Chapter 162 - Stranglehold

[A convoy of metal freighters have been raided when crossing the border between the Loeric and the Chenum Republic. No survivors were found in the wreckage, in which bodies were left heavily mutilated. The brutality goes far beyond any known pirate or criminal gang. The Chenum Republic has been cooperating to find the culprits whole-heartedly…]

A fist slammed the sturdy marble table. “That’s a sham. They are the ones who planned the attack.” Admiral Feanor was bursting with fury, with the other admirals nodding in agreement.

The entire border fleet that was previously dealing with the consistent slovesa raids was now consolidated in the Strathon System. The hundreds of thousands of corvettes orbited the planet like a metallic blanket, visible from the surface.

It was a period of a lull for the admirals, but the tension in the meeting was still extremely high.

“This is the same pattern as it has been for the last three wars. A few trading convoys get brutally assaulted, and as soon as one of their own gets attacked, the blame will shift to us immediately.”

“Why are we still being forced to play along with this farce? Year-on-year, they are always continuously the aggressors.”

Despite the militaristic nature of the Loeric Empire, they have always been fighting on multiple sides, most notably the slovesa. This meant that they have always taken a defensive stance in all their wars with the Chenum Republic.

“How can their citizens even justify such bloodthirsty ambition from their leaders?” Another admiral shook his head in resignation.

“They are fools, spurred on by the Kriles Dominion. This has always been a proxy war between the C-class states, vying for power in the D-class states without considering our opinion.”

A stern and vigorous voice wafted in from the head of the conference table. “Do not slander our allies. The Ebsian Church has been a longstanding supporter in our continued sovereignty.” It was Kyle Hawthorn, grand commander of the border fleet. His usual pride and high self-esteem could be seen clearly through his confident gaze.

“Enough bickering. Report on the status of the Fleet.” Kyle ordered.

“Yes, sir. All seven legions have been consolidated in Strathon. We are currently still in the midst of resupplying and replenishing our manpower from the local citizens, though training them may prove to take longer.” One of the admirals stood up to read off his multi-terminal.

Kyle nodded. It has been a non-stop campaign of continuous fighting and rotations of crew members as well as marines for the last five years. Though he may have achieved great victories in claiming new slovesa systems while staving off raids, the consistent battles have taken a toll on the troops.

Each Legion did not have a strict number limit or organizational limit – instead, it was dependent on the budget allocated to the admiral of the Legion. Each Legion was expected to be able to work as an independent battle group where needed, hence none of the Legions was heavily specialized.

A screen detailing the exact numbers of the ships and corvettes of each Legion appeared on each of the admirals’ screens. There was no jealousy among the admirals of the border fleet – they knew that whoever got the largest budget would also suffer the largest losses, being the vanguard of the entire fleet.

Each of the Legions now had a minimum of two hundred and fifty thousand corvettes, two hundred frigates along with three to ten destroyers each. Destroyers acted like the capital starships of any major engagement, being close to ten times the size of a corvette.

While the Loeric Empire’s military definitely had the capability to manufacture larger ships such as cruisers or carriers, it was not common due to the vastness of space. Intergalactic war was waged on multiple orbital planes and systems. Concentrating all their crew members into a single super-ship was usually a recipe for disaster.

The border fleet was specially tailored to countering slovesa raids, which meant they had to cover a wide range of star systems and planetary bodies. Splitting up the Legion into smaller ships just made much more common sense.

However, it wasn’t to say that the border fleet did not have access to larger starships – Kyle himself had a cruiser, but it was always to serve as a frontline command centre. Only in rare occasions when they needed to break a planetary stronghold would they then employ the cruiser in an offensive formation, the grand commander himself leading the charge.

As the admiral continued on to elaborate on the conditions of the ground troops, a message beeped on the multi-terminal of Kyle. He barely glanced at the contents of the message, but it was enough for him to adopt a solemn expression.

“I have an announcement to make. Following the orders of the Emperor himself, the majority of the border fleet is to reposition towards the galactic north, to defend against a possible incursion by the Chenum Republic.” Kyle interrupted the report, leading to the admirals’ surprised expressions.

“Are the wartime fleets not already enough?” Admiral Feanor questioned. “There are more than twenty-five Legions already present at the galactic north. Melsura is practically an indestructible chokepoint now!”

“There’s military intelligence that suggests this offensive will be the biggest we’ve ever seen.” Kyle replied stoically. “Already the Chenum Republic have mobilized their reservist corps.”

A wave of discussion broke out amongst the admirals. “Silence! There’s nothing to discuss further. The Emperor’s orders are final. However, Admiral Feanor and his Legion will remain behind to serve as a buffer in case the slovesa break their ceasefire. You will henceforth report directly to the Dynasty of Hawthorn’s branch in Strathon for the time being, maintaining the security of the systems here.”

Admiral Feanor nodded. It was not unusual for Legions to be left behind in the event of a surprise attack or a sudden incursion from a different enemy, like the slovesa or the criminal groups from the Beyond. A consistent deterrence had to always be maintained at all costs.

Either way, reporting to the Dynasty of Hawthorn was effectively the same as reporting directly to Kyle Hawthorn, though Admiral Feanor was temporarily not part of the border fleet.

The meeting continued for a while as they discussed mobilization plans. As soon as the meeting was adjourned, the commands started to flow down the hierarchy, leading to a steadily growing wave of movement among the millions of corvettes.

Millions of soldiers and crew members on shore leave had it cut in half, forced to return to the corvettes. For a moment, the orbital transportation system for Strathon experienced a jam, with the wait times for an automated lifter being close to an hour.

Only Kyle and Admiral Feanor was left behind in the meeting room. “Admiral Feanor, you have been with me for a long time, haven’t you?”

“Yes sir, ever since you joined the border fleet ten years ago. We both served on the same corvette at the start.”

Kyle stood up, walking towards the see-through glass as he watched millions of pods leave the surface, heading to the ships. His own cruiser stretched more than five kilometres long, hanging in orbit. Already he could see the thousands of cargo containers and equipment being pushed into the loading bay by tug drones.

“What do you think of the Loeric Empire?”

“Sir, it is one of the greatest star nations to exist in the Melsura Star Sector.”

“Be honest, Admiral Feanor. You yourself know exactly what I’m talking about. The countless times our budgets have been cancelled by the central authority, manipulated by those above us. The Dynasties continued to strangle us, hoping to keep us down and away from the central systems.” Kyle replied with a tinge of anger.

Admiral Feanor didn’t reply immediately, taking the time to think. Both he and Kyle did not start out as officers directly, but rather as grunt crew on a patrol corvette, despite Kyle’s upbringing. Kyle had chosen to start from the very bottom. They had survived hardships both in and out, watching their teammates die due to the incompetency and political shenanigans of the Dynasties. “I’m… not sure what you are saying, sir.”

“I am the first commander of a fleet to have ever come from the Dynasty of Hawthorn. The other three Dynasties are being threatened by my increasing reputation and strength, as well as the control I have over the new worlds. We should not be calling ourselves an empire, but rather an oligarchy.”

Admiral Feanor couldn’t help but agree. The Dynasties truly ruled everything, and Kyle knew it the best. Kyle himself was a Dynasty member after all. However, he was still confused as to what Kyle was getting at.

“There will come a time when the three Dynasties will try to pressure you to do something you do not want to while I’m gone. No doubt they have schemes and plans on the Strathon System and other Hawthorn-controlled areas.”

“You want me to fight back against them.”

“No, I want you to concede.”

Admiral Feanor was confused. “What? If we concede, your authority and position will be eroded even further.”

“The reason why I have said all of this is so that we are on the same page. I respect you as an equal. This is not the time nor the battle to stand up for ourselves. We must play our cards right and choose our fights properly. I will inform you again when the right time is, but for now, we must remain compliant and obedient. Only then can we lower the guard of the three Dynasties?”

Admiral Feanor was mildly surprised at the amount of tacit and patience Kyle had now. He recalled a prideful young officer who would do anything to get what he and his crew deserved. “I understand.”

“Good. I will see you. Perhaps after the war.” Kyle left the meeting room, speaking of the Chenum Republic war as a certainty.

Leaving the meeting room, he read the pending messages on his multi-terminal. One of them was marked red, a report from his agent planted on Athen.

[Report #617: No change in plans. Oliver Athen is moving as arranged. All sensors and cameras are in place for the field test. Expected involvement of the three Dynasties, multiple confirmed sightings of their private mercenary outfits entering the Strathon system under stealth jumps and hidden warp beacons.]

***

Henry Lesion rubbed his tired eyes, his back sore from the last eighteen hours he had spent lying in the VR pod.

Millions of documents had to be authorized and processed as the New Saint enforcers were undergoing a drastic change to become the planetary police force!

Requests and errors poured in like a waterfall, forcing Henry and his administrative team to handle everything non-stop.

It’s only been two weeks since the declaration of planetary unification by Oliver Athen, and already the reports of resistance and violence have risen. “We just don’t have enough people…” Henry sighed in an exasperated tone.

[Sir, we managed to catch a few more rebel agents. Awaiting your orders. Previous interrogation attempts have failed.] A gruff voice echoed in the VR pod.

“Don’t talk to them any longer, it’s obvious what you guys are doing isn’t working any longer. I’ll take over,” Henry replied, cutting off the communication. With the expanded jurisdiction radius, New Saint enforcers have begun targeting the small supply networks far beyond the city border, allowing them to widen their net and catch rebels.

However, the pool of captured rebels was all low-rank, and Henry did not expect many of them to have information that would be critical. None of the rebel bases, if they had any, could be detected yet. Not even the agents themselves knew the exact location of the rebel base.

Henry struggled to get up from the VR pod, his muscular body sweating through the office shirt he wore. It wasn’t easy to spend eighteen hours with his NEIR at almost max capacity. If he did not have the assistance of a few A.I. he might be braindead by now by the sheer amount of data he had to process.

He walked hastily through the packed corridors of the headquarters in Zone 1, dodging frantic clerks who desperately tried to sort out logistical issues. The hangar bay and armoury were in a constant state of tension, with squads being rotated in a day cycle non-stop. Henry could already see the fatigue building in many of the support staff who maintained the exosuits and weapons, as well as the hovercars. “This isn’t sustainable at all..”

Henry soon reached the interrogation chambers. The guard saluted him as he walked up to the cold steel door, with Henry eyeing the prisoner inside. “Details,” Henry muttered, with the guard immediately handing him a multi-terminal with a report.

Henry gave it a quick glance, before placing his hand on a scanner, and unlocking the door. “How are you feeling, Terry? You need anything to drink, eat?” Henry put on a smile as he sat opposite the chained agent.

“Ah, the good cop arrives. Was wondering when they’ll swap. I wasn’t expecting the great Henry Lesion, however.”

“Terry, be serious.” Henry adopted a solemn expression. “We’re old mates from Zone 17, let’s work this out. If it’s possible, I’ll try to get a lighter sentence for you…”

The chained agent suddenly jerked his chains in a burst of rage, roaring at Henry. “DON’T GIVE ME THAT CRAP!”

The guards had already entered the room, their rifles aimed at the struggling agent but Henry raised his hands, motioning for them to step back. “Terry, we can talk this out! The riots have already ended more than six years ago, it’s time to put our past differences aside.”

A mocking smile on the rebel agent appeared. “Oh? Why don’t you just brainwash me now like you did to the remainder of Zone 17? And don’t act like you don’t know about it, I’ve seen you personally administer it.”

Henry didn’t even react, only continuing to talk slowly. “It was a necessity at the time, Terry. Zone 17 was the most violent outer zone out of all of them. If we didn’t implement the corrective measure, I’ll be forced to wipe out the zone.”

“Sorry, ‘corrective measure’? Is that what you’re calling it now? Eradication of one’s most beloved memories, identity and emotions is a corrective measure?”

“It’s… it’s not as terrible as you put it. Their memories are simply locked safely away, and we will return it once the planet has stabilized. You don’t understand, Terry, I did it for the good of our people.”

“HAH!” The rebel agent scoffed with an incredulous expression. “You think you’re still a part of us? You’re the biggest traitor among us.”

“You can’t beat the system like this, not the way you’re trying to with sheer violence and brutality. We have to convince the inners from within, don’t you understand?!” Henry started to get a bit more exasperated.

“Is that the speech you used to brainwash my family? Huh? Is that what you used to convince them to join the Relocation Program, and never to return again? Do you think that I want to kill people for fun, to destroy infrastructure just for laughs?!”

“I know you don’t… but…”

“The rebellion is not the plague, but the symptom of the system. Don’t you see?! We were made, forced to rebel. I wasn’t born a rebel! You and I both know that. How can you remain so oblivious and so sure of your ideology? You and the other outers who joined the New Saint enforcers have lost sight of how broken the system is.”

“The system may be broken, but there are legal ways and legal routes to fix them! There are institutional paths and regulations!” Henry shot back.

“There is also institutionalized racism and segregation, along with illegal research experiments on the ‘lower-class’, which you claim to be a part of. Equality starts with a fire, Henry, and as long as you can’t grasp that, there’s nothing left to discuss between us. You can torture me all you want.” Terry smirked.

“Please, Terry, the planet is on the verge of chaos. Millions will die from the resulting conflict! Isn’t preserving lives more important than ideology?”

“I’m not some domesticated herd living for the sake of living, Henry. I AM A HUMAN FIRST AND FOREMOST, NOT AN OUTER!” Terry yelled, frantically struggling at the chains.

Henry stared with a rising wave of simmering anger at the thrashing agent. Walking out of the room with the door closing behind him, he sighed, still rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Sir, what do we do with him?”

Henry paused for a moment, but soon recovered his posture, standing upright. “Hack his nerval interface and pull out every bit of data you can. Once that’s done, hand him over to Zone 17 for ‘post-processing’. He deserves a normal life free from these insignificant burdens.”