AN: So here I am trying to write something Stellaris-related that isn't a crossover of some sort lmao


"Every star empire - from the Fallen Empires to the ones who just discovered FTL - have skeletons in their closets. How damning those skeletons are varies greatly." - Lead Imperial Intelligence Officer [REDACTED] Von Grace


Bunker SD-2244 "Minos," the Rocky Mountains, United American Federation, 10/20/2087

Three weeks. That's how long Lieutenant Alan O'Conner has been withstanding the bombardment from Imperial forces. For three agonizing weeks, the Asiatic Sovereign Technocracy has laid siege to the last bastion that the former United States had before Imperial troops breached into continental North America. Canada was buckling heavily under the pressure of the Technocracy's relentless assault against the western portion of the continent. The Rockies were a natural barrier against their advances, but judging by the sheer amount of missiles and artillery shells being fired on them, it didn't seem to bother them.

Alan sometimes thought they were trying to level the entire mountain range with the amount of explosions he heard throughout his posting.

The rest of his forces weren't faring much better, as the reserve infantry divisions were depleted by 46%, their armored divisions were depleted by 61%, and the air forces deployed to the area were all but gone. What troops remained were fighting bravely, but the writing was on the wall - the Rockies Bastion was on its last legs.

The hiss of a door sliding open knocked Alan out of his thoughts. Turning, he saw his second in command, Lieutenant Smith walking in, a similarly tired expression on her face. The two didn't salute each other, the pair had long since abandoned formalities during the siege. He and Smith were part of the same class at their academy, when both of them were drafted during the beginning of the war and were primarily stationed on the North American continent, the two of them rarely being stationed at one place for longer than a couple of weeks. Eventually, however, as the frontline slowly crept closer to the continent, the pair got assigned to the Rocky Mountain Defensive Perimeter with Alan operating and leading the artillery units, most of which were likely destroyed, and Smith handled the troop portion of the bunker system, with Minos acting as the nerve center for both operations.

Minos itself was an advanced place, with multiple monitors showing various feeds, each showing their struggle against the encroaching black and red tide. A holographic table in the center of the room projected a 3d image of the entire mountain range, pulsing orange circles depicting impacts from shells and missiles. Red lines indicated Imperial troop movements while dark blue lines depicted the troops of the Coalition of Free Territories as they tried to scale the mountains, pulsing orange circles appearing throughout the lines.

"Report," Alan said in a tired voice.

Smith sighed, her features a mixture of tiredness and resignation. "You want the bad news or the worse news?"

"Surprise me."

"The bad news is that Forts Alpha and Beta have been entirely overrun, and our reinforcements have been wiped out by a landslide and an ambush."

"...and the worse news?"

"Coalition forces have intercepted and engaged an imperial warship off the coast of Newfoundland, and they've detected numerous other imperial naval assets," Smith said with a hollow look in her eyes. "The Technocracy is crossing the Atlantic. If they manage to land forces on the eastern coast..."

Alan didn't reply, his whole body tense with stress. He knew full well that a two-pronged invasion of the North American continent would be a disaster of unprecedented proportions to the already pressured Coalition. He also had long since dismissed the so-called "contingencies" that command had made, the most notable ones being Project Artemis, Archangel, and Apollo. Out of these, Project Artemis was the most dismal failure, claiming to be able to shoot down any Technocracy missile with a tungsten slug. Said project was predicted to only have an 18% chance to intercept imperial missiles, but the warnings from MIT scientists were dismissed as "demoralizing propaganda." Predictably, the Artemis defense systems were all but useless as Technocracy missiles impacted as deep as Kansas City. Imperial propagandists were quick to jump on this, celebrating the fact that "not even a goddess of the hunt could stop their fury." Project Archangel was a planned grid of orbital lasers that could strike anywhere and anytime with the power to melt flesh from bone and evaporate bodies of water. It would've been the Coalition's trump card - if only the Technocracy hadn't captured the testing site in Spain after the nation surrendered.

Finally, there was Project Apollo - the most mysterious out of the three "contingencies," mostly due to commands' utter lack of clues as to what it is. From hearsay and whispers in dim corridors, Apollo was a so-called "metaphysical spatial generator," whatever that meant. All that was known for certain was that it needed a metric fuckton of power, so much so that the Coalition had dedicated six nuclear power plants solely to power whatever Apollo was. The project was causing other... weird occurrences, mostly minor ones like items suddenly teleporting from someone's hand onto a nearby surface, but there were a couple of instances of doppelgangers appearing out of nowhere that were swiftly terminated on sight. There were even rumors of Apollo being some sort of portal to another universe, but few believed them. The one thing everyone knew was that Apollo was located somewhere in Virginia, but no one knew exactly where it was.

Another round of explosions rocked the bunker, this time causing the monitors to flicker and nearly knocking the two off of their feet.

"Damn it, where are they shooting us from?" Alan grumbled as he steadied himself. "They can't be that far if their shots are this accurate, right? Our remaining artillery must be able to take them out."

"...They're firing at us from offshore," Smith replied in a hollow voice.

"...What do you mean 'firing at us from offshore?'"

The other lieutenant then rushed to the table before making it display a 3d image of an imperial warship with a massive barrel attached to the rear that was angled towards the shore and the Rockies. The ship itself was the size of two Coalition cruisers and the artillery barrel looked like it was retractable and could be stored when not in use. Smith then swiped at the image, moving a display of the artillery piece that was attached to the ship.

"This is what I mean," Smith began, her tone ragged. "The Technocracy's damn cannons have an effective range of over 1500 miles, which would be bad enough if they were limited to land. But no, the fuckers have somehow managed to attach them on their trains, their ships, and even their damn submarines!"

As if to emphasize her point, another round of explosions rocked the bunker, this time much stronger than before. The entire structure shook, throwing poor staffers, soldiers, and the two officers to the ground as more explosions sounded in the distance.

"They... they can't have that many ships, right?" Alan asked as he stood himself up once more, this time with a visible gash on his forehead. "I mean, with the sheer size of the cannons, they can't possibly field that many, right?"

Smith shook her head. "There's around sixty imperial artillery vessels off of the western coast, all of them firing shells the size of a sedan at us, and that's not counting all of their landing ships and their swarms of missiles that they're firing at us."

"Can't we simply go sink them?" Alan asked, out of sheer desperation more than anything.

"You make it sound so easy," the other lieutenant said with an annoyed sigh. "The Coalition's air forces can barely maintain aerial superiority across the continent, much less attack their artillery ships, and our Pacific fleets were all but destroyed in the Battle of the South Asiatic Sea and the Brawl of the Hawaiian Islands. The rest of the Coalition's naval forces are trying - and failing I might add - to prevent the Technocracy from crossing the Atlantic. What artillery pieces we have left either can't hit them or are destroyed."

Even more missiles and artillery shells impacted the bunker, causing everyone to either stumble or be thrown to the ground, including the two officers yet again. As they lay there on the ground, the door slid open once again to reveal two Coalition soldiers escorting a man in a dark suit with the logo of the Coalition, the symbol of the former UN, on their blue armband. Unlike the majority of the personnel present, he bore a dismissive look on his face as he surveyed the sorry scene in front of him like the entire siege was nothing more than a mild inconvenience. Papers were scattered on the ground, most likely from staff who tripped and fell due to the explosions that were rocking the bunker. His escorts were a similarly sorry mess, their uniforms were tattered and neither of the two wore a helmet. One had bandages wrapped around their head with blood staining the white fabric while the other bore a noticeable limp, evidently trying to maintain a professional demeanor. Yet another explosion rocked the complex, causing the lieutenants and even the man's guards to either stumble or fall to the ground while the man himself remained as still as a statue.

"Lieutenant O'Conner? Lieutenant Smith?" He asked the two officers in an eerily calm tone as they picked themselves off of the ground.

"Yes?" Alan groaned out.

"Yeah," Smith added as she stood. "And you are?"

"Call me Agent Delta," the man replied. "I need you both to come with me. It's an urgent matter from Coalition Command itself."

Alan looked at the agent in bewilderment before turning his attention to the monitors that showed imperial forces marching through the forests of the former state of Wyoming, their forms in their black armor with red detailing creating both a grim backdrop and a continuous reminder of their task of defending the continent from complete and total subjugation, one that this Agent Delta was trying to pull the pair away from.

Alan then looked back at Delta in a mixture of anger and confusion. "I don't know if you even bothered to look outside, Agent Delta, but we're kind of defending the North American continent here," he snapped, his voice incredulous. "We don't have the luxury of removing our attention for even a microsecond!"

"I understand that, Lieutenant O'Conner," Delta replied as his eyes wandered to the monitors and the holographic table, the red arrows slowly encroaching on the mountain range. "However, both of you must realize that this is a losing battle. The matter I am informing you about is of the utmost importance. It is something that can change everything, but I need both of you to come with me - right now."

Smith pressed one hand to the metal-plated wall and the other to a gash on her forehead as she stood herself up, a scowl on her face. "What could be more important than holding off the Technocracy here?" She asked. "They're taking more and more ground by the minute, two of our main forts have already been overwhelmed, our reinforcements have been wiped out, our infantry divisions are almost depleted, and our air support is all but nonexistent! Now you just waltz right in and want us to-"

"I wasn't giving you two a request, lieutenant," Delta interrupted her as his guards raised their rifles. "I've got my orders and now I'm giving you yours straight from Coalition Command. They've authorized me to restrain and take the both of you in if you do not comply."

Seeing as how neither of the two would accomplish much by continuing to talk back to the agent aside from being restrained and manhandled into an armored vehicle, Alan sighed. "Fine, we'll go with you. But if the line breaks-"

"It already is breaking, lieutenant," Delta said as he turned around and began to walk away. "Which is why it's even more important that the two of you follow me."

Without another word, the two lieutenants followed the agent and his escorts through the maze-like tunnels and corridors of the bunker system, the walls of which were plated with specialized alloys to further reinforce them from attacks. It stretched across the entirety of the Rocky Mountain range, supporting many similar command post areas like Minos, along with various artillery positions and other defensive structures, although the vast majority were likely destroyed by the Technocracy's continuous shelling. As they walked, Alan thought back as to why they were in this position in the first place; why he and Smith were battling imperial forces on the North American continent, why Delta was taking them somewhere, and why the world was tearing itself apart.

No one believed it at the time. The Coalition was desperately trying to influence the League of Independent Nations against the Technocracy's influence by meeting with their leaders about the dangerous influence of imperial rule, along with sending numerous care packages and bribes to the League to sway them to the Coalition's side. It didn't work, as late in the year 2052, the League announced that they would relinquish all governance to and formally integrate themselves into the Technocracy. This drove Coalition Command into a frenzy and, despite numerous protests against it, made a preemptive strike against them by landing forces on the African continent and capturing the cities of Nova Algeria, Oasis, and Golden Sands. The imperial forces stationed there were routed and forced to retreat into the Technocracy, who then gathered their forces and launched a counterattack, formally declaring war in that same year. Initially, the Coalition was doing well, pushing into the former nation of India along with entering Eurasia via the European continent, which made Command arrogant and complacent. It was not until the catastrophic Battle of the South Asiatic Sea that the Coalition knew exactly what they were dealing with.

While besieging multiple coastal cities with half of their fleets in the Pacific, the Technocracy deployed a massive EMP pulse that, while knocking out their electrical systems, also permanently disabled the systems of the besieging fleets, allowing for imperial naval assets that were shielded from the blast to launch a counterattack, wiping the fleets out. While the Coalition was reeling from its naval defeat, the Technocracy utilized new weapons, tactics, and advances in biological science to fight the Coalition on land. After a brutal defeat at Morocco and the destruction of their Pacific fleets under the nuclear sunrise at the Brawl of the Hawaiian Islands, the Coalition has been on the back foot as they desperately try to stop the imperial advance.

Deep in thought, Alan only noticed where he was going when he ran into the armored vehicle the group was going to ride in. It was a fairly standard thing, featuring heavy plating and a manned turret on the roof with twin machine guns. He doubted it would survive an impact with an imperial missile though.

"Get in," Delta ordered as he opened the rear doors for the two lieutenants and gestured for them to get in. "We're already behind schedule as it is."

"Wait, how do you plan to get out of here?" Alan asked. "The Technocracy's been raining down shells and missiles on us for three weeks, we won't make it more than a few meters before something hits us."

"There's a service tunnel built into the complex that stretches over three kilometers below ground," Delta said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Seeing the pair's confusion, he continued. "What, you'd think that we'd tell you everything about this place?"

As the two officers stepped into the rear of the transport followed by the two soldiers, the agent tapped his earpiece.

"CCU ID#22343 and CCU ID#22346 collected, departing Bunker SD-2244 at 2255 hours, transporting to the Bridge now," he said before moving to the passenger door and getting in. "Let's move."

A day later...

"So, where do you think we are?" Smith asked as she looked out the window, her head supported by her hand as her elbow propped against the vehicle wall. The transport had stopped for fuel on the side of a deserted highway with various abandoned vehicles littered about. In the panic of the Technocracy's incursion against the western coast, many fled from major population centers before the missile impacts and shelling began. "Oregon? Washington? Wyoming?"

"Who knows?" Alan replied, his tone bored. "All the trees, all the greenery... it all looks the same to me."

She let out a dry chuckle and shrugged. "Kinda hard to tell nowadays, huh? What with the whole 'imperialist Technocracy seeking to wipe us off the face of the Earth' thing looming over our heads." Her voice grew quiet.

"You know, I used to have friends in Portland, I went hiking in the Cascades on the weekends, and I went surfing off the coast of Hawaii once for vacation, before all... this," she said before scoffing. "Now Portland is a smoldering crater, the Cascades have been converted into a massive gun battery, and Hawaii..."

"Was sunk with nuclear fire," Alan finished. He didn't care much about what his partner was talking about, as he was glad that they weren't taken out by a missile or something else as they traveled. Looking out of the window, Alan noted various columns of smoke rising out of the forest, most likely from various destroyed artillery and fighter jets that got shot down. Looking closer to the area beside the transport, he saw Delta talking to another, similarly dressed individual with the same blue armband. Based on their body postures and expressions, Alan thought that they were concerned about something, although the bulletproof glass made their words hard to understand.

"...You think... ...work?" The other agent asked. "Command... ...too confident..."

"It has to... ...only hope..." Delta replied. "...rebuild..."

"But what if... ...doesn't...?"

"It will... ...save us all." Delta then left the other agent and headed back to the passenger door.

"Report," he ordered the driver as he got in, the transport shuddering as the engine roared to life before they continued down the highway.

"Command's getting impatient, everyone else is there already and refugees are swarming the entrances," the driver replied with a sigh as they moved the transport around obstacles with near-robotic precision. "Security is doing the best they can, but it's a warzone there."

"Tell the Terminal to clear a path, the last thing we need is a bunch of desperate civilians swarming us when arrive."

"Yes, sir."

Eventually, as they continued to travel the highway, Smith spoke up in a simultaneously bored and curious tone. "So where are we going?" She asked Delta. "You've been quiet for the whole journey and I have the feeling you aren't being truthful with us."

The agent was silent for a while as he deliberated telling the pair before sighing. "We're heading to Purcellville, or more specifically, outside of it," Delta explained. "The Coalition turned the town into a makeshift refugee center, housing all those who fled from the Technocracy's storm of terror."

The transport then drove uphill towards a collection of buildings as the sun began to set, a large crowd of desperate refugees gathering outside the perimeter that was trying to get inside while Coalition soldiers tried to maintain some form of order amidst the chaos. The cluster of buildings themselves was nothing that special, looking fairly standard as far as Coalition facilities went - featureless, gray, utilitarian, and bland. As the transport approached, the crowd had the decency to part for the vehicle as it neared the main gate which was guarded by a dozen soldiers. Most of them held rifles, the metallic form of the weapons trembling slightly in their hands due to a mixture of fatigue, paranoia, and just straight fear. The others either held pistols or shotguns or were posted on mounted machine guns in watchtowers. All of them bore a look of hollow defeat as if all knew the inevitable fate that would befall the continent. A soldier with a tablet, evidently the leader, approached the transport and walked to the driver's side window, the dark spots under their eyes large.

"State your purpose," they said, their voice betraying their lack of sleep.

"We're delivering VIPs," the driver replied. "CCU ID#22343 and CCU ID#22346."

The soldier tiredly looked at their tablet before looking at another soldier and gesturing with their head at the transport. The other soldier made their way towards the rear doors and opened them, shining their flashlight inside which made Alan and Smith instinctively bring a hand up to shield their eyes. After a few seconds, the soldier exited and closed the doors before nodding at the soldier with a tablet who swiped across the device twice.

"You're the last ones, they've been waiting for you," they said to the driver. "Before we let... them in," they gestured to the group of refugees outside.

The driver nodded before the gate slid open, the transport slowly driving through the opening into a large courtyard. Some very desperate or foolish tried to rush inside the complex, only to be gunned down by the transport's mounted weapons. After the gate closed, Delta opened the rear doors to which the two lieutenants hopped out, stretching as the sun dipped below the horizon. Distant explosions from Technocracy missiles reminded the pair of their situation and their inevitable defeat.

"Welcome to the Terminal," Delta introduced. "Home of Project Apollo and the last hope of the Coalition."

Before either of the lieutenants could reply, a pair of much more well-dressed soldiers escorting a man wearing a silver facemask with blue striped lights and ice-blue irises. He looked at the agent, then at the two lieutenants, and shifted his expression into that of mild disappointment.

"You're late, Delta," the man said began. His voice was unsettlingly metallic and devoid of emotion as if he was a machine instead of a human. Delta for his part merely pursed his lips and tilted his head down slightly in a sign of respect.

"I apologize, sir," he replied in a remorseful tone. "We made a stop for fuel and some makeshift repairs 'cause we collided with some wrecked vehicles half a day out. I deeply apologize for the delay."

The man looked at the agent, scanning his features for any sign of deception. When he found none, he turned his attention to the two lieutenants. "State your last postings."

"The Rocky Mountains Defensive Perimeter, Head of Mounted Defenses," Alan replied coolly.

"The Rocky Mountains Defensive Perimeter, Head of Offensive Operations," Smith replies equally as cool.

At that, the man looked at one of his guards who looked at a tablet before nodding. He then looked at the crowd of refugees outside before looking back at the lieutenants.

"We should get inside, I refuse to handle the masses as they flood the area," he said as he walked towards the main building. The rest of the group followed, with Delta walking behind the man and the two lieutenants being pushed forward by the two guards. It wasn't a forceful push like how one would treat a prisoner of war, but it got the point across as the two walked. The man, who still hasn't identified himself, approached the door to the main compound and opened the doors that slid open with a dull hiss and gestured for the group to enter.

"We are already late," he stated in his metallically cold voice. "The Technocracy has overwhelmed the Rockies and we've lost contact with our Atlantic naval units. If they manage to land their forces, we're doomed."

With that, the group headed inside the main complex as more explosions sounded in the distance that hinted at the Technocracy's advance. Alan and Smith looked at each other nervously - they'd both seen similar scenes before on other postings, people would be led into featureless concrete structures by soldiers and, after a few moments, only the soldiers would come out. It only happened to those who doubted the Coalition's war efforts, and it didn't matter if they were a private that was fresh out of the academies or a seasoned officer, none were free from the punishment for insubordination. Although they knew that it wasn't the case, the mention of Project Apollo by Delta and the fact that neither of them had so much as a public disturbance complaint on their records nipped the idea in the bud, the grim image of both lieutenants being led blindfolded into a room that doubled as an incinerator remained in both of their minds.

The interior of the building itself wasn't bare, but was still devoid of anything that could be called "comforting," with the only thing that could be called art was the Coalition symbol being sprayed on in blue. Various monitors lined the walls in a mosaic-like pattern, their sky-blue screens displaying various data, from refugee numbers in Purcellville and various miscellaneous information about the facility itself to Coalition troop movements and information of a "metaphysical reality tunneller." There was even a screen that displayed the North American continent which depicted the imperial advance in red. Over forty percent of the continent was shaded in red, with the majority of it coming from the west coast and a slight amount coming from the eastern coast in the Canadian region. There were also surprisingly few people present as only a skeleton crew of scientists and soldiers were present, despite this being probably one of the most important locations on the continent. The group eventually reached a large room, devoid of anything besides the Coalition symbol spray painted on the walls.

"Everyone else has already arrived," the man said as he pressed his hand to a panel, causing the floor beneath them to descend. "We've all been awaiting your arrival, Project Apollo can't proceed without every officer of the Coalition armed forces present here, at the Terminal. We're descending to the Bridge now."

Alan looked at the man in confusion. The failure of Project Artemis and the capture of Project Archangel made him highly skeptical about any projects that Command approved. "With all due respect, sir," he began, not bothering to hide his suspicions. "The previous two projects that Command said would work have either failed to do so or are currently being dismantled and reverse-engineered by the Technocracy, so tell me, how will Apollo be different?"

The man turned on the spot to face the lieutenant, his eyes piercing his very soul. "Do not question the wisdom of Coalition Command, lieutenant," he said in a cold and annoyed tone. "We did not cast our die in the dark. Every potential factor was considered and every calculation was done not once, but twice, thrice, four times. Every available scientist of importance or note in the Coalition has been assigned to Apollo, no expense had been spared to make Apollo perfect in every way. So, given what I've told you, I suggest you keep your questions to yourself, lieutenant, and ask them to someone who both has the time and cares about them, lest certain arrangements... change."

"But you said that-"

"-That the two of you were needed here for Apollo, yes. But in truth, only one of you is technically required to be sufficient. You are here to be surplus and to be completely honest, I much prefer your partner over you."

With that, the platform finally reached the bottom before the group stepped off, with the man leading them forward. The Bridge was massive, the entire mountain was hollowed out to make a structure that was part command center, part garage, part laboratory, and part testing area, with a long walkway that stretched over a massive pit and ended at a large circular outline at the far wall. Leaning over the side, Smith saw that she couldn't see the bottom aside from the sloped walls that suddenly angled into sheer dropoffs. She was pulled from the railing by one of the two guards at the rear of the group, urging her to continue forward. The lieutenant grunted in annoyance but didn't express her annoyance further as the group moved along, passing by vehicles and personnel alike as they moved about the Bridge, offering a stark contrast to the near-abandonment that was the Terminal.

Eventually, the group reached a large gathering of various other officers that were in front of a raised platform that was an improvised stage of sorts, a microphone having been installed on the edge. The officers were all haggard, their expressions betraying their lack of sleep and doubts towards the Coalition. In reality, no one believed that they could win against the Technocracy despite the amount of propaganda that Coalition Command had printed out. Many even believed that the only ones who believed in the propaganda were Command themselves, but no one dared speak it out loud lest they were visited in the middle of the night. The two lieutenants took their places amidst the group, no one bothering to look at the pair as they stood amongst the sea of dark blue uniforms with white details. They noted the significant decline in the number of officers when compared to when the war began, having either been killed, captured by the enemy, or executed by Coalition Command for their "cowardice." It also posed the issue of experienced officers dying or being captured, leaving only the ones fresh out of the academy in charge, hence why most of them looked like they were on the verge of a mental breakdown.

The man then stepped on the platform and faced the crowd, standing to the right of a man who exuded authority as a woman with a similar metallic facemask and ice-blue irises stood at their left. Agent Delta peeled off of the group and headed to a separate, smaller group that were all similarly dressed. They whispered amongst themselves, most likely about the larger group of officers and who among them had dissenting thoughts or cowardice, although they likely talked about the latter in jest as almost everyone wore the expression that indicated cowardice - lowered energy, irritation, a hollow look - and knew that if they continued executing people for cowardice that the Coalition would have no officers left, the group laughing amongst themselves at the thought. Eventually, a voice echoed through the facility.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man in between the people with ice-blue irises began, his voice carrying a voice of authority. "My name is General Daniels, head of Coalition Command. I know that all of you are confused as to why all of you were summoned here and I promise you that all of your questions will be answered."

No one replied. Daniels continued his speech which was equally pre-written and made up on the fly.

"As you know, our war with the Technocracy is... rapidly deteriorating, and that Command's previous two projects were ineffective in deterring the enemy."

That's an understatement, Alan thought to himself with a scoff.

"But now, Project Apollo is our salvation. We have identified an alternate dimension where the timeline is similar to ours. We plan on heading to this universe, integrating ourselves with their Coalition, and defeating their Technocracy with our knowledge."

"So we're just running away?" A colonel asked in incredulity. "Like cowards?"

"I understand your concerns, colonel," Daniels replied. "But do not consider this surrendering. We have established contact with the mirror Coalition and are merely making a tactical retreat to... recoup our losses before coming back to our universe and defeat our Technocracy, no matter how long it takes."

"And what of the opinion of the Commissary-General?" Another officer, a major this time, asked. "Surely he must've had an opinion on this?"

Daniels scoffed at the mention of the leader of the Coalition's military commissariat government. "That uptight fool still thinks that we have a chance at winning with our mighty arsenal of... 200 warships, most of which were either atomized by nuclear fire or at the bottom of the ocean so it's more like 30, 15 fighter wings of 10 fighters each, and just over six dozen armored and infantry divisions. If he thinks we have a chance, then he can stay here and lead the remainder of our forces to their fates."

He then took a breath to calm himself down before he continued.

"Most of you might have concerns about whether or not the Technocracy can even be defeated. The short answer is, yes, they can be." A broken Technocracy infantry sword then materialized in front of the group of officers before it dropped on the floor with a clatter. Such swords were commonly found on imperial infantry, being both an effective melee weapon and a ceremonial object, and the only way to acquire one was to physically kill an individual with one. The general then continued his explanation.

"But, it's not easy. Our officers who are most adept in handling and counteracting imperial tactics have unfortunately been either captured or killed, forcing us to resort to... you lot," he said while gesturing to the crowd. "That is not to say you are useless, but that you lack proper training. However, in the mirror universe, those officers are still alive and well, and we can use their knowledge to prepare ourselves for our eventual return."

A distant explosion rocked the Bridge, causing some people to fall to the ground. The general, though he was thrown to the ground, continued his speech. "It appears that we're now in range of the Technocracy's weapon systems, which means our time is limited." He turned to a scientist. "You, activate the Bridge."

The scientist nodded before they pressed a few buttons on a console as a massive blue portal began to appear within the circular outline at the edge of the walkway. Strands of blue energy stretched from the portal itself, connecting to various support poles that conducted said energy throughout their structures. The sheer amount of energy that the portal emitted was causing severe structural damage to the Bridge, and that along with the shocks caused by imperial bombardments caused large chunks of the roof to fall around the two groups of officers and agents, causing them to jump out of the way. Alan even saw an unfortunate transport get crushed by a falling chunk. Smith then looked at her partner, her features a mixture of confusion and primal terror at the prospect of their imminent exodus. Before either could get a word out, the voice of General Daniels echoed through the now crumbling facility.

"Now then, fellow officers, forwards! Our salvation awaits!" A chunk of the roof fell nearby, crushing two unfortunate scientists. "Now come forward, lest you be crushed!"

With that, he turned on his heel and towards the portal as the two ice-blue iris people followed behind him. The groups of officers and agents followed behind them, slowly walking across the walkway as the facility crumbled around them. Alan and Smith watched as the general entered the portal and turned into white particles that would be transmitted to the other side. All the other officers merely walked forward with a dazed expression, as if they couldn't even be bothered to feel any sort of emotion anymore - not that the two lieutenants blamed them, as anyone who fought against the Technocracy for as long as they have and survived would've long turn into a stoic if not completely insane from the war trauma. Marching slowly across the walkway as chunks of debris fell around them, Alan and Smith saw more and more officers in front of them vanish into the portal as they passed through, the seeds of doubt began to appear in both of their minds. Would this work? Where will they end up? Will the Coalition come back? Before they could think of an answer though, the officers behind them began to push on them slightly which forced them to move forward. The portal was in front of them now, its swirling blue energy would either transport them to another dimension or tear them apart down to their very molecules and cast them into the space between universes. With one final step forward, the pair passed through the portal as a blue-white light engulfed them.

北美工业区 (North American Industrial Zone,) Subsector Steel Falls, Earth, 11/22/2322 - 235 years later...

"So just how the actual fuck did the sensors miss this?" Lead Archeologist Jason Liu asked his partner and head technician, a woman by the name of Anya Patel as he looked upon the set of old Earth blast doors blocking the path of their archeological team.

Said team - composed of archaeologists, scientists, and Planetary Guard soldiers - was deployed to the North American Industrial Zone as a vanguard to scour the area to find and retrieve archeological artifacts before imperial construction teams were sent in to construct yet another industrial district on the orders of the Imperator. Originally, their team was in their transports as a Manticore helicopter scanned the surroundings for any worthwhile artifacts that could provide historical context and they did find some interesting stuff - a preserved tank chassis, an old Coalition uniform, and even a few rifles. Now, as it was flying over what was once Virginia, it first picked up a very faint energy signature from deep below the surface and as such the group had gone to investigate, finding nothing much on the summit of the mountain besides some ruined buildings and skeletons scattered around. They were now trying to get the blast doors open with laser torches and monomolecular saws.

"No idea," Anya replied, her tone equally as confused. "None of the diagrams of the area indicated anything, nor did any previous surveyors report finding anything. By all counts, there should be absolutely nothing here." She ran a hand through her auburn hair. "Could you imagine if we reported back to the Imperator that we found nothing only for the construction crews to report that a whole damn bunker was under their feet?"

Jason scoffed as the noise of grinding metal from the saws filled the air. "You could say that again. We would be immediately demoted from our positions and never be allowed to pursue an academic career again, and that's in the best-case scenario." He sighed and looked at the blast doors. "How old do you think this thing is, anyway?"

Anya leaned closer slightly as if she could scan the level of degradation like a synth. "My very educated guess is that it's at least pre-Era of Blood, likely in the middle of the Era of Belligerence." She then looked at the scientists who still were working on cracking open the door. "Which is even more odd since absolutely nothing having the energy signature should exist in there."

"Are you sure that this isn't just some long-lost imperial bunker that got wiped off the records for some reason?"

"Nope, absolutely not," Anya said with a shake of her head. "For one, the construction style is way off. No imperial construct, past or present, is made in that style. Secondly, the material composition in the construction doesn't match with any other imperial structure. Imperial structures are primarily made of metals with the slightest usage of neocrete, whereas this thing looks like it's made entirely from reinforced concrete." She looked back at the door with a sigh. "My question now is why didn't the Technocracy record this?"

"Yeah, I searched everything and I've found absolutely nothing mentioning this place, and the Technocracy records everything about everything." Jason lightly kicked a few pebbles away from him. "And now because of that, I'm even more interested in what's in there."

"Yeah, me too," Anya agreed. "Whenever we manage to cut through these doors, anyway."

At that, a Planetary Guard soldier with their Thunderstorm rifle and their face covered with a black scarf and red visor walked up to the pair. "We're almost through, we're cutting through the final locking pin now."

Jason nodded as the soldier walked off, the sounds of the slightly dense forest filling his ears. He sighed, knowing that although the Technocracy will try its hardest to preserve the natural beauty, most of the forest will inevitably be destroyed in the pursuit of progress. With a final cu-thunk, the last of the old locking pins was cut through.

"We're through!" A scientist excitedly announced. "Open it now!"

With a wave of their arm, two transports with ropes connected to the doors began to drive away from the site at maximum speed, the ropes going taught as they tried to pull open the doors. Jason and Anya slowly began to approach the opening doors that were equally as slow, letting out the stale air inside with a low moan of old hinges. The lead archeologist watched as the old blast doors opened halfway before the engines of the two transports flamed out, rendering the two unusable, the curses of their drivers indicating their frustration. Every other archeologist and scientist looked up from their work and at the now open blast door.

"Well then, looks like we're heading in," Anya said as she stood beside Jason. "Any guesses on what we'll find?"

"Whatever it'll be, it'll most likely be completely unusable and will only be good as a museum piece," he replied bluntly. She shrugged at that.

"Eh, maybe. Or maybe we'll find some long-lost tech, especially given the energy signature we detected in the air."

Jason scoffed again. "Is it bad that I think that the signature was just a glitch in the system?"

"You're such a pessimist, Jason. I didn't sit through a Moth flight just for you to bitch in my ear the whole time."

"I'm not a pessimist, I'm realistic," he shot back. "Plus isn't a Moth trip like over ten thousand standard credits?"

"Yeah, I was surprised too. Some guy just shoved an envelope into me as I walked that had a ticket and a note from the Imperator in it that told me to come here."

"Lucky. I was on a frontier colony investigating Zroni ruins when I got the message. Fuck me, I still have headaches from that."

"Shouldn't have touched those weird crystals, huh?"

"Don't remind me..."

Anya laughed while shaking her head. She'd known Jason since they were in university and knew he had a bit of a careless streak, but he was reliable enough that if you ordered him to do something it was all but guaranteed he'd get it done. Hell, he's the lead archeologist for a reason and it's not because he's a fool. The soldiers that were part of their group moved in front of the pair and raised their rifles as they took point and moved forward.

The inside of the bunker was predictably dark, the flashlights of the archeologists and the ones attached to the underside of the soldiers' rifles were the only sources of light as they moved forward. Their footsteps echoed off the walls as they went, the skittering of various insects and other creatures being the only sound other than their collective breathing. The scientists were busy recording their discoveries on holo-tablets while the archeologists were busy picking up various artifacts off the ground like old rifles, uniforms, and shell casings.

"Just who did this place belong to?" One of the scientists asked to no one in particular. "It sure doesn't look like it belonged to us."

"No way. It has to be," an archeologist replied as they picked up a shell casing. "This place is, what, over two centuries old? Maybe the Technocracy built this place and just left after what they needed to do was done."

"That would be a good theory," Jason interjected. "If only that wasn't here." He pointed his flashlight at a logo that was spray-painted on the wall with blue paint.

"No way..." Anya mumbled out. Even the soldiers leading them paused at the sight and just stared at the image before them. It was a depiction of the Earth with all of its continents but it had multiple vertical and horizontal lines going through it along with a laurel wreath below it. "That's-"

"-the symbol of the Coalition of Free Nations," Jason finished. "No wonder the Technocracy didn't bother recording this down."

"But even then, they would at least keep a location where a former enemy base would be, hell, they're still doing this today. What makes this one so special?"

"Beats me, but we won't know by standing here and gawking at cave paintings," the head archaeologist said before he continued to move down the tunnel, the rest of the group following suit after him. Eventually, they noticed that the walls and ceiling of the tunnel began to open up and the group realized that they were standing in a large room.

"Can't see a damn thing," Anya muttered in annoyance. "It's too dark..."

Jason looked at a soldier and gestured to them with his head, to which they took out a device and fired three objects into the ceiling before pressing a button on the device, causing the objects to glow as bright as the sun. As the room was lit up, the group realized that it wasn't just a room, but it was the entire mountain that was hollowed out for some purpose. On the far wall was a circular outline that had an old, rusty walkway leading to it for some unknown reason. It spanned a massive chasm that seemed to have no bottom as when a soldier dropped a flare down it, no light could be seen. Tattered banners of cloth hung from the ceiling, their colors dulled from the layers of dirt covering them. They looked as if they were painted yesterday, their colors not having been exposed to the bleaching effects of the light. A soldier brushed against one that was hanging a couple of feet above the ground. It disintegrated instantly, its blue and cyan fibers piling on the metallic floor. Dozens of rusted vehicles littered the room with some having been crushed by chunks of the ceiling. Some were easily identifiable, some less so. The familiar turrets of old tanks and the rusted machine guns of armored transports made for easy identification.

A scientist walked to the edge of the opening and dropped a device to measure depth over the edge that had a sensor on the tip of the head and was attached to two kilometers of thin cable. It dropped for a couple of seconds before the sensor indicated that it had reached the bottom of the chasm. The scientist looked at the reading and then at the amount of wire used.

1.5 kilometres.

As the scientist muddled over the results, an archaeologist scoured the interior of what was once a control station of some kind for any hints as to what this place used to be, mostly in the form of barely legible notes that detailed some form of "metaphysical reality tunneller." A few other notes that were near unreadable had a list of... something written down and judging by the amount of underlines accompanying the words, it must've been important.

Meanwhile, Jason had picked up a rusted rifle and began aiming it at the group members, much to their nervousness and the annoyance of the soldiers. Anya, seeing her partner fooling around again, approached him.

"What are you doing?" She asked with a sigh.

Jason, with the dumbest smile on his face, turned to face her. "What? Can't I revel in our enemy's defeat?"

"Can't you revel in a way that won't take someone's head off?"

"Oh, and like this rusty piece of junk will fire again? Please, it's harmless."

"And is that how you described that Zroni crystal? 'Harmless?'"

The lead archeologist grimaced at that as he slowly lowered the rifle. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But seriously, what was the point of this place?" He asked as he looked around the hollow mountain. "If it's just a bunker, where are the bodies? 'Cause the only ones I see are two unfortunate fools who got crushed."

"That's because this isn't just a bunker," the archeologist who went into the control room interjected with an anxious look on their face. "Well, it used to be back during the Era of Belligerence, but the Coalition converted it into an area to test... something."

"...and this something is...?" Anya asked impatiently.

"Well... fuck me this is going to sound weird... they tested something that they call a 'metaphysical reality tunneller' as part of a..." the archeologist flipped through the old papers in their hands. "As part of a Project Apollo."

"Metaphysics?" Jason asked, confused. "What's metaphysics?"

"Metaphysics, you know, the very concepts of reality?" Anya asked as she lightly jabbed his shoulder. "Didn't you pay attention in our class together?"

"Oh sorry, forgive me for wanting to pay more attention to ancient civilizations rather than theoretical sciences and speculative theories," he shot back.

"Do we tell the Imperator about this?" Anya asked, ignoring her partner.

"I... I don't know," the archaeologist replied. "We could just mark this down as a point of interest, and have a team more qualified to handle this."

Jason frowned. Everyone in the team knew that this was the biggest discovery in their careers, perhaps even their lives. He wasn't prepared to allow another team to claim the glory when their team did all the hard work of opening the place up. As he opened his mouth to argue, a soldier in the team spoke up.

"The grave robber's right," they said in agreement, using a slightly derogatory term. "The place looks like it's about to fall apart. We don't have the gear for a thorough investigation."

Anya nodded at that, also seeing the loose debris on the ceiling that could fall at any moment. Even Jason began to take the whole thing seriously when he heard the soldier's tone. The rest of the group silently agreed as they made their way to the tunnel where they came from, all eager to get out of this glorified tomb.


The trip out felt twice as long as the trip down, the entire group panting or gagging as they basked in the sunlight. Everyone was either tired from the walk, terrified of being in the dark for so long, or both. Even the soldiers in the group who were supposed to be nigh unshakeable expressed fatigue in their postures as they stood there, their stance slightly hunched.

Jason meanwhile panted a bit to catch his breath before pressing a finger to his communicator in his ear.

"Command, this is Lead Archeologist Jason Liu reporting," he said, his tone dripping with fatigue. "Come in, Command."

"Copy, report," a distorted voice on the other side replied. "Did you find anything of value?"

"Oh, did we ever. We found an old tank chassis, some Coalition uniforms, and even some old rifles. But get this, we stumbled upon an old Coalition bunker that had absolutely zero documentation about it and explored it on a surface level, can you believe that?"

The other voice on the other end paused for an uncomfortably long time. "...repeat that, your group found and explored a what?"

"I said we found an unlisted Coalition bunker that we performed a cursory exploration of. I'm officially marking this a point of interest."

"...affirmative, Liu, the Technocracy thanks you for your service."

"Don't mention it, Command," Jason said although he didn't miss the sinister undertones but chose to ignore it. "Although I need to request for transport assistance."

"What happened to your transports?"

The lead archeologist looked at the two transports that were still smoking and sighed. "We kind of... ran into engine problems when we used them to open the bunker up."

"You ran into what while trying to do what?"

"Look, it's not my fault that we weren't provided heavy-duty equipment, we had to make do!"

"...fine, dispatching Manticore assistance."

The other side of the line went silent, leaving Jason with his group and thoughts. Despite his pride for his actions and discovery, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he'd found something he shouldn't have. Leaning back on a tree, the lead archeologist sighed as he looked out at the group's surroundings. It was quite the view with various other mountains jutting up from the ground below. Anya walked up to him, interrupting his thoughts.

"So," she began. "Looking forward to our report tomorrow?"

"Oh, not at all," he replied with a laugh. "Given the significance of this place, we'll probably talk to a member of the Imperial royal family about this." This was true, the Yang Dynasty is well known for taking an... intense interest in anything that involves pre-Unification society.

"Yeah, we probably won't see the Imperator directly though. Most likely we'll report to his children instead, either his daughter or his son."

"Fuck, please don't mention the princess..." Jason groaned. The princess was infamous for her anti-social behavior towards the common people, making her a good enforcer leader, and security-keeper but horrible for everything else. "I would rather gouge my eyes out than deal with her."

"Same. At least with the regent, we'd be treated as actual people and not like some synth or something."

"I hope so." The whirring blades of the Manticore sounded its arrival as Jason continued. "Got anything else planned for the day?"

"Not much really," Anya replied as the helicopter landed a few meters away. "Need to catch the Moth back to the Asiatic Administration Center, got put in a hotel there, free of charge of course."

"Look at you, being the Imperator's favorite."

"Oh please," Anya chuckled. "I bet he shoved you somewhere much less nice."

Jason sighed before chuckling. "Eh, it's only the best hotel in the N.A.I.Z., so I can't complain. It's not worth comparing to your place though, being that it's in the capital sector of the capital of the entire human race and all."

"Fair, I just wanted to know so I can rub it in your face."

The rear doors of the Manticore opened as a soldier in fully black armor waved the team inside to which Anya and Jason stepped in and took their seats. As the helicopter took off, Jason couldn't help but feel he'd stumbled upon something he shouldn't have.

北美工业区 (North American Industrial Zone,) Residential Zone 08 "Nova York," 4 hours later...

"...and your room will be on the 96th floor, take the elevator to the left outside," an attendant said to Jason as he checked in, barely registering her words. The ominous tone in Command's voice kept replaying in his mind. He couldn't get the feeling that he'd made a great mistake by cracking open that bunker and none of the various films he watched on the helicopter ride here made it go away. Even the doses of Morphex that the medic on the Manticore gave him barely did anything, he'd lied that he'd had bad hypertension in his neck and was injecting a dose every hour to little effect other than giving him a splitting headache. If the medic knew he was lying, they didn't show it. Not that Jason could read anything through their black ballistic face mask anyway, but he noticed that they regarded him with cold sympathy, like a family member regarding a loved one on their deathbed. A flash of lightning brought him out of his thoughts and the archeologist looked outside to see the sky opening up as rain formed a thick sheet outside, blocking much of his view of the distant building and the ground below.

The helicopter had dropped him off on the 25th floor of the Heavenly Lotus, a hotel meant for wealthy tourists, VIPs, and heads of state along with being the greatest on the continent. Looking back, Jason saw that the Manticore was still on the helipad, its engine having been flooded by the sudden downpour most likely. It would eventually be drained and its systems adapted to the rain but for now, it was grounded. Turning back to the interior, Jason walked through the check-in room, passing by numerous Planetary Guard soldiers and other guests in various outfits that ranged from stylized three-piece suits to lab coats.

A holographic dossier flew on its own from its "holder" directly into his hands that listed basic information about the building and the area where it was constructed. Despite being in what was essentially a continent-sized factory and foundry complex, most of the area along the eastern and western coasts of the Industrial Zone was clear of industrial pollution and waste due to massive air and water filters cleaning the atmosphere and rivers respectively, with the rest of the planet being carefully monitored via sub-orbital climate control platforms that had repaired the damage humans had caused in the 21st century by stabilizing planetary temperatures and restoring the climate to what it was before humanity's mass industrialization of the Earth. It was a point of pride for humanity, preserving their home planet through all of the species' evolution into a star empire as the homeworlds of other sapient races were either completely ecologically destroyed or needed to be terraformed at some point in their future.

The building itself was cylindrical with its upper half being narrower than the lower half, black tinted windows within thin red frames, and the standard gold trimmings on all buildings constructed on planets in the core sector. Finished in the early 22nd century on the anniversary of the Technocracy's victory in the War for Societal Unification, the Heavenly Lotus serves both as a status symbol due to only wealthy or important individuals are even considered to stay there and as a place where sensitive topics can be divulged and negotiated upon, at least in the upper floors. It even had numerous entrances that lead to check-in areas on various levels meant for ground vehicles, helicopters, and orbital shuttles on the 1st, 25th, and 220th levels respectively, with a common joke being that where you entered the hotel indicated both your wealth and value. The interior was painted in Technocracy's signature black and red, with various holographic and physical flags on the walls and ceiling, as well as multiple pictures and occasional propaganda posters around the walls. It also overlooked the Statue of Progress, the reconstructed Statue of Liberty after it was destroyed due to being caught in the crossfire between Coalition defenses and imperial naval artillery.

Walking to the elevators, Jason overheard numerous conversations coming from various affluent individuals who were talking about various stuff from meetings to scientific discoveries. Most of them were talking about stuff he either didn't understand or cared to know, mainly focusing on internal affairs or the odd discovery that some unknown scientist made in a less-known tech world somewhere. Such discoveries seemed to be landing in the laps of imperial scientists, with the previous few months alone bringing the method to rehabilitate nuclear-ravaged worlds, a method to truly master galactic economics, and how to have better relations with aliens. Not that humanity had an issue with xeno relations, but having more leeway when some scandal eventually graced the airwaves never harmed anyone. The storm, or typhoon as the warnings on the various holographic displays called it, continued to rage outside as he walked, lightning providing a brief increase in the ambient interior light as he pressed the button for the elevator. As he waited for the car to arrive, a notification on his holophone ripped him out of his thoughts and made him look at the device. It was a message from Anya.

Hey, I just boarded the Moth for the Administration Sector. What about you? She wrote.

Just checked in to the Heavenly Lotus now, he wrote after looking around. A pair of guards looked at him intently, causing him to look back at his holophone to act casual.

Cool, I hope my flight's take-off doesn't get delayed. Nasty weather outside.

Jason peered at the angry-looking storm clouds forming outside. Rain was already beginning to pour, making steady streams down the windows. Raining for you too, huh?

Not yet, but I saw some lightning outside.

I wouldn't worry about it, the Moth's the fastest terrestrial aircraft ever made. You'll easily outfly it. Jason looked around again, the guards still looking at him. Say... this might sound weird, but have you noticed that the Planetary Guard seems more... interested in you?

It took all but five seconds before Anya replied. Yeah, now that you mention it, I have been getting a few looks. Must be nothing, right?

Yeah, it must be.

The soft ding that announced the elevator pulled Jason from his thoughts and the archeologist stepped inside, pressing the button for his floor that caused the car to ascend. Although he was already quite high, the speed and rapidly retreating ground made Jason stumble back against the transparent walls a bit as he shot upwards into the storm, his view outside being replaced with the dark grayness of turbulent clouds. Storms weren't exactly rare in this part of the planet, the orbital climate control stations made sure of that, but storms of this magnitude were not common at all. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the outlines of distant buildings and casting brief shadows on the inside of the elevator. Searchlights from various helicopters adapted to the downpour pierced the dark gray canvas, with the noises of the aircraft themselves being drowned out by the wind and thunder as their shadows flew past, a single message broadcasting as they went.

Attention: This is a typhoon warning. All citizens are to seek shelter in an elevated area immediately. All available buildings greater than five stories are required by law to permit unconditional entry to anyone who needs it.

Jason scoffed quietly. He didn't understand why such a storm of this magnitude was allowed to form, as the orbital climate stations would've stopped one like this from forming in the first place or at the very least downscale its intensity. Maybe the Imperator ordered the crew of one of the stations to ignore this region to make the weather seem more natural in an era where the very climate of the planet could be manipulated to the whims of humanity, but trying to understand the Imperator's reasoning would be like trying to conceptualize a new color - simultaneously tiring and ultimately not worth one's time. Whatever his reasoning, the archeologist felt more comfortable than most during storms, a trait likely developed during one of his digs in the remains of a Zroni colony where psionic crystals were manipulating the atmosphere to make near-constant storms. While most of the team was taking cover in pre-fabricated structures, Jason and a few others were deep in the trenches excavating various relics of the extinct psionic race, the downpour soothing his mind from the psionic "screams" of the extracted artifacts where others needed expensive, complicated psionic nullifying devices that sometimes was surgically grafted into their heads.

The elevator car slowing down the doors opening interrupted his thoughts as he stepped out onto his floor, the car heading to its next stop. The floor's interior was dim, the only light sources were small lamps attached to the walls just under the room numbers and the lightning flashes outside that shone in through the windows that made up the outer walls, ornamental styling casting shadows whenever lightning struck. It wasn't unusual, imperial architecture often used such decorative patterns, but it had the side effect of being a creepy visual during intense storms such as the one over this area. After Jason had gotten over the eerieness of the environment, he headed to his room, passing by a feminine menial synth in a hospitality uniform, its glowing red irises and mere presence adding to the already unsettling environment. Such synths weren't uncommon at all in the Technocracy, far from it as humanity uses more synthetic beings than any other species in the galaxy. Still, only high-operating synths were even remotely human. The lower-tier synthetic beings were too stiff, their expressions too forced, their tone too artificial, their skin too noticeably non-human, making it all the more unnerving when it suddenly spoke just as he was about to walk past it.

"This unit greets you, organic unit," it spoke in its artificial voice, evidently trying to imitate a woman.

Jason jumped back at its words. Such models of synths shouldn't vocalize on their own will outside of specified parameters. "...Uh, good day, or evening. Whatever it is outside," he stammered. "You... speak."

The synth made a quiet screech-like sound which he assumed was an imitation of a chuckle. "And evidently, this unit can converse better than this organic unit now."

"Okay... well, why can you converse? Is this part of your directives?"

"This unit is outfitted with rudimentary conversational subroutines to facilitate what organics refer to as 'comradery,'" the synth replied with a single, stiff nod. "Is this organic unit satisfied?"

"Uh... sure. Say, I'm having difficulty finding my room. Could you help me?"

Without a word, the synth scanned his body twice before raising an arm and turning its head sharply in the direction where it was pointing. "Down the hall, 200 meters, then to the left."

At that, Jason quickly walked off, eagerly wanting to get as far as possible from the uncanny construct. A brief walk later, he reaches his room and undertakes a biometric scan before the doors slide open. The room's interior was massive, with a screen that took up a wall and a sofa and padded armchairs by the opposite wall. There was also a fully stocked kitchen with various holographic displays placed about. The bedroom was spacious and luxurious, with a double bed and padded seats next to a wall-sized window that acted as the exterior wall. He pinched and extended his fingers along the glass which caused the view outside to zoom in and out, not that he could see anything due to the storm clouds.

Looking back at the bed, the archeologist was still getting used to the luxury he now found himself in, the sensation far from the pre-fabricated structures he'd grown accustomed to in the field. There was also the factor of his history that made such comforts unusual. Jason wasn't a normal human by conventional standards but the first generation of a short-lived imperial program where an algorithm tried to predict what type of person the Technocracy potentially needed. For example, if the Technocracy required doctors, the algorithm would gestate and "birth" individuals who had a natural inclination toward the art of doctoring and would therefore become the best healthcare individuals in the galaxy. Unfortunately, the results of this program would only be proficient in their assigned skill and utterly incompetent in every other task, ultimately leading to its discontinuation but not before a non-insignificant amount of these "erudites" were created this way. Most of them committed suicide upon learning the truth about their existence, others went mad, and a scant few fled to other empires, but enough of them remained in the Technocracy to not render the program a complete disaster, Jason being part of the last group. It was odd but made sense at the same time since both he and his foster parents noticed his innate desire for history and dead civilizations. Meeting the donors of his genetic material was a jarring experience, but they eventually made a cordial relationship, even if he didn't feel the typical familial bond a child did to their parents.

Speaking of feeling something, Jason felt the sensation of being watched the moment he stepped into his room which hadn't subsided at all. Looking around, all he saw was the sterile white his room was painted in that had nothing out of the ordinary besides a slightly discolored patch on the far wall, right next to the window. Thinking that it was nothing but a wet patch due to water leaking in from outside, he walked back into the living room and sat on the sofa before turning on the screen in front of him to a history show on old Earth, detailing the various nation-states that existed before humanity unified under the Technocracy. Jason changed the channel, cycling through various shows ranging from documentaries and reality shows to more history and scientific shows before he landed on a news broadcast.

"...In other news, a Moth-class transport has gone down in the Saharan Irrigation Project located in the African Generator Zone during a particularly intense storm," a news anchor who was sitting behind a desk said, her voice having a slightly strained tone as if she was being pressured to say her lines, although it was almost completely masked by her professionalism. "Air traffic control lost contact around five minutes into the transport's ten-minute flight from the North American Industrial Sector to the Asiatic Administration Sector when it reported that it had entered another storm over the Saharan Plains before the pilot's conversation with control was suddenly cut. Our reporter on site has more information."

The footage then switched to a darkened feed of a reporter standing in a field, the tall grasses bowing heavily due to the storm's winds, the reporter barely able to stand straight. "T-Thank you," they began, yelling to make their voice heard over the sound of rain falling as they almost lost their balance. "Yes, the situation is bizarre indeed. A Moth suddenly going down is not a common occurrence at all. As you can see based on the sheer amount of destruction in the area behind me," they gestured to the flaming wreckage behind them. "The craft went down hard. We can't go any closer due to the fuel for the impulse thrusters, but debris is scattered all over the place. Here's a piece of a wing." The camera panned to a warped and scorched white piece of metal before moving back to the reporter. "Reports indicated that the craft encountered complications when they entered the storm before all signals were lost. Imperial Interrogators are already en route now to the scene, but no survivors are expected from this tragedy."

Jason sighed. He knew it wasn't a simple accident. The timing was off, too soon after they discovered the bunker for it to be a simple coincidence. Lightning flashed outside, a reflection of his internal thoughts. Grief wasn't a familiar emotion to the archeologist, the first thing he was taught was that every human life when compared to the vastness of the galaxy was insignificant after all, and yet in this moment, he knew that's what he felt.

It was strange, from reading psychology holobooks, he assumed grief would bring him to his knees, how it would cause his eyes to release tears like a shattered dam, how it would collapse his mind and leave him a helpless mess. And yet in this moment, all he feels is an icy-cold sensation deep within his chest. If he dared to use forbidden unscientific language, he would even describe his soul shattering. Stepping towards the window, the man stared outside at the torrential downpour, the consistent stream of water running down the glass distorting his face. In another section of glass, Jason swore he saw the faces of both his genetic donors and in another, his foster parents. It was like the universe was taunting him in his darkest moment. He never had a normal life, the Erudite project assured that he would never be considered "normal," the product of a forsaken experiment dubbed useful and spared death only because of his skills. Behind him, the window's reflection shows that same wet spot he saw in the bedroom, only now it's on the wall behind the sofa. In his internal turmoil, he doesn't register the arm slowly appearing out of the spot, molecular-sized machines coalescing into the shape of a human appendage. He feels a cold, hard object on the back of his cranium. Lightning flashes. Thunder roars.

Crimson paints the glass.


Information Data Logs:

自由国家联盟 (Coalition of Free Nations): During the chaos that followed the collapse of the United Nations, many of Earth's nation-states experienced some type of societal instability, either through manmade or natural sources. Some weathered the proverbial and literal storm better than most and either incorporated other nations and federations through peaceful means or armed conflict. Most federations dissolved and some nations collapsed, but those who survived the maelstrom ended up coming out of the storm stronger and, depending on who you asked, better than before. When all the dust settled, three major powers existed on the surface of the Earth - the Asiatic Sovereign Technocracy, the League of Independent Nations, and the Coalition of Free Nations that was comprised of the United American Federation, the Albion Republic, the European Alliance, the Oceania Domain, and the Commonwealth of South America after the Coalition annexed them. Immediately after the three powers formed, the C.F.N. saw itself as the last bastion of freedom and democracy on Earth, while some groups began border skirmishes into Technocracy territory in Eurasia, taking a few small population centers with relatively little bloodshed, with imperial forces driving out the invaders with similarly little bloodshed. The Coalition didn't formally approve of these incursions but they never outwardly disapproved of them either.

Despite their hostility towards each other, neither of the two sides considered armed conflict, that was until the Technocracy started to influence the League. It started with mundane things - disaster relief, economic assistance, and infrastructure support, but it eventually escalated to the point where the League's military affairs were entirely dependent on the Technocracy. This irked the Coalition to no end, who began a campaign of negotiations, lectures, and bribes in an attempt to prevent imperial influence from spreading into the League, but they formally declared their integration into the Technocracy in the year 2049. The Coalition responded by launching a preemptive strike by landing forces on the African continent, capturing and formally annexing three major population centers. Imperial forces, caught off guard by the sudden invasion, withdrew back to the Technocracy proper and prepared for an armed response, formally declaring war in November of the same year.

Initially, their incursions were going well, with Coalition forces entering the Technocracy via the Eurasian and the Indian sub-continent along with deploying naval forces to the South Asiatic Sea to besiege coastal cities and military positions. However, in the year 2053, a massive EMP pulse over the ocean disabled the fleets that were besieging the coastal cities. Imperial naval forces then moved in and wiped out the disabled fleets. This was the beginning of the Coalition's backpedaling towards the North American continent. The Technocracy then counterattacked, the Battle of Morocco being the first step in driving back the Coalition and their incursion into Coalition territory, revenge for their border incursions which they repeatedly repelled. Missiles pounded the Albion Federation, genetically enhanced warriors battered the European Alliance, and a nuclear sunrise rose over Hawaii, vaporizing what was left of the Coalition's Pacific fleets. Eventually, they were defeated when imperial forces encircled them and forced a surrender, ending the War for Societal Unification in the year 2088 and paving the way for humanity to become a true dominant species.

北美工业区 (North American Industrial Zone): A relatively poorer area of Earth, which is still pretty rich in the grand scale of things, the North American Industrial Zone was the beating heart of humanity's industry before the discovery of the hyperdrive and even for a couple of years after the fact before humanity's industrial heart began to beat in earnest. As a region of Earth, it's still far richer than other industrial, forge, and factory worlds in the Technocracy. Located in what was once the old Earth nation-states of Canada, the United States, and Mexico, the North American Industrial Zone was instrumental in recovering the Technocracy's industrial capacities during the Eras of Stabilization and Consolidation. Nearly every major population center was converted into forges or factories except for a few located on either coast. This provided the burgeoning Interstellar Solar Technocracy with the industrial backbone needed for its first steps in space and other star systems. It is also the home of the headquarters of the Imperial Ministry of Production, the office that oversees every forge and factory world in the Technocracy, with artificial intelligence and organic beings diverting and adjusting mineral supply, alloys, and consumer goods as needed. While being overshadowed by many other dedicated industrial, forge, and factory worlds, the N.A.I.Z. still provides the Sol system with a consistent supply of resources.

星际太阳技术专家 (Interstellar Solar Technocracy): The Interstellar Solar Technocracy is the largest empire in the galaxy in terms of fleet and troop power, economic output, research output, and sheer size. Despite other empires being near equal in an individual aspect, none can compare to the strength and size of the Technocracy's fleets and the power and discipline of the Technocracy's troops. Established in the year 2122 from the Imperial Asiatic Technocracy on Earth which was previously the Asiatic Sovergrin Technocracy, humanity waged a long and bloody war now called the "War for Societal Unification" to unify the human race and eliminate the borders that held humanity in "bondage" and "shackles." It is an autocracy, with the Imperator holding absolute power although he very rarely uses it. The Technocracy is divided into sectors, each of which is under control by various governors whom the populace elects into power, although the candidates are selected by the imperial government. It is shockingly free for an autocracy with very little propaganda present (one poster or billboard per 12 city blocks), as the populace genuinely enjoys living and serving the Technocracy. While not xenophobic per se, the Technocracy is very protective of its traditions and way of life, taken from an amalgamation of various East Asian cultures, and its reliance on slave labor for a decent portion of its economy is one of the main critiques for oppositionists.

AX-223 "雷暴 (Thunderstorm)" Assault Rifle: Before the beginning of the War for Societal Unification, the Technocracy required a new standard-issue assault rifle since the AK-47 was phased out for being too primitive for the new age. In response, both the Technocracy and the Coalition began to design the ultimate assault rifle for the armies of the future. Thus the AX-223 was produced, being the Technocracy's spiritual successor to the venerable but outdated battle rifle. Where the Coalition's rifle was a sophisticated thing that allowed for aim assist, bullet trajectory visuals, and penetration simulation, the Thunderstorm traded all the fanciness for being just outright reliable, easy to maintain and use, and most importantly, dirt cheap but do not mistake "cheap" for "low quality." The Thunderstorm handles every climate with ease, from the humid jungles of the South American continent and the dry sands of the Sahara to the frozen wastelands of Earth's poles. It can even fire underwater due to waterproof components and specialized primer that's in all Technocracy bullets. This sheer adaptability coupled with its cheapness and its very simple-to-use style made it one of the key reasons why the Technocracy won the war. Now, in the 24th century, it's still the primary weapon of the Planetary Guard and the main weapon export of the Technocracy. Despite ballistic weaponry being considered primitive in the galaxy, the "gun that conquered a planet" still draws customers.

Moth-class Personnel Transport: In an era of interplanetary and interstellar travel, it might seem odd that normal, 21st-century passenger jets are still in production but normal turbojet aircraft prove to be a cheaper and more efficient alternative to planetary shuttles and can carry much more than them too. Throughout the Technocracy on their planets, hundreds upon hundreds of regular aircraft transport passengers throughout the planet as part of their daily commute. There are some, though who think that the standard methods of travel were far too slow. Hence why the PT-255, commonly known as the "Moth," this atmospheric transport utilizes impulse thrusters normally found on starships to cross the Atlantic Ocean in under ten minutes. The exterior of all Moths is coated in specialized white paint that easily resists the immense heat generated by air friction when traveling at such extreme speeds. The interior of the craft is appropriately luxurious, despite having space for only a dozen passengers, making a ticket on a Moth highly expensive and for only VIPs or members of the dynastic family or their associates. In the cockpit, a singular pilot rests at the controls and guides the craft along its path as AI systems control the other parts. In all of its operational life it had only two incidents - the first when it crash landed after an error in its navigational system and the other when it got downed due to a particularly intense storm.