Free-Willed Humans (2)
Day 14 of ascension.
"What the fuck?!"
A problem had arisen. The paperwork had piled up way too much.
"Is this what it feels like to sleep on the floor?"
He'd passed out while staring at documents, and upon waking, only about three hours had passed—but collapsing right onto the floor where he'd dozed off was becoming routine now. There was no day-night cycle anymore, and with work piling up endlessly and no set sleep schedule anyway, it didn't seem like a big issue yet.
Leo decided to call this phenomenon "paperwork coma."
Still, it wasn't all loss. In the midst of it, some go-getters from the MEGA Special Committee had shown up.
These patriots had instantly grasped what he was aiming for. They were a small faction of about five people, centered around Dominic Habsburg—a guy who'd briefly strutted his stuff before getting sidelined.
Faction was putting it nicely; they were an odd group expanding their influence purely on name value and sheer hustle.
'Good. This is what we need—internal factions competing, pushing and pulling within the party.'
It was a sign that constitutional monarchy was starting to creep in.
"The march of progress...!"
It was profoundly moving.
But a new problem emerged. The citizens had gone berserk.
"Haa... Everything's great, but these letters... all saying thanks and stuff..."
He couldn't just ignore them, could he? Who was he? The people's emperor, the reformist monarch stepping up to fix the empire, a national-power-level streamer with over 800 trillion subscribers.
If the congressmen were agonizing over "Where the hell is the line drawn?", the public was high on this sweet, tasty drug, cheering "Hooray!"
'The liberals are quiet, but why are the imperialists going nuts?'
Apparently, they were fighting over whether this MEGA thing was legit or not. Word was Habsburg was stirring up massive shitstorms, even heading to some border planet to do it.
Was pushing a little reform such a huge crime? Absolute monarchy had been proven tough to sustain forever—not just Earth's history, but countless nations across the galaxy confirmed it. Even the ancient "Roman Empire" had crumbled eventually.
No matter how competent he was, there was no guarantee the next emperor or king wouldn't be a tyrant or fool. So democracy—where people could boot out rulers themselves with "Who gave you that power?"—was the better alternative.
But swapping a 1,200-year tradition for full republicanism would shake the foundations too hard, so they'd settled on constitutional monarchy as a compromise. Steady steps over a sudden overhaul.
That way, even if the next emperor went rogue, parliament could check him.
"Yeah. Transitional phase. Everyone's been repressed for so long..."
Other petitions poured in too, none content to leave him be—but who was he?
"Nothing can't be solved with force!!!"
He was the emperor.
"Goddamn it, nothing in this world can stop me! If anything tries to get in my way, I'll smash the heavens themselves!"
Run things his way, enact what he wanted, veto what he didn't.
"In this world, nothing can't be solved with force!"
How far did his power extend? And above all, his eldest sister was a full-fledged Admiral in the navy.
What did that mean? He could call in a Buster Call, impose martial law for 50 years straight, and if anyone crossed the line, flatten everything and start over.
Of course, starting from scratch would be exhausting. But if things got that bad, it meant they'd already twisted beyond saving—and a parliament built exactly to his specs wouldn't disappoint or backstab him.
No way.
"Yeah. They're still toeing the line, just dishing out some criticism. Haa... I'm too nice. Putting up with all this."
Then, the holographic communicator buzzed. A blue light blinked on the desk in the office.
'Who the hell would call here?'
It was the imperial family's exclusive quantum communicator (QEC). Top-tier tech for real-time calls anywhere in the galaxy.
He pressed the button to check the caller ID.
"Huh? Big sis?"
It was his eldest sister's call.
*****
Selene Astraea. Admiral of the Imperial Navy's 5th Fleet, a monster general known for aggressive, hardline tactics unlike any other fleet. Above all, she was kind to her subordinates, earning her the titles "Hero of the People" and "Living Legend"—a talent-packed powerhouse.
'And she ran off to the military!'
Chaining him to this administrative throne while she jetted off for fun xeno-hunting.
'Pisses me off.'
She wore her admiral's uniform, silver hair cascading past her shoulders. Behind her, the bridge's instruments and screens were visible.
"You holding up okay?"
"Long time no see, sis..."
When Leo greeted her in an utterly drained voice, she tilted her head.
"What's with your face?"
"What do you mean?"
"Dark circles down to your jaw. Cheeks sunken in, lips cracked, eyes bloodshot. You look worse than when you had that flu at nine and were bedridden for a week."
"You remember that...? Yeah, it's rough."
"What the hell are you doing? It's only been ten days since ascension. Oh, sorry I missed the coronation—busy. So what's up?"
Leo sighed.
"Paperwork..."
"Paperwork?"
"Paperwork came. Lots. A ton. Way too much... The people love me too damn much."
"What kinda bullshit is that? How bad can it be—"
He showed her the twin towers of documents on his desk via hologram.
"...You're handling all that alone?"
"No prime minister yet."
"What about the secretariat?"
"Still in adjustment period—no filtering."
"...Ah, that explains it."
"Sleepy... Only got nine hours..."
"Nine hours? A day?"
"No. Weekly total. Twelve hours cumulative so far?"
Selene's expression shifted from shock to fury.
"This is why people say you take after Mom. Call for help if it's this bad. Why shoulder it all?"
"No one to call... They lack the will. We're building it, but the system's not set yet?"
"Haa... Fine. We'll talk when I get there. Anyway."
Her tone changed.
"I'm heading to Terra. With the whole 5th Fleet."
"The whole thing? Mission?"
"Done. Handled some Krogan warbands invading three systems in the Tertius Arm swap. On the way back. Three mid-to-small clans moved at once—still investigating if anyone's backing them."
"Casualties?"
"47 ships lost, about 120,000 personnel. Light, considering Krogan."
The 5th Fleet totaled around 8 million, so 1.5% losses. Average fleet battle was 3-5%, so yeah, light. But 120,000 souls meant that many families getting death notices...
'No, don't think of lives like annoyances. Crazy?!'
It was necessary. Had to accept it.
"...Good work, sis."
"It's my job."
A curt reply passed.
"Oh, by the way."
Leo changed the subject.
"Heard from second sis?"
His second sister, Aurora Astraea. Colonel in the Imperial Army's 7th Giant Regiment, callsign "Fixer." No contact since his ascension.
Selene's face stiffened slightly.
"Aurora..."
She hesitated.
"Not under my fleet, right? Fixers are airborne, separate chain of command—like firefighters hopping fronts. Not assigned to my ships, so I don't get direct updates."
"No contact at all?"
"Two weeks. Two weeks straight."
Average solo fixer op was 3-5 days; two weeks was long. Though big ops could go a month silent.
"I'm worried too," Selene said.
"You know... her bipolar. Meds manage it daily, and mania boosts her combat frenzy, so it works out... but..."
She paused.
"Depression's dangerous. She's always been anxious. How intact can her mental be after all that?"
"Ah..."
Leo recalled Aurora's face as Selene spoke. Taciturn, expressionless, hated hassle outside her Giant cockpit. But her rare smiles lit up youthfully. Stroking his head pre-sortie with a quick "Back soon," returning blood-soaked to crash on the sofa wordlessly.
"Still."
He kept his tone light deliberately.
"She's usually all smiles and pranks. Hard to tell mania from genuine cheer sometimes, but whatever. She always came back covered in gore. Our little sis will this time too."
He wasn't unworried, truth be told. But buried in paperwork towers, barely holding sanity, adding her would shatter him. Push it back. Aurora was a vet fixer. 47 official solos, all complete. She knew survival. Two weeks' gap? Fine for her.
"...Yeah. It'll be okay."
Selene nodded, convincing herself.
"She won't break easy."
After a brief silence, her tone normalized.
"Anyway, arriving soon. Thirty minutes to Terra orbit—get ready."
"Ready? Your room's always prepped in the palace."
"Not the room. Mental prep."
"For what?"
"Told you—bringing the fleet."
"...All of it?"
"All."
"The entire 5th Fleet?"
"Yep."
Leo did quick math. ~800 battleships, 1,200 cruisers, 3,000+ destroyers, plus support, supply, transports—over 6,000 total. Core: 12 dreadnoughts, and the 5th's pride/terror, one Leviathan-class super-dreadnought.
"Holy...?"
76 km long, one of humanity's 12 Leviathans, 5th Fleet flagship. Named "Valkyrie" by Selene herself.
"Dragging all those into Sol?"
"Resupply at Mars Ganymede, repairs, crew leave. Docking three months. Nonstop expeditions wore 'em out."
"Three months?"
"Repairs alone two months. Over 200 damaged ships."
"Got it."
"Oh, and."
Selene softened.
"If paperwork's killing you, want help while docked?"
"?!"
Emotions surged.
"Kya! Sis is the best!"
Four to five hours' sweet sleep daily guaranteed?! A dream?!
"...This is why I worry."
Selene sighed.
"That thrilled over paperwork help? How bad's it been..."
"Help for three months, please! Begging!!!"
"Fine, fine. Decide on arrival. Entering atmo now."
"Yeah. Waiting."
Call ended. Leo leaned back, genuine smile after ages.
"Hehe..."
Three months' reinforcements. Sure, dragging 6,000 ships—galaxy's top assault fleet—was overkill, but who cared? Her hands for offloading papers mattered.
Moments later, the sky darkened beyond the office window.
*****
Beyond Terra's stratospheric shield, in the upper atmosphere, a massive shadow loomed.
Leo approached the window, looked up. Ships appeared.
First, four dreadnoughts. 50 km metal behemoths, asteroid-sized. Formation entry into upper atmo created four artificial eclipses. Sunlight blocked, shadows swept the surface. Hundreds of km shrouded, darkness over the planet-city's hundreds of layers, ships' nav lights twinkling like stars.
Cruisers and destroyers followed in lines. Thousands of lights streaking atmo like a galactic river descending.
Last, Valkyrie. 76 km Leviathan super-dreadnought, 5th Fleet flagship. As it crested upper atmo, sun fully eclipsed; its hull dominated the sky, turning Terra's noon to twilight.
320 billion surface dwellers surely gawked skyward. The sky itself blocked.
Spectacular. Beautiful? Awe-inspiring? Terrifying?
'Anyone scheming after this won't climb anyway—they'd be insane.'
No congressman daring rebellion against a summonable 5th Fleet. Revolt worries? Minimal.
76 km war machine filling the window: beauty and terror midpoint.
One thought struck him.
'She's my sister commanding this, and she's volunteering for paperwork duty.'
Galaxy's strongest fleet admiral as paper aide. Humanity's most inefficient staffing ever.
Hologram buzzed again.
Selene's voice.
"What? You really brought the whole fleet?"
"Obviously. I don't lie."
Great sister.
"Docking at Mars Ganymede naval port. I'll shuttle down solo first. Palace in twenty."
Three months. The number lit his brain's reward center. Offload military docs. Sleep!
"Got it."
Cool exterior, but inside: 'Dump half on her for three months, I get seven hours daily.'
"Be right there. Love my lil bro?"
"Yeah."
Call cut.
Twenty minutes later, footsteps outside the office. Knock.
Knock, knock!
"Come in."
Door opened. Navy admiral uniform, silver hair ponytail, ceremonial longsword at hip, admiral insignia gleaming on shoulders. Sis appeared.
"Leo. You oka—"
Door flung wide. Palace doors were huge: 4m tall, 3m wide double wood. Swinging both ways rushed corridor air inside.
Wind hit the paperwork. Desk towers, room stacks—papers flew airborne blizzard.
Leo stood amid the paper storm.
Unlike screen views: gaunt face, circles to jaw. Bloodshot eyes, cracked lips, messy hair, wrinkled emperor robes (same for eight days). Hundreds of sheets whirling around him.
He stared at her. She at him.
Silence.
He broke it.
"Sis... country mouse or city mouse?"
Selene's smile froze.
"I like the city mouse buried in papers."
The woman unflinching at enemy ambushes, warp traps, dual Leviathans—gaped at her brother's piles.
Her gaze swept the room slowly. Back to him.
"Ah~"
Selene nodded. Turned silently.
Whoosh!
Normal pace at first. Then sprinting, vanishing from sight.
Leo blanked three seconds.
"...Huh?"
Beat one.
"Fuck?!"
Beat two.
"She ran?!"
Beat three. He slammed the desk, stood.
"Guards!! Grab sis!!"
His roar pierced office, echoed hall.
"Y-Your Majesty?!"
"Sis! Grab Selene sis! She's fleeing! That bitch ditched imperial duty!!!"
Fuck, where'd she go. Let's die together.