Echoes of Harmony

Imperial Command

New Athens, Hyperia

3 November 3296

The primary war room within Imperial Command near the Hyperion capitol building was nothing short of extravagant. Built to plan operations around nearly a quarter of the Milky Way, its opulence was well deserved. In its center sat a holographic projector fifteen meters wide and just as long. Surrounding it was a large circular table joined by dozens of chairs for when the Council met to conduct meetings. The computer within the projector possessed the ability to display in high fidelity the entirety of the Hyperion Empire’s territory—all seventeen hundred and fifty three primary colonies and countless outposts—among the sea of billions of stars, each a tiny pinprick of light.

The sight of the massive territory with a backdrop of the Hyperion flag always brought a swell of pride to Legate Marius Habricht, supreme commander of the Hyperion military. However, the few dozen holdouts of various colors scattered throughout the territory—such as canary yellow for the planet Siatia, forest green for Lerlyn, and cerulean blue for Stariek—drew a scowl from him. All of humanity deserved to be united under one banner. That’s how it stood strongest. The Solar Empire understood that, and their failure paved the way for Hyperion success.

Hopefully today’s meeting would be the first step towards a long awaited reunification.

Sitting in the chairs and standing where there was room near the edges of the room was the full Council of Hyperia. Military leaders in the form of lesser legates and generals mixed with the political leaders of the empire: senators and councilors. Each of them had a digital tablet in front of them for taking notes and searching information. If Habricht had his way, the politicians would never set foot in this chamber. Those who hadn’t seen the horrors of war, who hadn’t experienced losing their best friends on the battlefield, had no purpose making military decisions. Even the thought of it nearly brought a snarl to his face.

However, the Emperor deemed it necessary to allow them access. For the people’s sake, he had said. Something Habricht learned long ago was when the Emperor says something, you do it. No matter what personal feelings you held.

Around the perimeter of the room was a contingent of soldiers—robotic guards with piercing red eyes and assault rifles cradled in their arms. No meeting Habricht carried out had necessitated them yet, and it was his goal to keep it as such.

The Emperor himself sat at one end of the room on a balcony overlooking the chamber. His position enabled him to keep an eye on all preparations being done as well as the people within. He wore black robes with a gold filigree lining the center. A cape, red on one side and white on the other, hung from his shoulders. Covering his face was a white mask with stylized flames at the edges. Habricht resisted to urge to shake his head at this last piece. Despite how he felt about the Emperor’s choice of attire, if he made his feelings known, he was sure to be executed. And he rather enjoyed his life.

As the final attendees filtered into the room and took their seats, Habricht turned away from the map and folded his hands behind his back. He marched around the central projector to ensure he looked each of them in the eye.

“Greetings, everyone,” he said. Speakers around the room connected to his CAM to amplify his voice for all to hear. A few people returned the welcome, though many simply scowled at him. This brought a slight smile to his face. He made plenty of enemies in his rise to power after all, but that did not bring concern. They were nothing more than toothless vermin compared to him. “Let’s get right into it, shall we? I called this war council for one main purpose: to effect a change in the galaxy to finally begin the reunification of the human colonies under one banner.”

With a thought, the projection changed to zoom in on one planet in particular: the small blue dot representing Stariek. A series of data points from planet diameter to population to rotation period appeared next to the blue and green orb that was reminiscent of Earth. One piece of data Habricht ensured was highlighted was the number of defense satellites, as well as estimated military strength.

“Stariek was among the signatories who seceded from the Solar Empire and formed the Praesidium Union several hundred years ago. However, when Hyperion control was inevitable, they withdrew and became more isolated.” Habricht continued to circle the table, watching the facial expressions of each of the council members. Some were inscrutable while others made it clear of their agreement or lack thereof. “Ever since, they have remained outside our influence. Yet they benefit from trade with our merchants. They gain access to technology we develop. All while giving us nothing in return. It is time for us to finally claim what is ours and take control of the planet. I propose sending the Seventh Fleet to the planet as a show of force to frighten their leader, Provost Hayden Reid, into agreeing to join our glorious empire. If they should refuse, then we will take their planet by force.”

Legate Habricht stopped speaking but continued to circle the projector. The council members were going to have questions, he was sure of it. He learned long ago there was no point going in depth with his campaign suggestions. It was impossible to predict every question to be asked; therefore, it was better to get the basics out of the way and answer those that came up.

To no one’s surprise, especially not Marius Habricht, the first person to ask a question was Councilor Harald Feilhaber. The man was always an outspoken opponent of Habricht’s plans, no matter what they consisted of.

“Legate, what strategic value does Stariek hold?” Feilhaber folded his hands in front of his mouth with his elbows on the table. He rose one eyebrow at Habricht as if carefully studying him. “What would Hyperia stand to gain by taking control of the currently independent planet?”

“I’m glad you asked, Councilor.” With a thought, the image floating above the projector table shifted to show a rock. Steady pulses throughout the mineral caused it to seem like it was crackling with lightning. “This is a relatively newer discovery known as tritinium. It is a naturally occurring element, though it has only been found in trace amounts—only enough for basic tests to be done—throughout the Empire. However, Stariek, for some reason unknown to us, has vast quantities under their surface. Enough to power an empire spanning the galaxy such as our own. They currently only use it to power their planet, but our scientists have determined it can also have impressive effects when used as a weapon. If we take over their planet, we will, of course, have access to their mines, as well as the ability to scale up production.”

“What sort of defenses does Stariek possess?” The question came from General Liliana Kindler, a young woman who quickly ingratiated herself with Habricht and became his protégé. “How many ships should we expect?”

“There are approximately five hundred defense satellites in orbit around the planet, though a proper attack would ensure there are only around fifty within range at any given time. These are antiquated—perhaps a hundred and fifty years out of date—but they can still pose a threat to our forces. From our best intelligence on the planet, they have two primary fleets with rotating crews, one for defense of the immediate planet and one for patrolling the system.” Habricht brought up a projection of a group of ships. They rotated in the air, allowing the Council to get a full view of the designs. “The fleets seem to consist of a battleship as the flag with escorts of frigates and cruisers. Armaments of standard neutron beams, magnetic cannons, and missile bays. About twenty ships are in each of the fleets. Their home defense fleet also has access to a carrier with the hangar space for approximately two hundred and fifty fighters and sixty bombers.”

The projection shifted to show the form of a carrier and a facsimile of dozens of ships flying out of the hangar on the side. As it did so, Councilor Feilhaber raised two fingers as a way of getting the legate’s attention, a smug grin on his face. Habricht sighed inwardly but was careful to not let the displeasure show on his face. With a nod, he acknowledged the man.

“Legate, you said you wished to send the Seventh Fleet in to convince them to join us.” Habricht barely had the chance to nod before the Councilor continued, “The Seventh Fleet consists of nearly two hundred warships of varying designs and classes, if I’m not mistaken. If you are correct in your intelligence, there are fewer than four dozen enemy vessels across the entire system. Why should we devote such a large contingent to this backwater system?”

“I can think of two reasons for doing so, councilor. The furthest known extent of the Druthagar is near the Draconis system.” The spacefaring Dwarven race known as the Druthagar were longtime enemies of Hyperia. They were the only force in the galaxy capable of halting Hyperion expansion, a feat they managed more than once. “There are also reports of Druthagar attacks in their system, though they have been keeping this hushed up. Having a larger force available ensures they won’t attempt any hit and run attacks that will leave the ships dispatched in tatters.”

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Councilor Feilhaber scoffed, apparently unable to come up with a rebuttal to that argument.

“What’s your second excuse, Legate?” Feilhaber asked, grinding out the words.

“Shock and awe, Councilor. Surely you have heard the phrase once or twice in this room.” Habricht leaned against the holoprojector and folded his arms across his chest as a wave of laughter briefly spread through the congregation. “We control the largest empire the human race has ever formed. We have the power to completely wipe their pitiful planet out of the galaxy. Why not use it to show Stariek they’re going to end up on the wrong side of a very sharp stick if they refuse our demands?”

“Do you have any idea how much it would cost to send the entire fleet to this planet?” Feilhaber punched a few values into his tablet then held it up. “Nearly ten billion credits, not including the cost of any armaments spent in the event of a conflict. Nearly ten billion credits on what amounts to a pointless endeavor.”

“That’s funny, Councilor,” Habricht replied, starting to speak before Feilhaber even finished the sentence. “If my memory serves me correctly, and it nearly always does, you were one of the primary proponents for the last campaign against the Druthagar a decade ago. On the other hand, I was adamantly against it. Remind me how that ended. How much did that cost? How pointless was that endeavor?”

The councilor’s face turned red, and his features contorted in rage. Habricht couldn’t help but allow a small grin at the irony. The debacle of a conflict—it didn’t deserve the honor of being called a war—resulted in the deaths of just under two hundred thousand Hyperion soldiers and the loss of almost the entire Ninth Fleet. It also nearly cost Habricht his position and life. Only by the kind heart—if it could even be described as such—of the Emperor was he spared. He couldn’t help but look up at the figure now, though his features were inscrutable under the mask.

“How dare you?” The councilor’s voice was a whisper, and it sounded as if he put every bit of venom he could muster into the words.

“No, how dare you, Councilor, for subjecting our forces—our people—to such a failure. It was a blight on our society.” Habricht sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He paced from one end of the projector to the other, looking over the others. “We are getting off track, though. The purpose of this meeting is to either authorize or reject my proposal for taking over Stariek, not spit barbs at one another for past failures. Now, I have outlined a brief of my plan. Are there any other questions relating to the topic?”

Silence was the only answer.

“Then I propose we bring it to a standard vote, as per the customs of the Council.” He commanded the images on the holoprojector to disappear, and the machine turned off. “On your tablets you will find the proposal. Feel free to read as much as necessary and ask any questions as they come up.”

With that, he brought up the vote tallies in the corner of his vision. Habricht was only somewhat surprised to find the ‘No’ column had already incremented, though any amount of this disappeared when he saw Feilhaber with his arms folded and a smirk on his face. He returned the expression with as genuine a smile as he could manage, which hurt his cheeks from lack of use.

Slowly, the votes rolled in over the next several minutes, and the ‘Yes’ votes easily exceeded the majority required to approve the operation. Habricht nodded approvingly as he closed the chart on his CAM and returned his attention to the assembly.

“With the approval of this Council now in place, I will make arrangements to mobilize the Seventh Fleet. Legates, generals, councilors, you may take your leave. I bid you good day. General Zorn, if I may have a word with you before you return to your duties.”

Habricht saluted by bringing his right fist to the left side of his chest, a gesture that was returned by those military leaders who were already standing before they made their way towards the exit. Feilhaber scowled at the legate one last time as he whispered to Legate David Ganex, another of Habricht’s longtime opponents, on the way out. A brief thought of what they may be talking about crossed his mind, though the arrival of General Augusta Zorn brought his attention back.

“General Zorn reports as ordered, sir,” the man ground out. His hair was gray in spots and cut short per regulations. He was amongst the oldest generals in the empire, passed over time and time again for promotion to legate despite his achievements in the field. Naturally, this left him at least slightly bitter over reporting to a man who was nearly a decade younger than him. “How may I serve the empire?”

“You don’t have to worry about watching your language with me, Augusta.” Habricht gestured to the empty room. “We’re alone. We both know you find it aggravating, to say the least, that even Ganex was promoted to legate before you, and you are right to feel cheated.”

“The fool.” Zorn scoffed and shook his head. “I know it is not my place to say so, but the empire can do so much better than the likes of Ganex and Feilhaber. If they had their way, we would be on our way back to that filthy flavor of democracy that nearly brought the downfall of the entire human race.”

“The Praesidium Union is the reason that we have been able to achieve what we have, despite its shortcomings.” Habricht wrapped an arm around Zorn and guided him towards the nearest set of doors. The man tensed but allowed himself to be directed. “But enough about the past. I wanted to speak to you privately about a particular part of my plan that is carefully hidden in the official report. From what I have seen of your work, you are the most well-suited to carry this out without drawing undue attention.”

“How may I carry out your will, legate?” Zorn asked, inclining his head slightly in curiosity.

“Not my will, general. The Empire’s.” Habricht smiled slightly and winked. “But, no need to jump right into business. How has your position change been? It’s been most of a year. How are you enjoying working in personnel?”

“If I may speak plainly, sir?” Zorn looked to Habricht, who nodded his approval. “It is beneath me. There is little opportunity to utilize those skills I have honed in service to our society. I can accomplish so much more out there among the ranks of our powerful navy.”

“I agree completely, General.” Habricht stopped for a moment and turned to face Zorn. He had cast the line, and he didn’t want to frighten the fish away. “It is for that reason I wanted to offer you this opportunity. I spoke with Rausch, and he has agreed to allow this temporary position change. If you perform well, we will reconsider your permanent location. Perhaps something greater could come your way.”

Habricht saw the glimmer of hope in the other man’s eyes and knew he had him where he wanted him.

“What is the mission, sir?”

“There is a boy on Stariek. The University of Siatia, particularly one of their adjuncts, Ardus Kaine, have released some studies about unique blood mutations that they discovered. Supposedly, it is incredibly rare, with only perhaps one in a trillion displaying it. I have reason to believe this boy may be that one, and the Singularity has come to the same conclusion.”

“The Singularity.” Zorn said the name with a snarl and shake of his head. “Nothing more than cowards that hide in shadows like rats. If only Legates Kova and Zephyr had done away with their leader when they met with him.”

“You’ll find no disagreement from me.” Habricht walked with Zorn out into the hallway, and they slowly made their way down it. Closed doors were carefully spaced along either wall. Robotic guards stood as sentries, drawing a displeased look from the legate. “Regardless, I wish to see if we may be able to determine what is special about him. This would also be an ideal time to trial our new training program.”

Zorn rose an eyebrow at the statement.

“I thought Legate Rausch canceled that years ago. Are you asking me to go over his head?”

“Augusta, I am asking you to help usher in a new era of Hyperion supremacy. Besides, I have talked to the legate. He has agreed to let you off your desk duty and back into the field, so to speak.” Habricht stopped, prompting Zorn to as well. The legate gripped the general’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “If the rumors I have heard are true, we need to transition away from bots sooner rather than later. Better to start now and ask forgiveness when we’re right. Besides, I am sure you’re well aware I can be rather… persuasive. Besides, this could be the final push to get you your promotion after all these years.”

“Very well, sir.” Habricht saw the brief gleam return to Zorn’s eyes at the mention of becoming a legate. “Who is the boy?”

“He’s actually the son of their leader. His name is Skylar Reid, and he goes to Silver Ridge Academy in the capital, Mornage.” As Habricht spoke, he started a direct transmission of all files on the Reid family to Zorn’s CAM. Their spy in the government had produced much more information for them than he expected, including a surprise Stariek would surely discover sooner rather than later. “Our intelligence indicates they are going to their mountain cabin for the holiday starting on the twenty-first. This will likely be your most opportune moment to strike.”

“That leaves us just under three weeks to get into position.” Zorn’s eye twitched as if reading something, presumably as he started going through the data he received. “Am I in charge of this operation then?”

“Unfortunately not. That honor belongs to Legate Zephyr. However, you are going to be in command of an advance squadron, taking three Predator-class strike cruisers and a Tempest-class battleship as your flagship. The Wagener is a beautiful vessel with only a few years under its belt, so do your best not to scratch the paint, would you?”

“Of course, sir,” Zorn said, a smirk coming to his lips. “It is my honor to lead this squadron.”

“Indeed, it is an honor.” Habricht clasped his hands behind his back. “The rest of the Seventh Fleet is to arrive on the second of December. I would like you to secure the planet before then by any means necessary. And if the boy finds himself captured for testing by then as well…”

“It will be done.”

Zorn saluted, bringing his heels together with a click. Habricht briefly returned it before turning and walking off down the hallway.

“Your ship is waiting, General. You’re dismissed.”

Countless thoughts ran through Habricht’s mind as he marched away. Foremost of all was, what was so special about the boy? No matter what it took, he was going to find out.

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