"And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him."
- Revelation 6:7-8 (KJV)
————
Quartis 12th, Year 10,023 of the Imperial Calendar
PX-79 Perimeter – 120,467 km from the celestial body
0320 hours since operation commenced…
The Horkan-Toa Manufactured UAV CZ-3400 Specialized Reconnaissance Mobile Drone hovered in the void, freshly deployed from the UAV carrier.
Its thrusters emitted a faint blue glow, adjusting for minor gravitational fluctuations as it stabilized its position in the designated perimeter.
Inside the cockpit, Lirica Barnett observed the readings on her interface.
A full diagnostic scan ran across the display, detailing power distribution, energy efficiency, sensor range, and structural integrity.
The CZ3400, designed for deep-space reconnaissance, was equipped with a reinforced hull, an advanced inertial dampening system, and a suite of long-range sensors—perfect for gathering intelligence in hazardous environments.
Every Asterran, including Lirica, had been trained to pilot various ships at the Imperial Academy. Something as simple as a mobile drone was nothing to her.
Lirica's fingers moved across the control panel, adjusting the drone's stance in microgravity.
The HUD projected a holographic overlay of the operational grid, marking restricted zones and the estimated impact radius of the upcoming AEGIS MORS activation.
She noted the gravitational distortions recorded near the center of the field—unstable space-time fluctuations likely caused by something but she didn't care if it was left alone perhaps it was not a problem
A final check. Thruster output? Normal.
Sensor array? Fully operational.
Communications link? Stable.
All systems are green.
Then a voice cut in.
"Hey, drone pilot, can you hear me?"
Lirica frowned. Unidentified frequency. Someone was using an open comms line.
"This is Lieutenant Lirica Barnett, Asterra. Do we have a problem?"
"Well, yeah. You're too close to the grid. Might wanna back off a few kilometers unless you want an accident."
Lirica narrowed her eyes.
"Excuse me? I don't like your tone. Identify yourself."
"Oh, me? Just a mining operative, uh—what is it—ma'am? Oh, yes I'm about to do that, it's just there's this crazy guy—..."
She raised a brow. What's with this guy? He continued talking and dismissed her.
"I see. A mining operative." She exhaled. Fine.
"Alright, Mr. Mining Operative, I am an Operational Lieutenant and an Archivist of the Librarian Administratum. I am here to document your work. So, could you please be clear on what you're saying?"
A brief silence. Then, under his breath—
"Shit—lucky me, a big shot."
Lirica's brow twitched.
"Huh? What was that?" Her voice turned sharp.
"Give me your designation so I can file a report later. You understand—"
"Ah! Sorry, ma'am, we're about to start the operation, can't chat. Bye, sweet cheeks! Now you need to get off the grid."
"Hey! Hey! Answer me—" The signal cut out.
Lirica clenched her teeth, gripping the controls. Unbelievable.
She tried re-establishing contact, but the comms remained silent.
Who even talks to a superior officer like that?
Before she could try again, the launch sequence was initiated. The control feed flickered as a swarm of 5D utility drones deployed, spreading across the operational zone.
"I'll deal with that idiot later."
She adjusted the drone's position, switching to a wider feed and leaned back slightly, her gaze shifting to the vast expanse ahead.
"I can't see much from the feed."
She adjusted her position, watching as the drones descended.
This was the first AEGIS MORS activation in this universe, this might become an important event later that marks the empire's first step in this world. She needed to capture everything.
The 5D drones numbering of almost sixty billion started to print out the parts of AEGIS MORS on-site.
AEGIS MORS, a planetary shield designed to withstand the extreme conditions of Large scale extractions. Encasing the entire planet, it prevented debris loss, stabilized energy output, and ensured operational security.
5D Drones printed support frames at designated coordinates when done disintegrate the materials and recycle it leading to no loss of material while the others printed the assembled parts on the spot.
Once the structure stabilized, shield integrity was verified, and command validation for the next stage commenced.
Soon twin bore-cannons, stationed at the north and south poles of the shield, were printed.
All that is left is to print the entire cover hull, but it'll take hours before that is done, so Lirica is stuck here until the process is done and eyeing every detail of the operation.
"Ugh, dammit. I can't really see things from here. How am I supposed to capture this in my log?"
This might be harder to document than she thought.
Technically, the CZ-3400 could record everything from here, but that wasn't the point. She wanted to see it herself—not through a drone's sensors, not through a screen, but with her own eyes. The recordings were just data—sterile, lacking perspective.
If she was going to be stuck here watching, she might as well bring back something worthwhile.
A souvenir.
Lirica unfastened her harness and moved toward the hatch. The usual pre-exit checks were barely necessary—Asterrans didn't need oxygen to survive. They weren't bound by the same biological limits as the ancient races. The vacuum of space? Completely harmless.
Still, protocol required a tether. Not that she planned on drifting away, but floating aimlessly for hours until someone came to fetch her sounded annoying.
She latched the harness to the exterior rail, double-checked the connection, and opened the hatch.
The exterior seal disengaged with a low hiss. Not from air escaping, but from the shift in pressure between the ship's internal environment and open space.
Then—weightlessness.
It wasn't new, but stepping out always felt different. The ship was no longer a boundary—just another object in the vast nothingness.
Lirica leaned forward slightly, letting herself drift just beyond the hull.
Space stretched endlessly around her. The only illumination came from distant stars, the faint glow of the CZ-3400's thrusters, and the swarm of 5D drones assembling AEGIS MORS in the distance.
Perfect.
She adjusted her position, activating her suit's built-in recorder. The visual feed from her helmet was infinitely better than the ship's static camera. It felt real.
It was risky, sure. But then she remembered something she read in the Imperial Archives—an old record about ancient human culture.
Back in their primitive digital era, some of them risked their lives for better footage.
Camera crews dangling from cliffs, divers plunging into dangerous waters, explorers venturing into extreme conditions, all for a better angle. Some even died doing it, all for what they called "clout."
Lirica smirked. Idiots.
"Guess I'm carrying on the culture."
She adjusted her angle again, framing the shot just right. If she was going to be stuck watching this operation, she might as well make it look good.
"Hope this thing is over soon. I wanna go back already." Just as Lirica was adjusting the shot, a transmission pinged on her terminal.
"Hey, the idiot who's floating out there? Can you hear me?" He said.
The voice was casual, but she recognized it instantly.
She rolled her eyes. Senior Engineer Orlan Vance Asterra.
"No, I'm swimming. What do you need?"
A short chuckle came through the line.
"Long time no see, Lirica."
It had been a while since they last talked.
They first had met as kids in the Imperial Academy, back when everything was still about lectures, training drills, and sneaking off during maintenance hours to mess with the academy's outdated flight simulators.
He was always the one dragging her into dumb experiments, jury-rigging unstable thruster packs out of spare parts.
Now, he was a senior engineer, stationed on one of the most advanced warship research and weapon production projects in the Empire. It's questionable how he ended up here though.
And she? She was... out here, pointing a camera at a planet.
Lirica smirked slightly.
"Didn't think I'd run into you on this job."
"Same. I was half-expecting you to be in some frontline unit blowing things up, not playing journalist in space."
"I don't blow things up. I just document them before they explode."
"Right. Huge difference."
Lirica smirked at Orlan's sarcasm, adjusting her stabilizers as she drifted slightly.
"But really, you, of all people staying put in a shipyard? That's new."
Orlan scoffed.
"'Staying put' is a strong term. I'm still doing plenty of fieldwork, just not the kind that gets me shot at. Engineering contracts pay better anyway."
Lirica raised an eyebrow.
"Uh-huh. And how long before you get bored and build some contraption that gets you reassigned to a warship?"
Orlan chuckled.
"Give it a year."
They shared a short laugh, the comfortable kind that came from years of knowing exactly how the other operated. After a brief silence, Orlan sighed.
"You know, when I heard your name again, I thought maybe… maybe you were still back home."
"Yeah…"
"It's been a weird time, though. Ever since the displacement…" He trailed off.
"Yeah. One moment we're in Imperial space, next thing we know, the entire capital planet gets transported somewhere across the void into a new world. Just like that." Lirica leaned back, and spun on the zero gravity.
"That's what gets me. It was so fast. We didn't even have time to process it before it was over."
He took a heavy breath, Lirica heard it over the line.
"I lost my family. Everyone."
She exhaled.
"I heard."
A pause.
"I'm sorry, Orlan."
"I keep trying to check in with my family, but there's nothing. No response. No signals from back home."
Lirica frowned. "Still?"
"Still. And I know, I know—the emperor's with us so we're practically safe, the entire capital world made it, we're the lucky ones. But what about everyone else? The outer sectors, the colonies, all the people we left behind?"
Lirica didn't answer immediately.
She wasn't the type to dwell on things like this. Her own family, scattered as they were never had much of a deep bond. They were independent, functional, only gathering when necessary. She assumed they were fine, because that's just how they were.
But Orlan's family? That was different. He cared.
"It is what it is."
Lirica hesitated.
"For what it's worth… I didn't really worry about my own family."
"That so?"
She gave a small, almost amused smile.
"Yeah. We're all a bunch of self-sufficient loners. Unless it's a family gathering, we don't really bother with each other."
That earned a chuckle from Orlan.
"Typical Asterra nobility. Too important to check in unless there's a banquet involved."
Lirica snorted.
"Hey, don't pretend you weren't the same way."
"Fair point."
"You think they're still in the capital sector? That they're fine?" she asked.
"I hope so. But with no contact, I don't know. And that's the worst part, not knowing."
Lirica stayed silent for a moment before finally speaking.
"They're tough. If they're anything like you, they'll pull through. You're a jackass after all."
Orlan gave a short laugh.
"I don't know what you mean by 'jackass', but that sounds like a terrifying thought."
Lirica smirked.
"You said it, not me."
They sat in the quiet for a moment before Orlan exhaled, forcing some levity back into his voice.
Lirica shook her head.
"You never change."
"Neither do you. Still putting yourself in ridiculous situations even though you're just slacking off all the time?"
Lirica snorted.
"Excuse you, I don't slack off—I just work smart."
Orlan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. You've been like that since the Academy. Somehow always skating by, yet adapting faster than the rest of us."
And that was true.
Lirica never worked harder than necessary. She didn't stress over things, didn't struggle against situations she couldn't change, although she might slightly, like real slightly, complain at first she just adapted and moved on.
It was how she coped, how she made things easier for herself. No point wasting energy on things outside her control.
"It's a skill," she said smugly.
"I've made an art out of efficiency."
Orlan scoffed.
"Efficiency? Please. You just don't like effort."
"Exactly." Lirica grinned.
They both laughed, the tension from earlier fading into something lighter.
"Alright, enough of my depressing crap. What's next for you? Still pretending to be a librarian, or have you finally embraced your 'blogger' side?"
"I don't like that term, I'd prefer 'content curator' than librarian. The old-school title feels too stiff for what I'm doing now."
"Whatever you say, Lirica. You always learn new words, I don't even understand you anymore."
They chuckled again. It was how they had always been—joking, even in the face of something as uncertain as the fate of an empire.
Lirica checked her HUD. "Anyway, you're not here just to catch up are you, what do you need?"
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. it's the reason I called you in the first place."
Lirica raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Another one of your weird projects? Or maybe you need me to test something and definitely not almost die in the process?"
Orlan smirked.
"As fun as that sounds, no. This one's official."
"Now I'm interested."
"Yeah, funny. I'm just going to check your visual feed. HQ wants confirmation on the bore-cannon alignment. The calibration drones are done with the final adjustments, but we need another angle before we fire this thing up."
Lirica exhaled, adjusting her visor feed to zoom in.
The twin bore-cannons, stationed at the planet's north and south poles, were now fully printed and locked in place.
"Everything looks stable from here. No misalignment. What's the margin of error?"
"Point-zero-zero-two degrees. It's within tolerance, but we're dealing with a planet-killer here, so command is being paranoid."
Lirica nodded to herself. Understandable.
If AEGIS MORS wasn't deployed right, the core detonation could cause a delayed collapse instead of an instant shutdown, making extraction messy.
"Alright, I'll send you the footage. You guys should have cross-referenced telemetry, right?"
Orlan nodded.
"Yeah, we do. The alignment team is running triple redundancy checks—sensor data from the calibration drones, real-time scans from the ship, and your visual confirmation. They want all three to match before we get the green light."
Lirica hummed, adjusting her feed to stabilize the recording.
"Paranoid much?"
"It's a planet-killer. If the bore-cannons are even slightly off, we could destabilize the crust unevenly, or worse, misfire and cause a planetary explosion instead of a controlled collapse."
"Right, because turning the target into a system-wide debris field is not what we want."
"Exactly. HQ wants a full confirmation chain. Your footage is the final piece—if it matches our telemetry, we fire. If there's a discrepancy, we recalibrate."
Lirica smirked.
"And if all hell breaks loose?"
"Then it's officially not my problem anymore." Orlan deadpanned.
"That's above my pay grade. But a manual check doesn't hurt. Appreciate it."
"Fine, fine. Anything else?"
"Yeah, don't float off into deep space. You're not getting paid extra for cinematic angles."
Lirica smirked.
"Guess I'm carrying the culture alone, Orlan. Someone's gotta make history look good."
"Right, well, don't become part of history yourself. Transmission out."
"Hey, before that. How about we—"
She was about to say something when the contact line was out. She sighed.
"Right. You never change, Orlan."
Lirica rolled her shoulders, refocusing on the operation.
The final stage was about to begin.
As she was about to adjust her position again, her HUD flickered.
"Hm? Again?"
A minor gravitational distortion registered on her scanner—a faint, shifting anomaly near the southern pole of the planetary shield.
She frowned.
"What is this…?"
It wasn't unusual for spatial fluctuations to appear during large-scale energy deployments.
When dealing with planet-scale operations, gravitational imbalances, residual energy bleed, and quantum wake effects were expected.
The bore-cannons themselves created minor distortions as they calibrated, shifting the planet's own gravitational field ever so slightly.
But something about this one felt off.
Fluctuations from energy-based weapons were usually chaotic and dispersed, appearing in short bursts before fading.
They behaved like ripples in a pond, spreading out and eventually dissipating.
However, this anomaly wasn't fading—it was stable.
Instead of dispersing, it seemed to be maintaining a consistent presence near the southern pole.
Lirica's eyes narrowed as she fine-tuned her scanners.
The readings weren't behaving the way they should. The gravitational distortion was fluctuating within an incredibly tight range, almost as if something was holding it in place.
She tapped her visor.
"Could this be an error in the telemetry? A misreading caused by the bore-cannon's energy buildup?"
But the bore-cannons weren't even fully online yet.
The system was still in the final confirmation phase.
That meant whatever this was—it wasn't coming from their equipment.
Her curiosity kicked in. If something was wrong, better to catch it now than later.
Lirica opened her comms.
"Orlan, I'm picking up a distortion near the southern pole. It's small but stable. Are you guys seeing this?"
There was a brief pause before he responded.
"Alright, checking…"
A few seconds passed. No response.
Lirica waited, shifting slightly as she adjusted her position. Then, finally—
"Huh? That's weird." Orlan's voice came back, a little more focused now.
.
.
.