Elthinar, residing within his laboratory as he always did, felt the same lack of fear, yet though the battle was but minutes away from starting, he barely gave it a thought — his life was entirely in the hands of others, and as such spending his time worrying about something he couldn't impact would be a waste of himself. Instead, he was entirely focused on two things, both completely separate from the upcoming battle, and perhaps even more difficult to achieve a positive outcome in: perfecting the ship-mounted alien detector, and trying to understand Xalina — Lassarha's chief scientist, someone who was difficult to collaborate with, and a woman whom Elthinar was certain hadn't seen a human face in decades. Her name was mythical, her unknown visage the stuff of nightmares, her scientific exploits the stuff of legend; Elthinar had heard from rumors that Xalina was hard to comprehend before he had even started trying to do so, and for once, the rumors had understated the truth.
Having spent 20 minutes poring over inane phrases that read as if they had been fed through fifteen different, equally terrible translators for esoteric planetary dialects, and then spat back out in Galactic Standard, Elthinar had begun to think that the only thing the legendary Xalina knew how to do which related to text or other people was write meticulous, incoherent scientific reports. Indeed, people had cited Elthinar's poor social skill to explain his maritally uncommitted status, but even his poor talent in this area dwarfed Xalina's a million times over; judging by what she was writing, it looked as if she hadn't interacted with another person in centuries, and this made attempting to collaborate on such a project amazingly difficult. How could he hope to understand phrases such as "PHOTON TERMINATION SECONDARY EXPANSION FACT ACTION NEED INSTANT ALIEN WARY OBJECT INTERFACE ADVISED" — a sentence which had been produced after Elthinar had asked her to clarify, five times? Such a sentence sounded ominous, but even so-called 'Xalinologists' would have difficulty with such a phrase, and if it weren't for the fact that Xalina had been instrumental in over five hundred thirty three important scientific discoveries, Elthinar would think her an insane idiot. As it stood, he simply thought her an insane genius.
Of course, there was always the issue of his little plan to destroy the universe, a plan that was a step closer to fruition with a theory he had recently generated, though it was, at best, a theory unproven: Elthinar needed to have peer confirmation that he was doing insane things in a sane way, before he went ahead and tried to destroy the universe, lest he do it improperly.
Elthinar then stopped himself for a moment and pondered — if his past self could see him now hoping that he had found a way to destroy the entire universe, what would he think?
Elthinar scoffed: hypothetical scenarios such as that were only good at generating self-doubt, something that never permitted decisive, brutal action, the kind of that was needed during such desperate times. Or, perhaps, the kind of action that he had convinced himself was needed...
Elthinar forcibly stopped himself again: self-doubt and all that was not good, and even if he wasn't trying to blow up the universe, this doubt would prevent him from concentrating on more important things.
Then, as he wrestled with both one of Xalina's inane "sentences," and the decision of whether or not to simply give up on trying to understand her and instead to just tackle the problem alone as he had been doing, Elthinar spontaneously generated an idea: Xalina was, without a doubt, scientifically brilliant, and he needed to confirm a theory he had about his 'project' without alerting anyone else to his galaxy-ending plan. This was an inherent problem with his conspiracy, as a core part of science was cooperation, though someone who was as isolated and connotation-deaf as Xalina would likely not suspect a thing if Elthinar asked her the question he had been wrestling with, thus enabling him to gain the information he needed without attracting attention. As it was, Xalina was perfect, for even if she did try to inform others of his plot, there was little chance of them understanding her.
As for his plan to circumvent physics, Elthinar's concept was relatively simple: he thought that he could generate a "Quantum Death Bubble" from inside the Remnant, where it would travel at the speed of light, within a medium where any amount of conventional distance travelled was equivalent to a much more distance travelled in normal space, yet whose Higgs field was seemingly intertwined with that of normal reality. As such, the universe could well be utterly obliterated within weeks, or even days; the Milky Way and everything within it, the aliens included, would be reduced to a soup of particles within moments — that was, if Elthinar's understanding of the Remnant, and of the QDB, was correct.
As Elthinar dispatched his questioning textcomm to Xalina, all he did was simply wish silently that he was right; for the sake of the human race, in his universe or the next, if he was ever to be correct, it had to be then. A moment later, he received the most coherent sentence from Xalina that he had read all day, for it read "REMNANT INTERFACE HIGGS DISTORTION BUBBLE RESULTS TERMINATION OF UNIVERSE 89% CERTAINTY MINUS END RESULT."
With a bit of effort, Elthinar interpreted that as her saying that the QDB would react with the Remnant in such a way as to destroy the universe with 89% certainty — perhaps the most glowing endorsement his plan had received to date. As he read and re-read the message, Elthinar's metallic lips curled into a maniacal smile as best they could: a "termination of universe" with 89% certainty? He had been counting on such a thing!
Giving his thanks to Xalina, though Elthinar couldn't be entirely certain that she understood or cared for it, Elthinar then received an excited textcomm from his laboratory: the long-range alien detector prototype, a combination of his and Xalina's efforts, had been tested, and, for the first time, the prototype succeeded, spectacularly. No longer would humanity be completely blind to alien infiltrators, and, if things went particularly well, Elthinar wouldn't even have to try and achieve the "termination of universe." The detector's design was so large and unwieldy that it was impossible for infantry to use, but at least it would stop the war from being lost within the month. Sending the prototype blueprint to Farlina for refining — something he found came with much less apprehension than it once did — Elthinar referred the good news to Xertaza, and Ikalhra, the prime military industrialist of Lassarha's empire: the latter said she would have the means to deploy the alien detector Empire-Wide shortly after the battle of Nahmatiix, while the former simply offered curt, almost impatient congratulations. Replying graciously to both of them, Elthinar moved on to the next task he had been assigned, though he did so with far more spring in his mechanical step than he had before — his scientific triumph in the realm of the alien detector had given him hope that he wouldn't need to employ his other scientific triumph, and though the war was still going horribly, it was no longer, in his mind, hopeless. As the battle of Nahmatiix approached, Elthinar returned to the business of modifying weapons to better destroy humanity's greatest foe, fearless of the death that may have awaited him in normal space, for fear was inefficient.
***
The pungent scent of blood clung to the air, as marines and enforcers took turns covering their armor in the gruesome liquid, making themselves all the more terrifying to behold; the chanting of battle-eager enforcers reached a deafening volume that threatened to be heard in the Ineffable's bridge itself, and Osilarzan, overwhelmed with anticipation, could do nothing but dream of the great day of butchery and slaughter that awaited him. Heralax Tekran, in his mind, had one major problem: he was still in one piece. Osilarzan, being the kind gentleman that he was, intended to fix this for him.
Of course, the "gilded tyrant" had figured out his strategies, planned his tactics, and drilled his troops, long before the battle was this close to its beginning. Should the Nahmatiixers try to board his ship they would be massacred in minutes, and should he be ordered to attack the Harbinger, Heralax Tekran's own flagship, he would stand a fair chance of success, though this was as far as his planning went. The issue with being the general of a warship's army was that where one fought and when was entirely at the whim of whatever captain one was under the command of, and this made it impossible to prepare for anything well in advance, besides by drilling one's soldiers to the breaking point, and motivating them by whipping them to their breaking point. Whatever tactics or strategies Osilarzan was to use in the upcoming battle for control of the galaxy would have to be improvised, for while the surprising number of army transports accompanying the Loyalist armada had no place in Lassarha's strategy, not even the most optimistic admiral foresaw every facet of the Loyalist plan succeeding as it was intended to. Many others saw this as an impediment or problem; Osilarzan relished it, for in his mind, a perfectly-planned battle was a battle without surprises, and a battle without surprises was a mundane affair. While he splattered his gilded helmet with yet more synthetic blood, making his visage somehow even more grisly and terrifying than it was before, Osilarzan heard the chanting of "Urkah" around him, and, ordering most of his enforcers to board their HSDPs, he joined in the bloodthirsty chorus. The thunderous, booming orchestra of rhythmically stomping enforcer feet echoed throughout the corridors of the Ineffable, as well as those of the tens of thousands of troop-transports of the Loyalist armada; whereas the navy awaited the climax of the upcoming war with bated breath, the seasoned, adrenaline-addled army, eager for an outlet for its boundless vengeance, was, for the most part, jubilant. Doubtless, the ground-engagements and boarding actions of the battle of Nahmatiix would be as bloody and vicious as their naval counterparts, though Osilarzan, convinced he had a part to play, couldn't be happier. The Ineffable hurtled towards a place that would be the demise of many — who was to die was equally in the capable hands of those about to fight, and the cruel, intoxicated hands of chance.
***
The majesty of Nahmatiix, perhaps for the first time in its history, had an apt rival, Heralax thought — his fleet. Blanketing the skies above every world in the system, tens of millions of glistening warships from across the galaxy, manned by billions of loyal, motivated sailors, stood ready to repulse the invasion of the so-called 'Loyalists'. "Yes," thought Heralax, "My officer corps is lacking, my admiralty is lacking, and indeed, the legality of my claim to the throne may be lacking"—Heralax scoffed audibly, taking a step forwards on the Harbinger's bridge as he took in the sight of his loyal crew laboring to bring him victory—"but my cause, my strength, and my righteousness are the envy of any of those traitors!"
At the very thought of Lassarha, or indeed, of Tehkria, Heralax felt compelled to spit; maintaining exceptional self-restraint, he only let loose a grunt, one that was scarcely noticed among his busy crew members — and they were busy for a reason. The Harbinger, and Heralax by extension, lay just behind the front lines: he could be imperator, or he could be a coward, but he could not be both. Half the galaxy believed in his cause, believed in him — he could not let them down. The human race would endure, and with his stewardship, it would be remade. This all assumed that the battle of Nahmatiix was won, but this was scarcely a concern of the man: he had more ships than his foe by a margin of tens of millions, he had powerful planetary defences, he had reinforcements, he had the EWCC, and, though his antimatter mines had been a disappointing failure, he had the strongest weapon of all: the people of Nahmatiix. With literally billions of civilians on the surface of the world below willing to take to the skies and fight in the name of their imperator and consul, it was indeed hard to imagine him losing the upcoming clash. Allowing his ears to bathe in the sounds of his bridge, and his eyes to bask in the glory of the world that he had helped lead to greatness, Heralax, without warning, opened a verbal channel to the entire system.
"People of Nahmatiix, people of the Empire, heed my words; humanity's victory awaits. Once the stain of treason is wiped from our galaxy today, so too shall we eradicate the alien scourge with the strength of our restored state, but make no mistake — this battle must be won first!"
His bridge, pausing its work to listen, let loose a vehement cheer; Heralax grinned, and, his booming voice seeming as if it would carry his righteous words into the void itself, continued,
"Unlike Lassarha, I will not lie to you: this battle will not be won without blood, this battle will not be won without sacrifice, and neither will the Alien War that follows. The First Imperator said that sacrifice turns the wheels of progress, and he was right: we cannot save our species or drive back the aliens without great cost, but by the Empire, these are things we must do! To wage war against our fellow humans and Tekran while the alien scourge besieges world after world is as wrong as anything can be, but Lassarha started this civil war, and I intend to end it — personally. When this battle commences, I, on my flagship, will fight alongside you, like any true imperator should! This galaxy will be preserved with our victory, and then it will be remade as it always should have been. We all know our cause; we know why we fight, we know why we must win, and we know what awaits every man, woman, and child amongst our stars if we should fail. As soldiers of humanity, we need no more motivation. When this battle arrives, abide by the words of your captains, of your admirals, and of your imperator. Hold the line, hold this system, drench your ships in traitor blood and slay the monster Lassarha — then this galaxy will finally realize the strength of you, and of your cause!"
His voice an unsubdued roar, Heralax proclaimed, while his bridge's cheers struggled to match the intensity of his passion, "Humanity endures!"
All across the system, this same phrase was chanted; the fleet of Heralax Tekran, known to many as "Prime Traitor," and known to many others as "My imperator," stood ready to defend their capital system alongside their ruler — as it would seem, Lassarha was not the galaxy's only fine orator, and Tehkria was not the only mighty planet. Truly, Heralax had reason to be confident, and Lassarha unnerved; though he may not have begun plotting his rebellion with the most selfless of intentions, as he now stood at the precipice of true imperatorship, he had become the passionate, ambitious, courageous man his followers had long since perceived him to be. If peacetime were upon the galaxy and he was heir, all of humanity would think "Such a man would make a fine imperator." In the coming day, should the battle go the only way it possibly could, all of humanity would begin to think "Such a man is a fine imperator."
***
The bridge of Prime Admiral Terilan's ship — named "Steadfast" — surrounded him, its vastness, and the vastness of the ship it controlled, helping to assuage the fears of those who were still crippled by unease, of which there were surprisingly few; this was thanks in part to the courage of his crew, but was also thanks to the courage bestowed by MECS. The atmosphere of the room was tense, uncertain, yet bearable; there existed a low ambient hum of conversation that effectively straddled the line between being so deathly quiet it was unnerving, and being sufficiently loud to interrupt concentration. Without question, it was the perfect atmosphere for last-minute preparation, and for making peace with oneself and one's decisions.
The Loyalist fleet had arrived above Nahmatiix's relative position in the Remnant, and it lingered there while a few disorganized ships found their breaching positions; Nahmatiixian reinforcements that had been streaming towards Nahmatiix were holding off from trying to enter the system with the Loyalist fleet surrounding it, giving Terilan the time to prepare his assault in peace. Doubtless, once Lassarha's fleet had breached into the system, these Traitor reinforcements would begin to flood in, but Terilan was more concerned with the traitorous forces that were already present in Nahmatiix, rather than any conscripted stragglers who had yet to even make it to the battlefield.
The Loyalist fleet's pre-battle maneuvering was almost complete, and as the battle drew ever nearer, Terilan grew more and more impatient — battles themselves did not bother him to any great degree, as he could affect their outcome, but idling outside of Heralax's system when, at any moment, his foe could burst out from normal space and attack his fleet while it prepares? His vast susceptibility to such a surprise maneuver put him on edge.
Regardless, Terilan had a cure for being on edge — everyone did, and it was called MECS. Increasing his dosage of the divine drug, Terilan found his critical thinking enhanced as his worries, fears, and anxieties were decisively routed, allowing him to wield far greater focus on the lack of action that had engaged him so thoroughly for the past ten minutes. So tense, so prepared for a fight was he, that when a hypersphere nearby burst open and someone entirely unexpected walked through, Terilan instinctively reached for his coil-pistol, before consciously stopping himself from accidentally shooting the member of the Military Council who had just walked onto his bridge.
Instead of shooting her, Terilan stammered confusedly, "Otelesia?! What are you doing on my bridge? Come to think of it, what are you doing in this fleet?"
Replying simply with a dissatisfied frown, Otelesia walked about five paces towards Terilan and then replied, "Yes, that's my name, I'm here because I want to speak with you — why else — and I'm in this fleet because the civilian branch of the government is determined to both ensure that the military does not needlessly destroy the human worlds they conquer, and to make it clear to all that even though we may not wield weapons, those in the civilian government are not cravens who won't even watch the greatest battle of our time. While you reunite the galaxy, those I represent will, in conjunction with our imperator, ensure it stays united, and willingly so; I observe this upcoming battle to, as I have for most of my career, observe and represent. The only difference between this and what I've done for the past fifteen years is that now I stand a much higher chance of dying while I perform my sacred duty."
Terilan, still somewhat shocked, though he had regained his composure, quickly asked, "And what is it that you want to speak to me about?"
Otelesia gestured to an idling sailor sitting nearby, doubtlessly sending a textcomm to them at the same time, because the next moment the crewman nodded their head and yielded their seat. Sitting down, Otelesia replied, "You're about to invade a planet, with hundreds of billions of people living on it, a rich cultural history, and vast industrial power that could be utilized for our war against the scourge, and for the reconstruction afterwards! I represent the civilian interests of the Empire: what else could I want to discuss?"
"Fair enough" Terilan replied, "So, what is it that you want me to do? Give you my assurances that I'll do my best to avoid damaging infrastructure and killing billions of non-combatants? I believe I've done this already — as has every member of the Military Council — but out of respect for you, fine: you have my word that I'll try"
"Excellent," was Otelesia's reply. She opened her mouth as if to say something, and the faintest, whispered beginnings of a word passed her lips, but she caught herself; evidently she had decided against disclosing whatever information she was so close to sharing. Terilan was intrigued by the near-display of gratitude, but decided against pressing her on it, realizing that he was unlikely to gain much information from trying. Otelesia then spoke again, saying, "It seems that battle is imminent, then — I will return to the VIP section, and Terilan..."—She leaned forward slightly—"the civilian branch rarely approves of warfare, and often prefers diplomacy as a means of resolving disputes, but in this you and Lassarha have our full support; when it comes to the Traitors' warships or their leader, hold nothing back."
"You have my word on that as well," Terilan replied, faintly smiling.
As Otelesia walked to the nearest hypersphere, she paused and turned to look at Terilan; giving him a tender, knowing smile, she then clambered into a hypersphere, and was gone the next instant.
The moment after her departure, Lassarha's Loyalist armada, having spent the last ten minutes organizing itself, reported unanimously that it was ready for the imminent battle. Not wasting a moment, Terilan interfaced with his digital desk, and as the room around him faded to a digital space of numbers and graphical representations of the battlefield surrounding him, Terilan felt nothing but utter confidence. Ordering elements of the fleet to make their breaches in isolated parts of the Nahmatiix system, Terilan began executing the Loyalists' plan, working in conjunction with thousands of other admirals and vice admirals to do this flawlessly. Moments later, the Loyalist armada was bathed in glorious red light; this was not the light of anything in the Remnant, but the Light of Nahmatiix's enormous star, a resplendent celestial object that appeared far more familiar to the people of the Loyalist fleet than the alien void of the Remnant ever could — a cruel coincidence, when one considered that billions of them would soon perish within sight of the uncaring body. The opening moves of the battle were being made, and after a few seconds, the first few hundred ships had already been destroyed: the result of the clash was now to be determined by the quality of the strategies and tactics of those in command, along with the tenacity, prowess, and wits of the rank-and-file amongst both armadas. The winner was to receive the galaxy, and the desperate war for the survival of the human race; everything was at stake, and no matter what happened, one thing was certain:
Human blood would paint the cosmos and drown the stars on that day.
***
"We've already won: the entire galaxy has been in our possession for thousands of years, the human race is united, and internal strife is all but nonexistent. What foes are your 'rebuilt military' going to protect us against?"
— Kesaldax Tekran, dismissing someone proposing an expansion of the armed forces, nine years before the Alien War