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Insurrection

Prologue: The Emperor

**Culminations 14, 994 Imperial Standard Year

Haroma System, Haroma III

Darkmire Mountains, Frostfall Palace**

The constant annoying buzz of the alarm is what finally awoke the emperor from his sleep. For the past ten years, this one alarm clock is what woke him up and kept him on his normal schedule. And, like the last ten years, the morning started the same as any other. He sat up, then turned to his left and faced out the windows across the mountain valley and lake below. It was a beautiful sight for anyone that didn't wake up to it every morning. Now it was just a regular routine. As with every routine, the emperor was quick to close the curtains on the window to darken the room a bit more if only so his wife didn't wake up from that as well. He really didn't want to hear her complain about the noise. Again.

The first duty of the morning was as simple as getting dressed. The shirt and shorts that the emperor wore while sleeping wouldn't do for a day of sitting in the office, even if that office was right down the hall. Sliding open the closet door, he settled on a simple dress shirt and black slacks. There was no need to go all out if he wasn't going to leave the palace at all today. It took just a few minutes for him to get dressed. During this of course his wife woke up.

"Will you stop making so much fucking noise?" His wife shouted at him.

Outside, the guard shuffled slightly, as if about to enter. As if on instinct and training, the Emperor grabbed one of the metal hangars and threw it at her. It wasn't heavy, otherwise he'd have some trouble, but it her in the head and she only got louder. It never did shut her up, but it did make him feel good. With that done, he turned his back and walked toward the door.

Now dressed, the emperor shuffled out of the bedroom and across the hall, getting a prompt salute from the Royal Guard at the door. He didn't return the salute, the same as every morning before. Yet the Guard always saluted. If he didn't, the emperor would notice the change. Once in the bathroom, the emperor did his usual quick wash of his face, and then stared in the mirror. Of all the things that never changed, the one thing that did was the face; the pitted, scarred, and 55 year old human face. Only a few years ago, or so it felt, he looked into the eyes of an eighteen year old that just passed the Drop Trooper training and thought he'd have an easy military career.

They called him Emperor Isaiah Welhan the Liberator. More formally, it was Emperor Isaiah II the Liberator of the Anean Star Empire, but no one ever used that version. The name came from his battles in the closing years of the Insurrection War just a few years ago, in which he overwhelmed rebel forces and retook parts of the Empire during several great offenses. The name was wrong though, and its existence only aggravated Isaiah. None of the offenses he commanded, none of the truly heroic units did he give orders to. It was a name granted only because he was to become the Emperor, and not because of his deeds.

With a creak in the back that made Isaiah grimace, he stood up straight again and then stepped out of the bathroom. Again, the guard saluted. Like every time before this time, Isaiah saluted back in a sloppy and tired manner. Of course, like every morning, Isaiah's aide was already on hand and waiting as he rounded a corner. One of the few Isaiah kept on staff, the aide is a wolf, and only hired because he was an organized sort that actually had loyalties to the throne. For this reason, he had his wife make the hire. If Isaiah had his way, all the canines would have been rounded up and shot years ago.

"My lord, good morning." The lupine aide said with a bit too much enthusiasm. "I am pleased to inform you that there's not much worth reporting."

That was new, however. Usually Isaiah had a stack of paperwork and issues to resolve before lunch, and usually through lunch. Perhaps, for once, the government was able to pull its head of its own ass and solve issues without pushing them up the chain to Isaiah's desk. Of course, that was highly unlikely given the nature of the government. If anything he actually had a bunch of minor issues he'd just pass to his aide to sign off on or reject based on a few requirements that Isaiah kept for the aide. It'd be easier to do the signing himself, but he paid his aides to do his work for him. Beyond that, he had absolute power, why not abuse it a little bit?

Isaiah waved off the aide silently as he walked to the elevator. The wolf of course stopped following him and gave a simple, "As you wish my lord", followed by a deep bow. He was much more compliant after a good brainwashing and an implant that kept any free thought suppressed. Legal? Not at all. In fact, if anyone actually found out, Isaiah would be executed. But, again, Isaiah had absolute power. Who would report the abuse of that power?

He hit the button to go down to go three levels up, to his office as well as a few other key rooms. The Palace's infirmary was on the top floor, as well as the starship hangar. As the elevator doors stared to close, Isaiah's son - also named Isaiah of course, though usually just called "Little Isaiah", a name he hated - started walking down the hall and picked up the pace as the elevator closed. The Emperor only hit the door close button harder, but his son beat the doors on the elevator.

"Thanks for holding." Little Isaiah said. Despite the name he had, the snow leopard was taller than his father's six foot two inches. Isaiah nothing as the elevator started to move upward. The short silence was broken as they went up just one floor. "Who is the target of your imperial wrath today? Remnorans in general or do you have a specific breed in mind?"

"If you don't show a bit of respect, I'll have you strung up along with the rest of the traitors." Isaiah growled out at his son's question. He knew that his son's question was serious, and meant to insult. Just as his son was serious, so too was Isaiah. If his children risked the security of the Empire, he'd treat them as the criminals that they are. The scoff from his son was enough to end the subject.

The moment the elevator doors opened, Isaiah stepped out and made an immediate right. His son followed, though with a distance, and turned behind Isaiah into the hangar access hall. That was fine to Isaiah, as long as his son didn't try to take the Adamant. If they did that, he wouldn't be very happy. He'd be particularly angry at the guards that let his son take the ship instead of one of the far smaller shuttles.

At the end of the hall, at the cross where a left turn led outside and a right to the Infirmary, a single large vault looking door sat closed and sealed, flanked on either side by Royal Guards in the assault battlesuits that the Imperial Marines had almost exclusively used before the war. The two were intimidating, but one saluted as the other unsealed the door. Despite the security, what laid beyond was hardly demanding of such. The vault door unsealed and one of the guards pulled it open to allow Isaiah through. Usually the door was unsealed during the day, but that wasn't too important.

On the other side of the door was a normal study. Wood bookshelves, with shelves filled with books from across the Empire and the galaxy, held thousands of books. Isaiah had plenty to read, and he usually spent most of the day in the study. It kept him away from his family and their constant complaining about how he was doing things. The study, before Isaiah took the throne, was the official working office of the Emperor other than the formal office back in the capital. Isaiah saw a greater use for the room as a private library and study, something the Imperial Palace in Gracaria lacked.

The size of the study is what encouraged Isaiah to renovate. The vault door that he entered through once didn't exist, but it did make him feel safer since it kept his wife out. In all the room was just over one hundred feet long, forty wide, and three floors tall. As part of the roof, Isaiah had a glass roof that was, currently, covered in snow but some light made it through the light covering. At the center of the study, as Isaiah walked by, sat his two chairs and desk where he usually read whichever book he settled in. Around the central area, in a few display cases, mostly for whenever he decided to bring anyone into the study, he had a few artifacts and other valuables.

His most prized possession is kept in a thick glass case. The Panebnayu, the holy book of the Church of Haroma, is one of the most printed books in the Empire, and a few are ornate and well taken care of. This one is in a fair condition, but also thousands of years old, which means it's one of the original printed copies. It was found in the ancient tunnels below Frostfall during excavations decades ago. Naturally the Welhan family repossessed it for their own collections. The actual family vault was far below the study, but Isaiah liked having it nearby.

In another case, the tattered standard of the pre-war 1st Drop Trooper Regiment was neatly folded, though it retained its burn marks, stains, and holes that it had when Isaiah picked it up during the Haroma Campaign. Not long after that campaign, the 1st Regiment was disbanded and its troops merged into other understrength Army units. It was the death of the Drop Troopers of the Empire, as the Empire no longer had the resources to spare on drop pods. This flag is one of the last of its kind, and something Isaiah is proud of.

Something he was equally proud of was on an armor stand. Broken, damaged, and burned in places, a set of clearly alien powered armor designed for a female was on display. The helmet had a large hole in it, with the metal of the helmet melted and shaped around the hole. The rest of the armor had singes and other damages to it, as well as the crest of the Geminorian royal family. Isaiah salvaged it off a killed Geminorian princess who had wandered into the warzone and made stupid demands, and got killed for it. Isaiah made the kill, so he took the armor.

As Isaiah reached the far end of the study, he pushed open the double doors into his actual office. Unlike the older appearance of the study, the office was far more modern. The wood floors turned into large polished black marble tiles. Opting for a slightly different, and rougher look, Isaiah had the office carved right out of the mountain, with the rocks uncovered, though cut down and smoothed. It usually was cold in the office, but that was handled with heating coming from the ventilation ducts that ran along the rocky ceiling above.

On the lower level of the office, a hologram of the galaxy spun slowly, with the Empire and its systems highlighted with a blue coloration. Seats encircled with hologram, as well as several areas where one could stand. If Isaiah had a strategic meeting in this office, he'd more than likely use the projector and its computer. For now, he passed right by it and walked up a flight of stairs to the upper level of the office.

Sitting on the upper level was just Isaiah's wooden desk on a silver colored metal floor. Two seats were in front, and of course Isaiah's seat was behind it. The desk itself was placed on a slightly elevated platform, setting him higher than those that may sit before him, and even those chairs were shortened by a few inches. For those few that got into his office, Isaiah enjoyed applying a bit of psychology to his meetings.

Behind the desk, and spanning the floor to ceiling, large windows looked out to the lake and valley below the palace. The office and Palace is built into the side of one of the mountain peaks of the Darkmire Mountains, and only sits about halfway up toward the peak. The Palace stands out since the lower palace actually had a large external structure, but the upper palace was built into the mountain itself.

The lake below, just a few decades ago, served as a source of water for a military unit that was holding its ground in the Darkmire Mountains. Before that, and even today, the lake and valley serve as fertile farmlands and excellent hunting grounds. Isaiah authorized a few farms to be built, since the Welhan family owns the valley, and the hunting is limited but a handful are authorized to hunt in the forests.

Isaiah sat down in his office chair and looked out north into the plains. To the south were the mountains of High Command. To the northeast were just more mountains and a few surface to orbit defense systems built into mountain passes and valleys. To the north sat the Western Plains - as they were called during Haroma's classical age. The plains almost entirely were comprised of small towns and vast farms making use of genetically modified plants that produced far more than the centuries old, less modified foods. It was called the "breadbasket of Haroma" for a reason after all. Feeding roughly fourteen billion people was no easy task.

Isaiah sat in his chair for about ten minutes as he took in the sight, then turned back around and rolled up to his desk and computer. The first thing on his desk was a datapad with the current agenda for the day. His aide always updated that and put it on the desk, lest Isaiah forget his job he does every day. The first thing was a review of a few proposals that went through his computer, and signing off on any that he wanted implemented.

As the computer started, Isaiah's phone rang. That was also a rarity since people usually annoyed him through the computer. Isaiah hit a button to put the phone onto speaker. "This is the office of Emperor Isaiah Welhan. The Emperor is not available at the moment, but if you leave a message, he'll get back to you as soon as possible." Isaiah said, mocking the very tone he used anyway. It was his way of screening calls.

"Uh." The feminine voice said, and not one of the major government officials. Isaiah wondered how they got the direct number to his office. "This is Sasha Asusa, I'm a student at the University of Norovona, majoring in Journalism. I know you don't usually do this, but I was hoping to get in contact for an interview."

Isaiah never did interviews. Most that asked always wanted to know how many people he killed, what it was like in the war, and other stupid things like that which were both insensitive and complete asinine. No one ever wanted to hear the story of the war, and the reasons for it that are now shrouded under a cloud of nationalistic fervor because the Empire won the war - barely. If someone actually wanted the story, he'd gladly give an interview. But no one ever did.

"I know you are a veteran of the Insurrection War, from start to finish." The voice continued. "There's a lot of blanks in the history books I notice. I was hoping, if you have the time, that we could have a discussion regarding that, in the hopes that maybe this can get into the history books. Your experience and knowledge would be invaluable I am sure."

Isaiah picked up the phone at this point. "Missus Asusa." He heard a faint 'oh my god' the moment he spoke. "This is Emperor Welhan. Thank you for the call. I have tomorrow open if you'd wish to come in?"

The voice from Sasha was scrambling through words. For the confidence that seemed to be in the message, it faltered now that she was speaking to him directly. It was a thought that actually made Isaiah smile just a bit. "Yes my lord. Tomorrow would be perfect. What time?"

"How about 0700 HST?" Isaiah said, reverting to the acronym for Haroma Standard Time and of course his military time that was so ingrained.

"I can do that!" Sasha said with not even slightly hidden excitement. "Where will we meet?"

"Frostfall Palace. I can send a shuttle over to the University for you, and the guards will be made aware of your arrival." Isaiah said after a moment of thought.

"Thank you sir!" She said. "I look forward to tomorrow morning."

Isaiah did not look forward to the interview. He hated the University of Norovona and all its students, especially the leftist Journalism majors, but she managed to contact him directly and that was worth looking into at the very least. It meant someone wanted this to happen, and if that was the case then it was something outside Isaiah's plans. That worried him, but also made him very curious. Tomorrow would tell just what this really was.

Culminations 15, 994 ISY

Yesterday went along as usual. Isaiah did his paperwork, had lunch, then did some more. Finally he had dinner, punched his wife after she made a stupid remark, then went to sleep in one of his guest rooms. He didn't want to be anywhere near his wife, and the guards were well aware of this. Their loyalty rested with the head of state; and that was Isaiah, not his wife. Her room had no protection overnight, just to spite her. And for that reason, Isaiah slept incredibly well, thanks in part to his Captain of the Guard joining him.

The morning of the 15th proceeded as the day before had, just in a different room. He did wear something more formal though. He changed into a full business suit, with the jacket and a tie, before heading to his office. He was going to speak with Sasha in his office instead of somewhere else in the Palace, just because it made him feel slightly more secure. If she tried something in there, his guards would lock the whole area down and she'd be trapped. It would be quite amusing to watch.

As the clock ticked over to 0700, Isaiah checked on the information on Frostfall. Sensors detected movement of an unknown, plus a guard, going through the study. Good. They were roughly on time. As that went through Isaiah's mind, the door to the office opened, and the guard allowed Sasha in. She was obvious given that she was carrying a recorder plus a computer. She wasn't going to like that she wouldn't be able to set her laptop on the desk, but so be it. She is the one that wanted the interview, not Isaiah.

Sasha drew closer, and Isaiah let out a long sigh of frustration. He hated canines. This was no different. Sasha, of course, is a wolf, and a relatively young one at that. Isaiah could fake a dog allergy now, but that'd be too obvious. She bounded over to the desk after climbing up the stairs, gave a quick bow, and then sat down. It was all entirely unaware of royal customs, but Isaiah wasn't going to say a word about that.

"Missus Asusa, I presume?" Isaiah finally said.

She gave a quick nod. "Thank you for this opportunity my l-"

Isaiah cut her off. "Just for the love of Ch'sylar call me Isaiah, or sir if you must. The 'my lord' bullshit gets old fast when everyone does it every chance they get."

"Yes sir. Thank you." She said. "I hope you're ready to just go?" She was silent, and Isaiah just gave a wave of his hand telling her to get on with it, essentially. Sasha gave another nod as she set the recorder on his desk. It was a new one, one that'd be able to record about 24 hours' worth of talking. "Good morning sir. I just had a few questions first. I'd like to get to know a bit about those I interview so that the questions I want to ask are framed within the context of... well, you. I hope that's not a problem?"

"Not at all, just don't get too personal with those questions." Isaiah said.

Another nod from Sasha, and she continued. "First, could you tell me a bit about your life before the war?"

Isaiah just shook his head and laughed. "I was a starry eyed fool that joined the Army hoping to do something with my life. You know, the story of just about everyone that joined."

Sasha nodded. "What were you going to do besides joining the Army?"

"Honestly? I was joining because I wanted to do five years, get out, and then go back to school." Isaiah said.

"To study what?" Came the question almost immediately.

Again, Isaiah laughed. "Music, of all things. I used to play the piano quite often. Before I joined the Army, I had a performance in Gracaria I was going to play. But my brother wanted me to join with him and we could both be in the same unit."

"You have a brother?"

"Had." Isaiah corrected, and gave Sasha a stern glare, in the hopes that she'd catch on.

She paused for a moment, then seemed to have caught on. "I am curious, and this may be too personal, but did you have any relationships before the war?"

"Of course." Isaiah said. It was personal, but it wasn't too personal. "I had a Vervortian woman I was courting. She was nobility, beautiful for a bear, and we got along great."

"What happened to her?"

"She's the Captain of the Guard." Isaiah said. "The war caused issues for both of us."

Sasha didn't even miss a beat. "So what made you marry your current wife?"

"A terrible mistake." Isaiah said with a laugh. "Got her pregnant, had to marry her otherwise I'd cause a scandal. She was Remnoran nobility and all that. Father told me if I didn't marry her, I'd probably not become Emperor. This was after my brother had died and I was definitely taking the throne. So I married her, because I wanted to be Emperor. Now I really wish I never wanted to be the fucking Emperor."

That was definitely not in the history books at all. This was the backroom dealing that went on inside a noble house. And now Sasha was getting a first hand look at just how things worked among royalty and nobility. "That's... not the story I heard." She said.

"No one hears that story. No one wants to." Isaiah said. "Let's move on though."

"So you were a Drop Trooper. Why did you go that route?" Sasha asked.

"Because I love falling through an atmosphere in a shoddy metal pod while praying to the gods that the pod doesn't breach because my armor isn't rated for vacuum." Isaiah said.

Sasha blinked at that response. "So you were in it for the thrill?"

That made Isaiah chuckle. "Absolutely. It seemed like a great idea, an awesome idea. It was dangerous as hell, but it seemed like fun. Plus my brother was doing it."

She nodded. "So basically you had a lot of things going for you, and the Army was just a way to kind of reinforce it all and give you some record of having served?"

Isaiah thought that over. It was mostly accurate. "Kind of. I joined the Army because I looked up to my brother. I wanted to be like him. Then I wanted to leave and get an education. Study music, go back to what I enjoyed doing." Sasha opened her mouth to ask a question, and Isaiah already knew what it was going to be. "I enjoyed playing the piano. I figured if I knew something about music I could get somewhere with it. Either way, the Army was a means to an end. Anastasia's father wouldn't let me marry her if I didn't have military training anyway. So that was-"

"Anastasia?" Sasha asked, cutting Isaiah off.

"Yes, the Captain of the Guard, the woman I was going to marry if everything had gone right." Isaiah said, ignoring the fact he was cut off.

"Oh. Sorry." Sasha said.

"Anyway," Isaiah continued, "I was joining because I wanted to make something of myself. I never expected what actually happened."

"How long did you end up serving in the Army?" She asked.

Isaiah closed his eyes and thought that over. "Thirty years. I retired as a Colonel." He said after a moment.

The next question almost annoyed Isaiah, but it was worded in a way that it avoided the sensitive issue. Sasha asked, "What was your toughest fight?"

"The Battle of Haroma." Isaiah said immediately. "Everything about it."

Sasha nodded. "Let's start at the beginning though maybe? What happened at the start?"

"It was a cluster fuck." Isaiah said. "The first day was a flurry." He paused.

There was a lot to go over. This girl wanted him to tell the story of a war that she probably only hears of in passing, never actually thinking about. Knowing most of her kind, she probably was raised on one of the back worlds of the Empire, away from the combat, away from the rationing and the chaos. This story, Isaiah figured, was probably her wanting to understand just what she grew up during, and what actually went on. If that was the case, Isaiah would sympathize with that, and respect her more for it.

After the pause, Isaiah nodded. "Alright, let's start from the beginning..."