Docking

The cruiser lightly floated in space, preparing to dock on the Manufacture World. It had the vague shape of an oversized spoon, with the bow being the thinnest that slowly expands until the stern, six thrusters decorated the back of the newly-built cruiser.

These were the Vanzin Drives, the warp drive that all Imperial ships were made to outfit. Made by the eccentric Ivan Vanzin prior to the Great Collapse. He was the love-child of an American physicist and a Russian doctor, making him exceptionally smart. After his father died due to a mysterious accident, he swore to himself when he was young to fullfil his father's dream to map the stars. Decades of research and proving later, he successfully demonstrated the Drive capable of going FTL, he was awarded a Nobel Prize shortly after. Not long after that, he finally knew the truth of his father's death due to a sympathetic higher-up who knew of the operation. Apparently, his father died when his car was sabotaged by corporate agents by the order of his rival, Albert Ingram. Albert Ingram was the scion of the Heretia magnate, a megacorporation, but after seeing his biology work be overshadowed by his physics, he couldn't take it. He quickly ordered his most loyal subordinates to assassinate like he did to many unfortunate souls before.

Seeing this, Ivan made a plan; he would bait Ingram to do a bad thing, secretly record it, and, after vehemently denying it, he would drop this bombshell on the court, supported by his contribution to Humankind, the politicians and colonists won't just waver under a measly paygrade when they could get both achievements and more money in the long-term.

Surprisingly, it worked. After a court case that failed miserably on the defending side. The now-CEO of Heretia Digital, Albert Ingram was arrested, along with his subordinates.

An eccentric man, with an awe-inspiring story, truly a hero of Humankind.

Anyway...

Sirius was walking down a flight of stairs, holo-pad in hand–which looked like an I-pad up close–with a concentrated face. Behind him, was Alistair, the Anti-material Gauss Rifle slung across her back, she hadn't concealed it, earning them a few scared looks from passerbys, she was wearing a bored facade. In reality, she was inspecting the passerbys, most of the trip, for threats. She can't be too careful, especially due to the often cutthroat environment of Calradian politics. Due to making one of the core beliefs of society, Elitism, the clandestine political world brimmed with activity, often subduing each other with meticulous plans, indirectly involving them in "unfortunate accidents" or a sudden demoting. To make the politics even more dangerous, the prize you had for getting and then maintaining your position for many decades was eternal life. Literally. Once you held it long enough, it is said that a red letter with a note and a vial will suddenly arrive at your desk. Inside that note was a congratulatory speech, however, what was more eye-catching was what was inside the vial, as described by the letter, the vial contained the fabled Immortality Serum, made by the Grandfather of Eternal Life, Leon Sinclair. It was a twisted form of natural selection, and it worked. However, the Elders, seniors who had earned the Serum and retired, say that it was a necessary evil, to make sure Humanity's leaders were as skilled as possible.

The Sinclair family had made their shocking debut after the Unity Wars, by saying that they had finally unlocked the vial for eternal life. Immediately after that, the vial was secured by government agents, and their announcement censored. Despite the riling speech about the next step of evolution, the prototype serum still had devastating side effects. Even if it granted eternal life, you would spend that life in eternal suffering, the nanites in the serum were also a prototype, disrupting the affected's genes to fatal effect.

So, it was banned and the common man didn't know of it's existence until much later.

Alistair eyed the people vigilantly, they were going to and fro everywhere, no doubt responding to the captain's recent orders to dock and then march into the city into a specified location. It was pretty suspicious, no doubt, but they couldn't refuse an order from their superior, they could get demoted. Alistair sighed. Something about this was wrong and she was determined to know what.

[-]

The layout of Forge was arranged in a grid; the Administration, and Military zones were in the Inner and the Residential, Entertainment, and Factory zones were in the Outer. Forge was the size of a small continent, making it a Megalopolis of mind-racking size. Of course, not as majestic as the ecological-aware ecumenopolis of Merribourne, the industrial heart of the Imperium. It was commendable, though. In a structure resembling that of a 18th century English mansion, in an ornate room, was a tall man, 6'4, reading the latest news of the Imperium on his holo-tab, he scrolled through the articles containing jargon like it was second nature, only focusing on military aspects. He saw an article with the title being: 'Altaras system has finally been liberated by the IAF, the debut of a heroic psychic, also present...' .The man raised his left eyebrow in curiously, before making a 'Hmph' of acknowledgement. Apparently, the aforementioned psychic overloaded the drive of a Chimera-class Frigate. Nothing he couldn't do, but worthy of praise nonetheless.

He was currently in a room laden with a wall made of a mixture of wood and concrete, to the front of him was a carpet with various patterns on the bottom of a glass table, with a sofa on the east and west side of it. Beyond that, was a door that can only open through a doorknob; an exceptionally rare sight, and was only used for cosmetic purposes now. To the left of the door was the flag of the Imperium: The upper torso of a golden eagle with olive leaves on it's sides, a shield that encompasses the eagle with a white outline on the outside and black on the inside, with two swords in a V shape behind the eagle, and a red background. The eagle represents their rise to power; like an eagle taking flight. The shield represents their readiness to protect the innocent, and their country. The swords represent the two biggest military forces in the IAF, the Imperial Navy and the Imperial Marine Corps. The red background represents the blood of the men and women that worked tirelessly to turn a man's ambition into reality. This was the Imperial Flag, a sign of the sovereign of Man, of gallant men saving damsels from the monstrous xenos, of people, no matter how high or low, working for the promise of an ordinary life. The man looked at the article for a little more, before sighing a tired sigh, and swiveled his head to the side to look at himself in the nearby mirror.

The man was wearing a military black coat, the arms of said coat was strangely vacant. Under that coat, was a suit with a red tie and an ornate brooch in his breast pocket, resembling a mixture of a star and a cross. He had a sharp jawline, brown eyes, jet-black hair, and an equally sharp nose; he was deathly handsome. He wore a cap, with an eagle in the center, and on his left arm was an armband with a symbol; a circle with a black outline, and in it, three interlocking white triangles, under a dark blue background.

It was a gift when he passed the test to become a Nova operative, a position as prestigious as a Knight Mech Pilot. A Nova operative was essentially a supersoldier that would be the supporting force right after the Vanguard to secure important areas. Although there are not many of them; only ten thousand total. They were nonetheless forces to be reckoned with, not only are they proficient at psychic warfare, but they are also exceptional CQC experts. They were founded shortly after the end of the Unity Wars, headed first by the Founder's half-brother, Colton Pendragon. Being the elitists that they are, mass eugenic campaigns soon swept across the Imperium's many worlds, offering the 'fit' to be educated at prestigious schools, regardless of birth, while the 'unfit' were drafted into the military as grunts or did common jobs, like garbage collecting. That practice was mirrored in the preparation and then the subsequent creation of Nova. Promising recruits that were more ambitious than their Marine counterpart joined the Nova Initiative, a training program that seeks to uplift the normal rook to greater heights. The training was hellish, brutal, the men in charge seemingly did not care for the wellbeing of their fatigued rookies, if one where to faint from exhaustion he would immediately be disqualified from the Initiative and taken to the nearest hospital. It was both exhausting mentally and physically, and they had to do it daily! A decade of hellish training, genetic engineering, and implant surgeries greeted the men who joined, many quit from it, while the stories from those who did squashed the hope of passing from those who hadn't signed yet. After a decade, the first batch was finally finished; out of the 25,000 of the first batch, only 48 remained.

At that time, there was a mass rebellion on a nearby agri-world called Aren, headed by theologian extremists. Colton quickly seized this opportunity to convince his half-brother to stop the passing of the cutting of governmental funds. All 48 of them were quickly deployed on a virtually lost city, Crenia. At first, the higher-ups thought he had gone mad, which was not a stretch given the training that were extreme, even on Imperial standards. Once they were on the city, the balance of power quickly shifted. To the higher-ups surprise and Colton's smug grin, the newly trained operatives, were swift, efficient, brutal, they did not even need to speak to relay their orders. In only a few hours, the separatists were routed, stricken with fear by the intimidating prototype armor and skill of the newcomers. Hundreds had died, laying on the cracked, asphalt roads, while the operative had almost no casualties at all. They sliced and diced through enemies with melee, demoralizing them further, like they were pitted against their own all-powerful demons. The battle was broadcasted through biological psychic antenna, capable of broadcasting information in FTL speeds through a psychic connection; they were made up of psychic worms.

In only a few hours, Colton had saved Nova, through a display of power and sheer might. Funding was resumed, and even more recruits volunteered to be in Initiative, although most would never be seen on the same news. The man's name was Jayden Pierce, a man who was both a Nova operative and a successful commando; an undoubtedly rare sight. Suddenly, there were three knocks on his door. "Come in." said Jayden in a young, yet stern voice. The door opened to a petite girl, with golden eyes and was wearing a pink sweater. She eerily looks like Mirai Kuriyama, hair, clothes and all.

"H-hello, sir." the girl replied timidly, "The fleet is underway, only a few minutes left till arrival, s-sir..." the girl replied nervously. Jayden suddenly stood up, momentarily startling the girl, he slowly walks to her. Her heart was practically beating out of her chest, she was clearly panicked. 'Oh, no! What is he going to do to me?! I hope I don't get punished!' she thought. Jayden was in front of her now, easily dwarfing her, making her even more nervous than she was before. He reached out one arm to her. She makes a nervous face in anticipation, which is actually really cute.

Jayden patted her head, his brotherly instincts taking over him. He caressed her silky hair gently, as if petting a cat, then ruffles the hair, an action he usually does on dogs. The girl was surprised, but was then embarrassed, a pink tint visible on her fair face. "U-um, s-sir, w-we shouldn't be doing this!" her voice cracked at the last words, amplifying her cuteness even more.

'So cute...' Jayden thought inwardly. He mentally pats himself on the back for scouting her, and turning up a 20. Not only was she insanely cute, but made a great secretary for his many needs, such as relieving stress with the timely delivery of coffee. Of course, being the professional soldier that he is, it didn't take him long to realize he was basically petting her. He retracted his right arm, for only a second he saw the gleeful face of the girl, and he suddenly wanted it back again.

And this was probably the perfect place for a headpatting, or a knee pillow, if you're bold enough. But this was not the time. Jayden quickly cleared his throat, "Good work, Adjutant Mira. Tell everyone to rendezvous in the courtyard at the front." Jayden produced his answers with a crisp, calming, voice, a standard model voice for any officer. "Yes, sir!" the petite girl, named Mira, enthusiastically obliged.

Jayden made a soft smile, before going to the farther right of the room, a sheathe hanging lazily on a coat rack was present. Jayden takes the sheathe, when upon closer inspection was the ornate scabbard for a katana. Mira looked at the katana with awe, knowing it's power just by looking at the menacing gold-red scabbard.

Jayden quickly turns around, his cape fluttering by the non-existant winds. He walked swiftly, saluting Mira, before going finally into the lobby.