Imperium
The Galactic Imperium, the greatest civilization to ever exist, the cradle of culture and humanity. A dominion of trillions stretching the breadth and width of the Milky Way Galaxy. Unrivaled in glory, wealth, and power. The Emperor sits upon the Celestial Throne, the Senate governs in his name, and the Imperial military keeps it safe. But all is not as it seems. The Imperium is crumbling, stagnate for thousands of years, the Senate grown decadent and increasingly fragmented. Should the Imperium fall it would lead to another stellar dark age, another Warring States period, and much would again be lost. For twenty-thousand years it has been the unassailable pillar to hold the light of civilization amid the grasping sea of night's embrace. The pillar is cracking.
It is the twenty-sixth millennium and the Galactic Imperium has spread across the breadth and width of the Milky Way Galaxy. Encompassing approximately fifteen million worlds, deep space stations, asteroid colonies, and outposts. While the Galaxy has billions of star systems, of which the Imperium only possesses a fraction, it is the only civilization left in the Galaxy. All others encountered had been assimilated, conquered, or exterminated from the face of the Galaxy. While there is much still left unexplored, the Galactic Imperium is the light in the dark, but now after more than two hundred centuries this venerable candlelight is beginning to flicker. The Imperium is beset from increasing fronts: economic stagnation brought about by an increasingly stagnant society; increasing insurgencies and incidents of rebellion or piracy; xenos, the alien, long subjugated raise the banners of secession. The Imperium, while on average a peaceful civilization, is increasingly fighting on more and more fronts both militarily, economically, and politically. The Imperial Senate has increasingly polarized into various factions vying for power while the eminence of the Celestial Throne, the Emperorship, has dimmed.
Nova Terra
Imperial Capital
The Imperial Capital, the Throne World, the Heart of the Imperium. A city planet hosting over 800 Billion people, no one could be sure one hundred percent, as no accurate census can be achieved. Hundreds of thousands of starships zipped in and out of the system. Under the watchful gaze of the Home Fleet. Defense stations, FTL inhibitors, and enough firepower to crack a planet was arrayed to defend this one location from the systems outer planetoids to the fiery hell that was Nova Alpha orbiting the bright yellow star Helios Prime. It was a Trinary system, three stars, two main sequence and the other a small white dwarf. Three asteroid belts, and a total of twenty-four planets ranging from gas giants to small frozen wastes. Most where host to mining colonies and refineries. Two other planets where colonized. Hesperidium, an agricultural continental world that directly supplied the Throne World; and Vandora II, a barren world that was rich in minerals. Home to the Imperial Prison Complex of Tartaran.
The lowest levels of Nova Terran bore into the crust of the planet. Lightless, dangerous, home to various beasts and cannibalistic street gangs. Rising up the levels the better things got until you reached the glittering spires of the rich and prosperous. Air traffic in ordered lines sped along carrying anything from freight to private clients. The Imperial District was a singular break in this jungle of steel and concrete. A lush reservation of the planet's former ecosystem and home to the Imperial Palace complex. Covering much of the central continent of the planet. Nova Terra's Oceans long since diminished to a fraction of their former size.
Within the towering complex of marble, gold, jewel studded domes, and silver filigree lines hallways polished to mirror finish. Was the Celestial Throne. Cut entirely out of the most brilliant diamond. On it sat a man with pure white hair, wearing modest clothing, a white flower tucked in his pocket. The Emperor, Baldor, first of his name. Attendants, Courtly figures, and watchful Praetorians milled about or stood guard. He was flicking between data uploaded directly to the small holo-lith before him. Designed to look like a portable coffee table. Its fine dark lacquered, wooden, finish was plain of any metal adornments. Projecting from a small circular metal circle was a holo-page detailing various reports. Video Logs, pictures, and petitions. It was endless. He pressed a red rune shutting down the machine. His mind wandering to a calm, peaceful, relaxing place under a pale sun. He thought of his children, his late wife, and a life of modesty in his writings. His daughter was due to the Senate aright about now.
Imperial Senate
The Senate Hall was less a hall and more an immense hexagonal structure covering forty city blocks. Housing over two thousand Senators at full muster of all the politicians, with various offices and clerical levels, it was a pencil pushers heaven. A hell for the beautiful young woman sitting in one of the countless boxes within the central meeting chamber. Arranged concentrically and outwards the more one reaches the top. It was of such scale that one would have to take a hovercraft to reach the ceiling in any appreciable time. The building had its own climate control and could project holographic skies to the point someone might forget that there was a ceiling. The daily running of the Empire was conducted in this complex, this hallowed hall of legislation and bureaucracy, this red tape hell. There was always meetings, around the clock, of the various committees and sub-committees. Ranging from Civilian FTL license policies to opening a new official trade route to tax levies. It was a never ending affair that she hated unimaginably.
"Shall we get you some coffee mam?" said a hulking armored figure behind her. It was Companion Alarius of the Praetorians. She turned and smiled meekly, "No, no it is fine. Just some water and food will suffice."
"Yes, Your Highness." the hulking figure turned and young girl, an assistant, dashed off to place an order. Yes, the building has its own kitchen staff and amenities. One did not even have to leave the building if they chose too. It had recreational locations, gyms, pools, and internal Arboretum. Private landing pads allowed expedient access to orbit and else ware on the planet.
Thirty minutes later a tray was carted over. It was scanned several times when it came around to the Princess' side. Scanning for poisons, unknown residue, tampering, or worse. Lifting up the silver cover was a steak of the finest quality. Vegetables and a small salad arranged on the sides with a small slice of cake. Thanking the assistant with a nod the young girl withdrew. Her well tailored suit and short skirt vanishing rapidly behind the Princess as she resumed hearing countless speeches and opinions over the buildings speakers. A text scrawl on a holo-screen droned on beside her.
Black Squadron
The angular ships of Black Squadron where orbiting the Gas giant known as 24/G-459 in a star system that also shared a numbered sequence. An uninhabited system of little importance roughly twenty-eight thousand light years away from Nova Terra. The lead ship was the Imperious-Class warship Imperator Somnium. At over eight thousand meters in length and over a thousand at its widest it was a spear in the blackness of space. Thousands of crew both human and automaton kept the ship running. Its reactors silently kept providing thrust. A fleet in of itself, it was the flagship of the Imperial Crown Prince, and the lead ship of Black Squadron. A group of twenty-three vessels often placed under the Princes command for specific tasks.
On the expansive bridge a lone figure stood, admiring the vast blue-green gas giant below them, officers bustled too and fro alongside dozens of naval ratings. Ensigns supervised banks of computers and Lieutenants talked tactical layouts of the fleet. A figure bearing captain pips walked over and bowed curtly.
"What is it Captain?" came the previously lone figures deep voice.
"The Insurgent base has been discovered on Protoma, Your Highness?" Protoma was a backwards colony world. Not yet given the status of an Imperial World and home to about 80,000 people. It was largely desert with a thin equatorial stretch going longitudinal due to the extreme axis of the planet. It was a poor planet. Insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But now it was a center piece in the Prince's mind. The Black Hands, a criminal consortium that had once stretched across the Proxima Sector, and now reduced to a remnant now located on Protoma. Dealing in stolen goods, human trafficking, illicit drugs, and illegal weaponry. It was once a well armed and trained cabal that had begun preying on commercial shipping. Evasion and bribery kept speedy results from occurring by the Sector Governor. But word got out, and the Emperor had been swift to send his son to settle this issue personally.
"Bring me the prisoner."
"Yes, My Lord." the Captain made a motion to an Ensign who began speaking into a wall comm piece. Several minutes later a pair of Guardsmen dragged a beaten, starved, dehydrated, sleep deprived, and tortured individual. Both eyes puffy and blackened from punches, left cheek bone cracked, nails of his right hand pulled out. Several ribs had been broken as well. His left ankle was at an awkward angle. The Guardsmen dropped the man a few meters behind the figure staring down at the gas giant. Like a giant dull gemstone in the blackness of space.
"Your comrades are on Protoma. You lied and said they where here?" The man looked up meekly. Dried blood crusted around his mouth and nostrils. The look in his eyes was all that was needed. The lone figure gave a nod. The man started to scream, a flash of red light, and a fist sized hole was burned in his head. Silencing him. The two Guardsmen dragged the body away to be sent out the airlock. A small squat droid rolled in and began cleaning up the blood that had dripped on the decking.
"Set a course for the Protoma system." said the lone figure turning around, the Captain bowed, and the Prince walked off the bridge.
Several Hours Later
The Protoma system was host to a red giant star, four barren planets, and a single world with a lush equatorial stretch of land. The planet's population was clustered in a series of towns along a hundred mile stretch of the equator. Flashes of blue-silver light and Black Squadron had arrived in orbit. Forming up in geo-synchronous orbit around the equator squadrons of attack craft roared from hanger bays. Their sleek angular frames like darts. Followed by bulky, grey, squat transports. True enough initial scans showed a small unregistered series of structures on the edge of the equatorial stretch 50 miles away from the Northern most city.
Landing with a thunk and the hiss of pressure followed by lowering ramps signaled the inevitable outcome. Guardsmen dashed off the transports to be met by a hail of small arms fire. Low tech solid slugs, hypersonic rounds, and beams from laser rifles quickly turned the arid scenery into a blackened pock-marked hell hole.
"Covering fire!" yelled a Guardsmen as they moved up in squads. Storming the structures simultaneously. There must have been over four hundred Black Hands in the buildings, all armed, all dangerous. A Guardsmen was thrown back, a blackened mark on his shoulder plate, a glancing blow which his armor had saved him from. Getting back up again he ran behind a rock outcropping while other squads poured suppressing fire. The roar of engines filled the sky and a flight of strike craft sleek and grey zipped past. Dropping cylindrical canisters. Thermal bombs. Four buildings collapsed in fiery explosions. Dozens of screams as people burned to death. Jumping from higher levels, running from door ways, their bodies wreathed in flame. Only to be gunned down mercilessly or perhaps in mercy by the Guardsmen. It was all over in fifteen minutes.
Striding through the ruins and wreckage, a figure in golden armor, anti-grav technology worked into the shape of angelic wings on his back. He strode through the burning wreckage to examine dozens of corpses. A white armored Guardsman approached.
"Excellent work Commander. Have we confirmed all of the bodies?"
"Yes, My Lord. We have confirmed the bodies of the Black Hands remaining ring leaders and closest associates matching Imperial Intelligence." replied the Commander holding up a data slate. The Golden Figure, the Crown Prince, looked at it momentarily. "Compile a report to the Emperor detailing our success."
"Yes, Sir."
Black Squadron left Protoma within the hour. But not before purging the planetary administration of its lack of vigilance. A hundred bodies where hung that day.
The Galactic Imperium, the greatest civilization to ever exist, the cradle of culture and humanity. A dominion of trillions stretching the breadth and width of the Milky Way Galaxy. Unrivaled in glory, wealth, and power. The Emperor sits upon the Celestial Throne, the Senate governs in his name, and the Imperial military keeps it safe. But all is not as it seems. The Imperium is crumbling, stagnate for thousands of years, the Senate grown decadent and increasingly fragmented. Should the Imperium fall it would lead to another stellar dark age, another Warring States period, and much would again be lost. For twenty-thousand years it has been the unassailable pillar to hold the light of civilization amid the grasping sea of night's embrace. The pillar is cracking.
It is the twenty-sixth millennium and the Galactic Imperium has spread across the breadth and width of the Milky Way Galaxy. Encompassing approximately fifteen million worlds, deep space stations, asteroid colonies, and outposts. While the Galaxy has billions of star systems, of which the Imperium only possesses a fraction, it is the only civilization left in the Galaxy. All others encountered had been assimilated, conquered, or exterminated from the face of the Galaxy. While there is much still left unexplored, the Galactic Imperium is the light in the dark, but now after more than two hundred centuries this venerable candlelight is beginning to flicker. The Imperium is beset from increasing fronts: economic stagnation brought about by an increasingly stagnant society; increasing insurgencies and incidents of rebellion or piracy; xenos, the alien, long subjugated raise the banners of secession. The Imperium, while on average a peaceful civilization, is increasingly fighting on more and more fronts both militarily, economically, and politically. The Imperial Senate has increasingly polarized into various factions vying for power while the eminence of the Celestial Throne, the Emperorship, has dimmed.
Nova Terra
Imperial Capital
The Imperial Capital, the Throne World, the Heart of the Imperium. A city planet hosting over 800 Billion people, no one could be sure one hundred percent, as no accurate census can be achieved. Hundreds of thousands of starships zipped in and out of the system. Under the watchful gaze of the Home Fleet. Defense stations, FTL inhibitors, and enough firepower to crack a planet was arrayed to defend this one location from the systems outer planetoids to the fiery hell that was Nova Alpha orbiting the bright yellow star Helios Prime. It was a Trinary system, three stars, two main sequence and the other a small white dwarf. Three asteroid belts, and a total of twenty-four planets ranging from gas giants to small frozen wastes. Most where host to mining colonies and refineries. Two other planets where colonized. Hesperidium, an agricultural continental world that directly supplied the Throne World; and Vandora II, a barren world that was rich in minerals. Home to the Imperial Prison Complex of Tartaran.
The lowest levels of Nova Terran bore into the crust of the planet. Lightless, dangerous, home to various beasts and cannibalistic street gangs. Rising up the levels the better things got until you reached the glittering spires of the rich and prosperous. Air traffic in ordered lines sped along carrying anything from freight to private clients. The Imperial District was a singular break in this jungle of steel and concrete. A lush reservation of the planet's former ecosystem and home to the Imperial Palace complex. Covering much of the central continent of the planet. Nova Terra's Oceans long since diminished to a fraction of their former size.
Within the towering complex of marble, gold, jewel studded domes, and silver filigree lines hallways polished to mirror finish. Was the Celestial Throne. Cut entirely out of the most brilliant diamond. On it sat a man with pure white hair, wearing modest clothing, a white flower tucked in his pocket. The Emperor, Baldor, first of his name. Attendants, Courtly figures, and watchful Praetorians milled about or stood guard. He was flicking between data uploaded directly to the small holo-lith before him. Designed to look like a portable coffee table. Its fine dark lacquered, wooden, finish was plain of any metal adornments. Projecting from a small circular metal circle was a holo-page detailing various reports. Video Logs, pictures, and petitions. It was endless. He pressed a red rune shutting down the machine. His mind wandering to a calm, peaceful, relaxing place under a pale sun. He thought of his children, his late wife, and a life of modesty in his writings. His daughter was due to the Senate aright about now.
Imperial Senate
The Senate Hall was less a hall and more an immense hexagonal structure covering forty city blocks. Housing over two thousand Senators at full muster of all the politicians, with various offices and clerical levels, it was a pencil pushers heaven. A hell for the beautiful young woman sitting in one of the countless boxes within the central meeting chamber. Arranged concentrically and outwards the more one reaches the top. It was of such scale that one would have to take a hovercraft to reach the ceiling in any appreciable time. The building had its own climate control and could project holographic skies to the point someone might forget that there was a ceiling. The daily running of the Empire was conducted in this complex, this hallowed hall of legislation and bureaucracy, this red tape hell. There was always meetings, around the clock, of the various committees and sub-committees. Ranging from Civilian FTL license policies to opening a new official trade route to tax levies. It was a never ending affair that she hated unimaginably.
"Shall we get you some coffee mam?" said a hulking armored figure behind her. It was Companion Alarius of the Praetorians. She turned and smiled meekly, "No, no it is fine. Just some water and food will suffice."
"Yes, Your Highness." the hulking figure turned and young girl, an assistant, dashed off to place an order. Yes, the building has its own kitchen staff and amenities. One did not even have to leave the building if they chose too. It had recreational locations, gyms, pools, and internal Arboretum. Private landing pads allowed expedient access to orbit and else ware on the planet.
Thirty minutes later a tray was carted over. It was scanned several times when it came around to the Princess' side. Scanning for poisons, unknown residue, tampering, or worse. Lifting up the silver cover was a steak of the finest quality. Vegetables and a small salad arranged on the sides with a small slice of cake. Thanking the assistant with a nod the young girl withdrew. Her well tailored suit and short skirt vanishing rapidly behind the Princess as she resumed hearing countless speeches and opinions over the buildings speakers. A text scrawl on a holo-screen droned on beside her.
Black Squadron
The angular ships of Black Squadron where orbiting the Gas giant known as 24/G-459 in a star system that also shared a numbered sequence. An uninhabited system of little importance roughly twenty-eight thousand light years away from Nova Terra. The lead ship was the Imperious-Class warship Imperator Somnium. At over eight thousand meters in length and over a thousand at its widest it was a spear in the blackness of space. Thousands of crew both human and automaton kept the ship running. Its reactors silently kept providing thrust. A fleet in of itself, it was the flagship of the Imperial Crown Prince, and the lead ship of Black Squadron. A group of twenty-three vessels often placed under the Princes command for specific tasks.
On the expansive bridge a lone figure stood, admiring the vast blue-green gas giant below them, officers bustled too and fro alongside dozens of naval ratings. Ensigns supervised banks of computers and Lieutenants talked tactical layouts of the fleet. A figure bearing captain pips walked over and bowed curtly.
"What is it Captain?" came the previously lone figures deep voice.
"The Insurgent base has been discovered on Protoma, Your Highness?" Protoma was a backwards colony world. Not yet given the status of an Imperial World and home to about 80,000 people. It was largely desert with a thin equatorial stretch going longitudinal due to the extreme axis of the planet. It was a poor planet. Insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But now it was a center piece in the Prince's mind. The Black Hands, a criminal consortium that had once stretched across the Proxima Sector, and now reduced to a remnant now located on Protoma. Dealing in stolen goods, human trafficking, illicit drugs, and illegal weaponry. It was once a well armed and trained cabal that had begun preying on commercial shipping. Evasion and bribery kept speedy results from occurring by the Sector Governor. But word got out, and the Emperor had been swift to send his son to settle this issue personally.
"Bring me the prisoner."
"Yes, My Lord." the Captain made a motion to an Ensign who began speaking into a wall comm piece. Several minutes later a pair of Guardsmen dragged a beaten, starved, dehydrated, sleep deprived, and tortured individual. Both eyes puffy and blackened from punches, left cheek bone cracked, nails of his right hand pulled out. Several ribs had been broken as well. His left ankle was at an awkward angle. The Guardsmen dropped the man a few meters behind the figure staring down at the gas giant. Like a giant dull gemstone in the blackness of space.
"Your comrades are on Protoma. You lied and said they where here?" The man looked up meekly. Dried blood crusted around his mouth and nostrils. The look in his eyes was all that was needed. The lone figure gave a nod. The man started to scream, a flash of red light, and a fist sized hole was burned in his head. Silencing him. The two Guardsmen dragged the body away to be sent out the airlock. A small squat droid rolled in and began cleaning up the blood that had dripped on the decking.
"Set a course for the Protoma system." said the lone figure turning around, the Captain bowed, and the Prince walked off the bridge.
Several Hours Later
The Protoma system was host to a red giant star, four barren planets, and a single world with a lush equatorial stretch of land. The planet's population was clustered in a series of towns along a hundred mile stretch of the equator. Flashes of blue-silver light and Black Squadron had arrived in orbit. Forming up in geo-synchronous orbit around the equator squadrons of attack craft roared from hanger bays. Their sleek angular frames like darts. Followed by bulky, grey, squat transports. True enough initial scans showed a small unregistered series of structures on the edge of the equatorial stretch 50 miles away from the Northern most city.
Landing with a thunk and the hiss of pressure followed by lowering ramps signaled the inevitable outcome. Guardsmen dashed off the transports to be met by a hail of small arms fire. Low tech solid slugs, hypersonic rounds, and beams from laser rifles quickly turned the arid scenery into a blackened pock-marked hell hole.
"Covering fire!" yelled a Guardsmen as they moved up in squads. Storming the structures simultaneously. There must have been over four hundred Black Hands in the buildings, all armed, all dangerous. A Guardsmen was thrown back, a blackened mark on his shoulder plate, a glancing blow which his armor had saved him from. Getting back up again he ran behind a rock outcropping while other squads poured suppressing fire. The roar of engines filled the sky and a flight of strike craft sleek and grey zipped past. Dropping cylindrical canisters. Thermal bombs. Four buildings collapsed in fiery explosions. Dozens of screams as people burned to death. Jumping from higher levels, running from door ways, their bodies wreathed in flame. Only to be gunned down mercilessly or perhaps in mercy by the Guardsmen. It was all over in fifteen minutes.
Striding through the ruins and wreckage, a figure in golden armor, anti-grav technology worked into the shape of angelic wings on his back. He strode through the burning wreckage to examine dozens of corpses. A white armored Guardsman approached.
"Excellent work Commander. Have we confirmed all of the bodies?"
"Yes, My Lord. We have confirmed the bodies of the Black Hands remaining ring leaders and closest associates matching Imperial Intelligence." replied the Commander holding up a data slate. The Golden Figure, the Crown Prince, looked at it momentarily. "Compile a report to the Emperor detailing our success."
"Yes, Sir."
Black Squadron left Protoma within the hour. But not before purging the planetary administration of its lack of vigilance. A hundred bodies where hung that day.
