"History is a set of lies agreed upon." - Napoleon Bonaparte
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"..., Please proceed to the designated briefing room immediately.""...Please proceed to the designated briefing room immediately."
Lirica Barnett jolted awake.
Her form suggested she was a young woman, in case some people didn't notice because of the race difference.
The sudden announcement echoed in her mind, disrupting what had been a well-rested sleep.
She blinked, taking a moment to adjust. Her back arched slightly from leaning against her desk for too long. It wasn't the first time she had dozed off here.
(A/N: Polish war thunder arch your backkkkk༼;´༎ຶ ༎ຶ༽)
She pushed herself upright and looked around.
The Imperial Library stretched endlessly in every direction. Towering shelves lined the walls, each packed with neatly arranged records, some as physical manuscripts, others stored in sleek data tablets, their interfaces dormant until activated. The structure itself was massive, built to house knowledge from entire civilizations.
The ceiling, almost sky high, was supported by dark metallic beams that reflected the ambient glow of floating display panels. These panels flickered occasionally, adjusting their projections to update indexes and cataloged information.
The air was still, completely sterile—no dust, no scent. Not a single sign of decay or neglect. The environment was perfectly maintained, as expected.
Rows of reading stations were arranged in precise formation, each equipped with holographic interfaces for instant data retrieval. The screens displayed shifting symbols and diagrams, translating ancient scripts into modern formats.
Dim ambient lights lined the floor, casting a soft glow against the polished surface. The reflection of the ceiling displays shimmered faintly across the smooth material, giving the impression of walking on a sheet of dark glass.
Despite its efficiency, the library's sheer scale made it feel overwhelming. Everything had its place, every record meticulously categorized for quick retrieval, but the vastness of the space had a way of making even its most frequent visitors feel small.
Lirica exhaled, rubbing her temples.
A few days ago, in a certain book she read that before the Asterrans abandoned their biological bodies, they needed sleep to recover from fatigue no matter the race. It was a natural process for maintaining their bodies.
Out of curiosity, she had tried sleeping and followed the steps herself, and to her surprise, it worked. She wasn't even sure why, but it left her feeling refreshed in a way she hadn't expected. She made a mental note to tell her teacher about it later.
She glanced at the book still open on her desk. It had details on how the old race, when creating their naturally biological descendants, required intercour—,
Before she could finish the thought, the announcement repeated.
"…, Please proceed to the designated briefing room immediately. All assigned personnel must report without delay. Further instructions will be provided upon arrival."
Right. The briefing room.
She let out a quiet sigh, then stood up. There was no point in delaying.
She was a librarian though not a high-ranking one, but still above regular imperial citizens. Orders like this weren't meant for her. Only her teacher or someone from the Imperial Library's higher administration could issue commands to a librarian.
Librarians usually weren't part of standard operations. They were untouchables, definitely not because of status, but because of their lack of specialty, even though they lived in the imperial capital.
Technically, they had higher intellect than the average Asterran, but that was mostly because they avoided anything physical. Like for example, when they're in their training they will use anything possible just to evade their drill sergeants, so much that even they gave up on them. Librarians were just people who managed records and made sure knowledge was preserved, so anyone who showed potential to be one is dropped here. There wasn't much else to do anyway and librarians are just a bunch of lazy blobs.
She doesn't know though, from her experience that's what she has done.
Even in an empire where everyone was supposedly perfect and capable of doing any assigned task, psychology still played a role. Neets still existed, she existed, even in an intergalactic civilization.
NEET by the way is an acronym for "not in employment, education, or training". It's a term used to describe young people who are not working, studying, or training. She learned from a set of ancient research dedicated to studying the society of an ancient race, called humans.
Same could be said to the other states, they have their own library branch. Which also means that makes this society of neets quite large, of course that's just her estimate. There's no existing statistics of such concern.
Well they're still loyal, so they were left alone.
But this time it seems they found use to the so-called Librarians of the empire.
Although the announcement mentioned a "room," it wasn't a physical one. The meeting would take place in [Mindspace], a networked projection within the Imperial Servers. Attendees wouldn't meet in person. Instead, their minds would be linked directly, making the process efficient and fast.
The fact that the message was delivered straight into her mind meant one thing, this was important.
And she was not prepared for what came next.
"Is that the Emperor!?"
"By the emperor, it's the first time I've seen him!"
Inside the [Mindspace], a towering figure stood at the center.
It was Aman.
The Emperor himself.
As if a god was conversing with mortals, he spoke in such a way that left them unable to move from their trances.
The announcement echoed through every mind connected to the Imperial Network.
[Today, on the 23rd Day of Tertius, Year 10,023 of the Empire. The Imperial Capital has encountered an unprecedented event.]
The moment Aman's voice was heard all the chattering and noise came to a full stop.
[As of this moment, we are severed, disconnected from the Empire we have always known, transported to a distant region beyond its reach. I will not soften the truth. We are alone. No fleet will come for us. No reinforcements will arrive. For now, there is only us.]
A short silence followed.
Some were still processing what was just said. No immediate response, just quiet tension hanging over the entire projection space.
[But listen well. This is not the first time the Empire has faced hardship, nor will it be the last. This civilization did not build itself. It was made by our hands, raised from nothing, and forged through conflict. We have endured wars, disasters, a universe on the brink of destruction, and the passage of time itself. This? This is another challenge, and challenges are meant to be overcome.]
The murmurs began. A few quick exchanges. Some nodded, others kept still, waiting for more.
Lirica Barnett, sitting at the back, tilted her head slightly.
Disconnected from the Empire? No reinforcements?
Sounded like someone else's problem. The capital was self-sustaining, and it's not like she was stationed at some military outpost. Unless the empire goes to war with the new neighbors it'll be hard to move her.
But still she felt odd, although it's natural to call all Asterrans to witness the emperor's words. She felt there's something more later, that she wouldn't like one bit.
She could only hope not.
[Do not let fear take hold. Do not let doubt creep into your hearts. We have the knowledge, the strength, and the means to sustain ourselves. We and your ancestors did not falter when they stood before the end, and neither shall you young ones be. Stand proud, for you are one with the Empire. Stand proud, for you are one with the power of fear. Stand proud, for you are stronger than anyone in this universe.]
Lirica glanced around. A few still looked shaken, but it was clear some were already adjusting.
She exhaled quietly, and heard the emperor's last words.
[For now, order will be maintained. Our lives will continue. We will adapt, as we always have. If rebuilding is necessary, then so be it. After standing for a millennium, I might even welcome a little trouble at this point.]
Hearing a gesture of a joke from the emperor, the room let out a small chuckle.
[However, you do not know me as someone who would risk the Empire for entertainment. No. I will not put the Empire or its people in danger for something so trivial. People of the Empire, hear me. From this point forward, we remain the eternal victors. Every action we take is for the Empire's survival, its expansion, and its future. No matter the challenges we face, no matter the path we take, the result remains the same, we will prevail. Our cause is just. Our will is absolute. There is no outcome where we are not victorious. No! This is not the end. This is simply the beginning of what comes next. Let's make the Empire great once again!!]
The room erupted into cheers. Asterrans shouted their loyalty, their voices overlapping into a wave of sound.
Then, as if guided by instinct, they all moved in unison. Fists crossed over their chests. A second later, their hands shot upward in salute.
"FOR THE EMPEROR!!" Everyone.
A sign of absolute devotion. A gesture meant for the Emperor alone.
The Emperor's presence lingered, even as his projection flickered and faded. His figure, bathed in an overwhelming radiance, left an imprint in their minds, commanding, unwavering, an existence beyond them. Even through mere projection, his presence alone demanded absolute obedience.
The weight of the words settled in. Some stood a little straighter. Others clenched their fists.
She on the other hand stretched her arms behind her head, continuing to watch.
Then, without warning, the chamber dimmed. The main connection severed. The external audience was cut off from their department's feed, isolating them for internal discussion. This wasn't meant for secrecy, just standard procedure. Each division had their own discussions to go through.
The moment lingered for a second. Then,
"We need immediate confirmation on our current resource database," one of the senior librarians stated, already pulling up projection data.
"We'll need to verify if all archival servers remain fully functional in this new region," another added. "If there's even a minor desync, certain classified records could become irretrievable."
"Assuming we are no longer in Imperial-controlled space, protocol dictates we begin contingency preparations. Should we alert the administrative branch for a data integrity report?"
"I'll draft the request now."
Lirica blinked.
Wait. Why were they acting like this was a normal Tuesday?
She had always assumed her fellow librarians were just like her—people who had chosen a cushy job with minimal effort involved. But looking at them now, pulling up records, cross-referencing emergency protocols, and discussing contingency plans like a high-level strategy meeting, she realized something unsettling.
These guys were... actually serious.
"Hold on," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "You're all acting like this is just another maintenance cycle."
A nearby librarian gave her a blank look. "Because it is a maintenance cycle. Just with larger variables."
"What, getting cut off from the Empire is just a minor technical issue to you?"
"Isn't that the logical way to handle it?" the librarian replied, adjusting her glasses. "The Emperor has spoken. We have our orders. Until then, we analyze, adjust, and maintain. We don't waste time on panicking."
"I—" Lirica stopped.
Okay. So maybe she was the lazy one here.
The thought didn't bother her much. It never had.
A few side-eyes landed her way, but she barely acknowledged them. Not that she cared. Someone else would handle it. Someone always did.
It wasn't that she didn't understand the situation, she did. The reports, the warnings, the strategic assessments, all neatly compiled and processed in the vast archives she spent most of her time in. But grasping its weight? That was another matter entirely.
It wasn't mentioned up until now, but she wasn't like the older Asterrans who spoke of the past with reverence and sorrow. Just barely three hundred years old, she was, by their standards, barely an adult. A new generation. One that never experienced the grand conquests or the tragedies that shaped the empire.
She had read about them, of course. Studied the campaigns, memorized the casualty numbers, and analyzed the empire's rise and fall in meticulous detail. But it was all just history.
Like reading about ancient wars in dusty old books. You could dissect the strategies, understand the causes and consequences, but that didn't mean you knew what it was like to be there.
Just like in the modern era, people would joke about wars here and there, but can't seem to understand what it means to be involved in a war.
That's why she chose to be a librarian.
Clearly reading old policies of another universe, ancient age, didn't do her well.
Perhaps that was why she became a librarian. It was the perfect job for someone like her, a safe distance from serious work.
It was an easy job compared to most. The empire had enough personnel to handle everything else, so no one would care if one more person decided to manage books instead of doing something more useful.
Perhaps because jobs are more like a duty and routine now this girl who's a new generation of Asterrans never worried about needing a job. Positions weren't something Asterrans chased after; they were assigned. Work was routine. A duty. Nothing more, nothing less.
It was a perfect system, she always thought.
She could have spent the next few centuries idling around without a problem.
If things just continue as it is.
○●○●
"This planet is geologically stable. No atmosphere, no liquid water, and no active biosphere. Scans show high concentrations of extractable metals and silicate compounds. But that doesn't matter, we're only checking for unknown materials after all. We found remnants of ancient structures, but carbon decay rates indicate the last traces of intelligent life disappeared millions of years ago. With all historical data recorded, the site is cleared for extraction." The Operations officer said and continued to brief them mission details.
Before a planet was approved for mining, a full assessment had to be conducted. The empire maintained strict protocols to ensure that no remnants of intelligent life were erased without proper documentation.
Though traditional colonization had long been abandoned in favor of resource conversion, any records of past civilizations, if they existed, were archived before a world was reduced to raw material.
This is what they do inside the Turan's Gate regions. If they found an intact Planet, they would send in a ground team for investigation.
Now this rule now applies to this special region the empire have founded themselves in.
The target, PX-79, had been flagged as viable after an extensive orbital survey.
Initial scans confirmed it was geologically stable, with a solid core and a high concentration of extractable elements. No active biosphere was detected, no atmosphere, no liquid water, and no geological activity indicating a living ecosystem.
However, standard protocol required a ground team to confirm any remnants of ancient civilizations.
A preliminary expedition was deployed, an automated reconnaissance unit accompanied by specialists.
They scanned the surface for artificial structures, buried ruins, or any sign of past habitation. The findings were minimal: eroded structural fragments, carbon-based alloys, and traces of a subterranean transport network. Based on the decay rates, intelligent life had vanished millions of years ago. Whatever species had once inhabited the planet had either left or died out long before the empire's arrival. With no living inhabitants and all historical data recorded, PX-79 was cleared for extraction.
The first stage focused on the surrounding sector.
A nearby debris field contained a dense concentration of metallic meteorites, rich in heavy elements, titanium, vanadium, osmium. Some fragments showed trace neutronium deposits, remnants of a planetary collision in the distant past. Since meteorites were already compacted by natural space collisions, they were processed first.
To extract them efficiently, 5D Drones were deployed. These drones, equipped with five-dimensional conversion systems, processed materials on-site, reducing them to usable resources without traditional refining. Their ability to break down matter at an atomic level ensured efficient extraction with minimal waste. Once meteorite collection was completed, the focus shifted to planetary extraction.
With the preliminary resource collection finished, the next stage began with the deployment of AEGIS MORS, a planetary shield designed to withstand the extreme conditions of large-scale extraction. Encasing the entire planet, it prevented debris loss, stabilized energy output, and ensured operational security. 5D Drones were dispatched to the surface, anchoring support frames at designated coordinates while the shield lattice was brought online. Once the structure stabilized, shield integrity was verified, and command validation for the next stage commenced.
With the shield in place, the core-kill sequence was initiated. Twin bore-cannons, stationed at the north and south poles of the shield, activated. These cannons fired directly through shielded firing ports, calibrated to maintain containment while allowing precise planetary strikes. A focused energy charge was discharged into the planetary mantle, destabilizing the core and causing a controlled collapse of its internal structure. This process ensured that no unpredictable tectonic activity interfered with extraction. Once the core was neutralized, the planet was left to cool, allowing the remaining mass to stabilize before the final phase.
After cooling, the breakdown process began. 5D Utility Drones, deployed to begin atomic conversion. These drones broke down planetary matter at a fundamental level—reducing rock, metal, and any remaining organic remnants into base particles. At this stage, composition no longer mattered. Everything was processed and restructured into raw materials. The empire had long eliminated the need for workshops—with sufficient base material, warships, orbital stations, and planetary installations could be constructed on demand. With sufficient raw material, warships, orbital stations, and planetary installations could be constructed on demand.
Though meteorite deposits were a secondary target, they were collected alongside planetary material. Their pre-compacted structure required less energy to process, contributing to the overall resource yield. Between the planetary mass and the surrounding debris, the operation was projected to exceed its expected resource quota.
With extraction complete, PX-79 would cease to exist.
"Now, as for why you are all here, it is because you have been chosen. Chosen to serve and contribute to the great Emperor's plans.
As of now, we have yet to receive direct orders on how to proceed in this new sector, but the upper echelon has decided on the most crucial task: resource collection.
My brothers and sisters, we will offer all that we are to the Empire!
Our duty is to serve the Emperor, eternally and without question! For the Emperor!"
"For the Emperor!!" Everyone.
The room erupted with voices in unison, their shouts filled with zeal.
The man leading the briefing stood tall at the front, his expression fierce, as if he had been set ablaze by their shared purpose.
'What are they even so excited about? They're just being used as free labor. Aren't we still librarians? The Imperial Guards and the Marines, they could do this job. Why us?'
Sure, they had all undergone combat training. Every librarian in service was technically active military personnel, so if the need arose, they wouldn't hesitate to throw them into a conflict if necessary. But their work was supposed to be away from all that. What does mining have to do with us?
Yet, despite the collective enthusiasm, this person was clearly dissatisfied.
As the briefing concluded, the walls of the room slid open, revealing racks of equipment emerging from hidden compartments.
Of course, all of them appeared like virtual projections now. Once they logged out of the room, they'd receive the actual equipment.
'Are we going to war? Why are we being given equipment?'
The group lined up, waiting for their assignments. When her turn came, she stepped forward.
"Lirica Barnett Asterra."
A voice, not her usual supervisor's, called her name. She looked up and found herself face-to-face with Commandant Ivar Rhaegner Zigma, a high-ranking officer in charge of expeditionary operations. She recognized him from past briefings but had never interacted with him directly, more like she can't and will not.
"You're coming with us for this mission," Rhaegner continued, handing her a datapad with her assignment details.
Lirica barely had time to process that when he spoke again.
"Effective immediately, you are promoted to Operations Lieutenant under the Imperial Expeditionary Corps. Your mission is to oversee and document the installation of Aegis Mors, the planetary shield that will protect the planet during extraction. This will be a highlight in history as the first step in this unknown sector."
The words hit her all at once.
'Wait… What?! Did he just, did he just promote me?!'
She had expected to be lumped in with the general workforce, forced to mine or haul equipment. But now she had a title, an actual rank, and an assignment that didn't involve manual labor.
She blinked, still processing.
"You've read about it, haven't you?" Rhaegner added. "After all, you are a librarian. You'll do fine."
'I-I'm doing fieldwork?! You've got to be f#$&$& kidding me!'
The words slipped into her thoughts so naturally that she startled herself. She had learned them from the ancient archives, phrases once considered vulgar in pre-imperial texts. Instinctively, she slapped a hand over her mouth.
Rhaegner raised an eyebrow.
"Is something wrong?"
She hesitated. Wait… I didn't say that out loud?
Realizing her mistake, she quickly straightened her posture.
"Uh, um, yeah. No! I guess not…"
"Mm. Very good."
Rhaegner gave a small nod before turning his attention back to the other personnel.
Lirica stood frozen for a moment. Promoted. Just like that. No fanfare, no discussion, just a single sentence and now she had a new rank.
"Also Barnett," Rhaegner suddenly spoke again, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Your assignment is independent."
"Uh—okay, wait, independent! Sir you mean, alone!?"
"Yes, you are to record, observe, and document everything. Your expertise as a librarian makes you suited for this. Consider it a privilege as someone in your batch."
'Privilege, my ass…'
But she couldn't argue. Rhaegner was too high up the chain for her to question his decision. And considering how everyone around her was buzzing with excitement over their assignments, if she voiced a complaint, she'd just come off as ungrateful.
So, instead, she sighed and gave the only answer she could.
"...Understood, sir."
Someone behind her clapped a hand on her shoulder, a little too hard acting casually with her, and grinned. Does she know him? She doesn't even know.
"Barnett, this is our chance to prove ourselves. The library has always been seen as secondary to the Empire's greater needs, but now? We have a role in something important."
"uh...yeah I guess so."
She knew it.
She had planned to complain after the briefing, but the moment the Emperor's projection appeared, everyone around her changed. Their expressions, their posture, even the way they looked at their assignments, it was like they had been reborn.
If I say anything now, I'll just get myself reprimanded for 'disobedience' or 'defying the Emperor's will' or something like that.
Not that she was close to any of these people to begin with. They all thought the same way, moved the same way, spoke the same way. If she ever slipped up, they'd have no problem snitching on her rather heretical thoughts.
She shuddered at the idea.
All these years, she had thought she was one of them. Her feelings of belongingness towards them have become false, her respect and definition towards them are not like what she has thought them to be. Because all this time she was the only person who she was describing.
'When did it all start?' she thought.
She misunderstood it all.
Her old teacher's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Lirica."
She turned, and was surprised. Standing there was Senior Archivist Helena Voss Asterra, one of the highest-ranking figures in the Imperial Library's administratum.
Lirica hadn't seen her in a while, Helena had been one of her mentors during her early years of service, but she was too important to be involved in the daily affairs of lower-ranked librarians. Seeing her here was unexpected.
Helena offered a small smile, but there was something in her eyes, a bit of sadness, maybe even regret.
"You're really going, then."
Lirica hesitated. She had expected a lecture, maybe some last-minute instructions, but there was none of that.
"I didn't exactly volunteer,"
"Commandant Rhaegner just… handed me a new rank and assignment."
Helena chuckled, though it lacked humor.
"That's how it is sometimes."
The two stood there for a moment before Lirica finally asked,
"You're staying?"
Helena nodded.
"I don't have a choice. The higher administration can't just leave. Someone has to keep the Library running."
Lirica frowned.
"You don't sound happy about that."
For a second, Helena seemed like she wanted to say something, something important, but in the end, she just sighed.
"Lirica, do you remember why the Imperial Library exists?"
Lirica crossed her arms and was a bit puzzled at the sudden question.
"Because the Empire values knowledge?"
"Because knowledge is control," Helena corrected.
"We don't just collect history, we shape it. We decide what's remembered and what's forgotten. That's why we've always been kept in the background, because the moment the Library steps into the field, it means something bigger is at stake."
Lirica didn't have an answer for that. What could she mean by that? That's just so cringe.
Helena's expression softened.
"I trained you because I saw potential in you. Not just as a librarian, but as someone who can think beyond what we've been taught. That's why you're here, Lirica. The Empire needs more than just soldiers and workers, it needs people who can see, who can understand."
"I…guess so."
She sighed again, her gaze lingering on Lirica's uniform.
"I should be proud. But…" She shook her head.
"I suppose I just didn't expect one of my own to be sent out first."
Lirica shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she just muttered.
"…Yeah."
Helena straightened, regaining her usual composed demeanor.
"Don't forget what you are, Lirica. No matter what orders you're given, you're a librarian first."
"..."
Then, with one last glance, she turned and walked away.
Lirica watched her go with squinted eyes.
"What was that all about? It's getting… a bit dramatic."
She had always thought of the Library as just another branch of the Empire's bureaucracy, but now… she wasn't so sure.
, , , ,
[Ancient Word of the Day: "Cringe"]
According to pre-imperial texts, "cringe" was a term used to describe a feeling of secondhand embarrassment or discomfort caused by witnessing something awkward, forced, or overly dramatic. The word was often associated with outdated social behaviors, poorly executed performances, or excessive displays of self-importance.
Interestingly, in some ancient records, it was also used as an insult, labeling a person or action as painfully awkward or lacking self-awareness. However, in some contexts, people deliberately embraced the term, using it humorously to describe themselves.
Imagine living in an era where people competed to see who could be the most "cringe" on purpose. What a strange time?
Lirica closed the old data log, rubbing her temple.
"Ancient human society had some bizarre cultural quirks. Why did they document things like this?"