its curved hull assisting in the dissipation of sensors.

The new Light Tank Model 2 or rather LT2, had a single powerful gun, upgraded from its infantry support variant and capable of punching through an AT-TE's frontal armour in a single strike. It ran nearly a half a length longer than the previous gun and sat on a turret located at the rear of the tank. The gun didn't extend past the front of the now elongated tank, creating a minimized side profile that barely was a meter high. The new tank was now a meter tall all around with a length of 6 meters and a width of 3.

In short, it was a dedicated tank anti-armour vehicle with a massive gun, designed to find and destroy tanks and other ground vehicles. It had an anti-personnel blaster system located on the coaxial position of the main gun, more for warding off assault than anything else. Designed to hunt vehicles, can also kill infantry. Less an infantry support vehicle and more of a Tank Destroyer than anything else. Its frontal armour was sloped enough that the turret was allowed a depression angle of nearly 20 degrees, allowing it to pop out behind cover and only expose a tiny fraction of its hull. Shoot and scoot with extreme prejudice with the clones unable to retaliate according to the simulations.

Something that would allow them complete domination of the vehicle realm, allowing their now enlarged armies to advance without fear of being suppressed by the previously dominant vehicles. Not that it was truly necessary, the AT-TE was a walking mass of weak points and their wheeled vehicles lacked the heavy firepower necessary to effectively combat the droids. It did make it easier, however, something that would increase efficiency by several times. With no armoured support, the clones would be defenceless against their own armour.

The infantry support role of the AAT was taken by the new Medium Infantry Support Model 3. No longer was it something that was… poorly designed with a tall but thin turret stack that provided little to no cover for those behind. The MIS3 now was of a much more standard rectangle designed to be capable of carrying into combat 20 droids into combat and providing for them the fire support needed in their combat operations. Standing at 2 meters in height with a sloped frontal glacis, it had a sponson mounted blaster machine-gun on the front and a heavier variant on a turret on the roof, or if necessary a rocket launcher/grenade launcher depending on the situation...

Designed to carry into combat its complement of droids, deploying them into combat and then supporting the advance with fire support and the bulk of its armour. Anything that wanted to break through was forced to contend with a serious amount of armour that made a mockery of the previous AAT, at least several times it in width and durability. Capable of standing up to the attacks of the particle accelerated AT-TE main cannon. They were also pressurized with life-support for the transport of prisoners, serving as makeshift prisons. Something that was important as the ships no longer had any life support in the first place except for very small areas.

The MIS3 would be able to drive/hover straight through blaster fire and deliver its droids as close as possible to the enemy lines or even behind the lines. With their toughened hulls they would be able to weather anything except the most focused of fire and deliver its cargo directly into the clone lines, smashing apart their defensive positions. The clones with their inflexibility and their pre-programmed extreme loyalty would fall apart under the armoured assaults, their Jedi generals with their inability to understand basic war strategy would lead to their annihilation. Their limitations being obvious when they considered attack and retreat the most powerful words in their vocabulary, unable to display anything of reasonable complexity unless it was to demonstrate their insanity. General Skywalker being a prime example of that, unorthodox tactics that displayed his luck more than anything else. Shattering the cohesion of their troops with armour and infantry will go very far in destroying the clone armies, their generals focused on displaying their lightsaber skill than their leadership.

Each MIS3 had charging points for the droids in each of their seats, a way to ensure that even in the event of an Ion strike, they would be able to continue functioning. Even in the event that the clones got desperate they would be unable to stop the droids. Evil cackling laughter rang out at the sound of that. Even lightsabers would be hard pressed to punch through the MIS3 armour, the time spent on destroying one was enough for 10 to bypass the hapless general.

For a tank that would be able to support the infantry with firepower to destroy medium vehicles and blasters for infantry clearance, the Medium Tank Model 7 was introduced. Its design being a squatter and slightly broader version of the AAT. While it mounted the same gun as the AAT but on a much-improved model. The gun, however… still went twat twat twat when it fired. There wasn't much they could do about that. Still, it did the job, a tank that could destroy most vehicles the droids were sent against while being big enough to provide mobile cover for the very same droids. Some more additions, especially regarding the extra blasters on sponsons to the side instead of the strange wings gave it a reduced profile. No point painting a large target on the body for the clones to shoot at.

Other designs for the ground armies were revised or invented as need for them grew. Artillery vehicles that were not the size of habitation blocks being one of them. A smaller "mortar" variant using solid ammunition was commissioned and put into production, the Light Infantry Support Model 23 or LIS23. A squat design that was simply a wide tube on a hover system that could land and anchor itself, the LIS23 could hurl shells of varying size up to 40 kilometers away. It used the same chassis as the LT2, making repair and support work an extremely easy task.

Its presence on the field was invaluable, the explosives it rained from the sky being able to crack clone defensive positions before an attack was launched. Saving time and resources that would have been used otherwise in rebuilding and recovering destroyed drones. The shells had been designed with a spiral shape so that when it came down, a loud screeching sound could be heard. The clones learning to fear the sound and having traumatic shocks when something similar occurred outside the combat zone. An effective weapon against both the material and the morale of the clone armies. Indeed many a Jedi would be destroyed, their presence extremely easy to spot with regards to their non-standard clothing and glowing light sticks.

A new transport vehicle was commissioned as well, something that would not scream "shoot me, shoot me" due to its size and bulk. The new vehicle instead was an extended version of the MIS3 with various entrance ports on the sides of the vehicle. No longer would they be shipping droids into the battlefield in a deactivated state, that was the road that led to ideas like the AAT tank. Each of these new troops transports designated Heavy Infantry Support Model 2 or HIS2 served to bring droids into the battlefield where they would disembark and load into MIS3s for their actual combat duties. Each HIS2 was twice the height of an MIS3 and roughly 3 times as long, capable of transporting roughly 150 droids. While it did have infantry support capabilities, it was also vulnerable due to its size and only served to carry out rear-line activities. Its infantry compartments being modular and able to be converted to cargo holds, something that was especially appreciated by the military. Each could be linked together to form a defensive ring for a command staff to occupy or a dump for ammunition and replacement parts.

The recent battles saw the revision of the current anti-aircraft and anti-tank emplacements. The DSD1, J-1 and IG-227 designs simply unfeasible. While the new LT2 model and the LIS23 could replace some of the vehicles, a new one had to be designed to fulfil the anti-aircraft role. The current weapon emplacements firing at an abysmal 80 shots a minute. Not nearly enough for the amount of air units that the clone armies could field. While they did have the ability to destroy clone vehicles in a single strike, the low firing speed, and low projectile speed saw their effectiveness heavily reduced unless massed in extreme numbers.

The new design was required to be mobile and have the ability to lay down enough fire to saturate the sky through virtual attrition. Any attacking craft would have to brave a literal screen of blaster fire in order to make their landings or attack runs. Only the bravest or most stupid of pilots would be willing to fly through a zone that had one of these present, ready and willing to kill, the clones being both. It would be a highly visible reminder to avoid the area for the clone airforce. A secondary goal was to be able to use the vehicle in tertiary roles such as infantry support when not being used in an air-denial role.

The resulting model was one that used the LT2 chassis and mounted a quad-linfast-firingring blaster system. While each wasn't powerful enough to destroy an LAATwith a single strike like the IG-227 was, the Light Infantry Support Model 50 did have enough firepower to destroy one with the sheer amount of fire it could put out. The four barrels firing in sequence could put out a staggering 2000 bolts per minute. The rate of fire being so ridiculous that it needed a watercooling system to ensure the barrels didn't melt with sustained fire. The quite literal wall of laser fire would be able to ward off any attacks with disgusting ease. While one shot wasn't enough to put down an LAAT, 100 would be able to find a weakpoint and disable it easily enough. The advanced tracking systems ensuring that nothing would be able to escape, the ability to link with other LIS50s allowed it to completely dominate airspace around it. When not in an air-denial role the LIS50 was also capable of acting in a ground attack role, its devastating firepower able to tear through infantry formations and their armoured support. While the armour of the clone forces would be able to defend against a single bolt like that of the LAATs, they could not defend against several thousand of them.

All the ground vehicles had their crews removed and replaced with AI systems, a needless use of space that could have been used for more armour of ammunition. It also reduced the profiles of the vehicles, especially the tanks as they no longer needed crew compartments to begin with. The AI had its algorithms changed in order to be more effective and to work better with the droids themselves. Commander droids being able to interface directly with a tank with their communication protocols, capable of calling in fire support wherever they needed it.

For the droids in urban or built up areas alternative sources of fire support had to be devised, their rigidity making them extremely unsuited to the rigours of urban combat. Indeed, flanking attacks would be able to destroy the B1 Battle Droids before they could even turn around. To solve this issue the doctrine of complete fire superiority was implemented. The droids would advance slowly but do so with fire support in both the infantry and tactical levels. Heavy Blaster Machine Guns were issued and special droid teams were programmed to fire them, infantry scale mortars being issued as well. The Droid infantry would be able to take on half their number in a head on engagement should they have time to establish themselves, a large improvement over the 10 to 1 odds earlier in the war.