Chapter 89
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Parliament Under Siege
The retreat order had barely gone out when the entire army erupted in uproar, but the Imperial fleet's discipline was ironclad. The four hundred thousand ships that had been bristling for battle just half an hour ago swiftly turned about in the vast expanse of space, embarking on a full-speed journey back home.
The Emperor sat in the flagship's top command center, his face ashen as he set down the communicator. Major General Isaac immediately asked, "How's the situation, Your Majesty?"
"The Dark Star fleet has breached the Ursa Major 65328 space gate and is heading toward Castor in Gemini. The Ninth Fleet dragged Aaron out of the hospital and rushed to the front lines, but the enemy outnumbers them four to one. We have to rush back to reinforce them."
"Why not pull in the local garrison from the Ursa Major system?" Isaac asked, utterly baffled.
"They've been wiped out."
"...Impossible!"
"Anything's possible when you're fighting the Dark Star Hall." The Emperor gave a wry smile and continued, "Didn't Douglas Consertlin send us a few intel keys? Go check the Alliance intelligence archives. Back when the Alliance fought the Dark Star Hall, entire fleets would vanish one after another—all tossed into five-dimensional space to drift forever... Tell the Ninth Fleet not to engage them head-on. Watch out for space traps, or if they get thrown in, we really won't be able to pull them out."
Major General Isaac saluted and left. He returned shortly after. "General Aaron says he understands. He mentioned he's still having trouble controlling it—the Dark Star Hall mark flares up every few hours. He's afraid of hurting anyone, so he's told his guards to cuff him whenever it happens."
The Emperor nodded, standing before the porthole and gazing at the magnificent nebula in the distance. He fell silent for a long moment.
Isaac glanced at the Emperor's expression, weighing his words carefully before asking cautiously, "Do you think... how did Marshal Celia get around Parliament to collude with the Dark Star Hall?"
He hid it well, but a trace of irritation still seeped into his tone.
"He didn't team up with the Dark Star Hall." Heinrich slowly shook his head. "If I'm right, Yunes was just a knife in his hand this time... Have you ever wondered why Yunes went to Phantom Void Star to retrieve Celia's memories? It was all calculated years ago. This 'besiege Wei to rescue Zhao' today is just part of the plan."
Isaac was stunned. "What plan?!"
The Emperor didn't answer his subordinate right away. He stared out at the vast sea of stars, where the Andromeda M31 galaxy shimmered brilliantly in space, its disk slowly rotating, its radiant stellar ocean reflected in full in his ice-blue eyes.
"The memories Yunes retrieved from Phantom Void Star were fake. On the eve of the decisive battle fifty years ago, Celia foresaw the Galactic War's outcome: defeat for the Alliance. So he entrusted modified memories to the Phantom Void Star people. Whatever hints he planted in them drove Yunes to attack the Empire for some secret. Then, while we fight like snipe and clam, the Alliance can swoop in for the fisherman's profit... That's why the Phoenix mecha shut down on its own—there's a corpse in the cockpit, and the memories that Phantom Void Star person carried were real, different from the version on Phantom Void Star."
The Emperor paused, as if something had occurred to him, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly. "—So that's what that note was about. Just a tool to boost credibility..."
Even so, it wasn't a tool just anyone could think of. That bloody betrayal, hardened over centuries into an indelible scar, was effortlessly dressed up by a fabricated note into youthful recklessness and a lifelong regret. Whether Yunes believed it or not, that note drew out everything Celia wanted to say: We might never go back, but you can still seize the present—and what you want now is right here in the Empire.
—If the Dark Star Hall doesn't move, the Alliance loses nothing. The plan costs nothing but a tearjerker script. But if they do move, the Alliance is rid of the million-strong army at its gates...
"No wonder he's the Marshal," the Emperor sighed, a hint of regret in his tone. "He foiled my plan. I thought I'd flush Celia out of the Alliance military right then and there..."
"Does that mean it was all for nothing?" The scarred man felt a pang of regret too.
The Emperor thought it over and shook his head. "Not quite. The terms I offered them are too tempting. Just change a name, and they get unimaginable perks. Do you really think Parliament won't bite on this pie falling from the sky?"
"Only two kinds of people could turn down an offer like that: brain-dead idiots who can't read a word no matter what, or wise statesmen with iron wills who won't budge. Celia's a true statesman, sure—but the masses aren't idiots. Which of those parliamentarians really wants war? Who wouldn't prefer a life of power and wealth? Once word gets out, public opinion will turn. The Celia who rejects me today will be the biggest target for their rage."
The scarred man frowned in thought for a moment. "But what if Marshal Celia agrees too..." He laughed at his own words before finishing. "Fine, if the Alliance really surrenders, we just pay them off yearly. Give it a few years, and it'll peacefully evolve on its own—no need for us to spend blood and treasure fighting."
The Emperor disagreed. "No, Celia won't surrender."
His voice was quiet, but the conviction in it rang like a hammer on stone, unyielding. Isaac jerked his head up, only to hear the Emperor continue, "Celia knows me, and he knows the Alliance. That's exactly why he won't surrender, even if the entire military puts knives to his throat—because he knows that the moment the Alliance declares surrender, its spirit dies for good. The nation will be dismantled, its people left to the mercy of others, its entire socioeconomic system reduced to a vassal... It will never, ever rise again as a power."
The Alliance folding into the Empire's system? Politely put, one country two systems; bluntly, a colonial sector. Few would stare that bloody truth in the face. While everyone else feasts on the windfall pie, what happens to the dissenting Celia?
I beat you on military strategy, but you've lost even worse in the political arena... The Emperor gazed at the receding Andromeda nebula beyond the porthole, its hundred billion stars weaving two brilliant spiral arms across the galactic disk, like that legendary Greek princess bound in chains deep in the void.
"Andromeda's hands are still bound in chains..." the Emperor murmured softly, a cold glint of amusement rising in his eyes.
··
As the Emperor gazed at the Andromeda nebula from space, Celia was propped against the sink on his elbows, vomiting until he nearly brought up bile.
The bathroom door was locked from inside. The quiet room echoed only with his wretched retching. The gryphon bounced in the air as a glowing orb. "How did this happen? Didn't you take your suppressants? Was it on purpose? Why's the reaction so bad? Hey, want some hot water? I'll check the database and whip up a special diet for you..."
Its tone brimmed with concern, but the unmistakable excitement underneath was impossible to miss. Celia suddenly snatched it mid-bounce. Amid the orb's yelps, he lifted his head and said coldly, "I took my suppressants."
The gryphon: "..."
A few seconds later, it dawned on the gryphon. "His Majesty is incredible... Ow!!"
Celia flicked it away with a finger. He splashed water on his face, wiped off the droplets haphazardly, and strode out. Karyan was waiting in the corridor outside the bathroom. As Celia emerged, a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. "Sir..."
Celia shot him a glance.
"Major General Mo Wen has sent troops to surround the assembly hall. All the congressmen trying to break out have been rounded up—no one's missing."
"Proceed with the vote immediately?" Karyan asked, his face impassive.
Celia nodded and headed straight for the assembly hall.
Parliament was a powder keg now, ready to blow at the slightest spark. From the military's encirclement of the Capitol building that morning, eight full hours had passed—no food, no water, no bathroom breaks. These pampered congressmen had finally been pushed to the brink.
"What the hell do you want?! This is murder! Outright murder!" As Celia entered the assembly hall, a disheveled congressman leaped to his feet, roaring furiously. "Give us food and water! Let us out! Where's Marshal Celia?! Let us out—!"
A soldier rushed forward and forced him down. The man thrashed wildly, but the soldier cuffed him and stuffed his expensive tie into his mouth, finally muffling his cries.
A few others who'd been itching to make noise went weak-kneed and slumped back into their seats at the sight. "W-what is this? You can't do this..."
Major General Mo Wen spotted Celia at the door and hurried over, snapping a salute. Celia returned it stone-faced and motioned for Karyan to follow. The two flanked the candidate's podium.
The assembly hall was ringed by fully armed soldiers, hundreds of gun barrels trained on the congressmen. Soft sobs and murmurs buzzed throughout the chamber. On the high dais, the purple-robed senior congressmen were at their limit too—several elderly ones slumped against their chair backs, faces ashen, eyes half-closed, unclear if they were still conscious.
Douglas looked ragged too, bracing himself on the table just to stay upright. "What do you want, Marshal Celia? Starving us to death here won't help. You can't become Speaker, and you won't control the Alliance Parliament!..."
"You're calling me Marshal again now," Celia said mockingly. "Took long enough."
"..."
Douglas choked, then snapped, "I get it! You just want to keep your grip on the military, stay the almighty Alliance Commander! Dream on—the Alliance's power lies with the majority. A traitor like you will never get Parliament's votes! When the Capital Defense Force arrives to rescue us—"
Eager glances shot his way from the floor, but Celia shattered the illusion. "There is no Capital Defense Force."
"—What?"
"No Capital Defense Force, Mr. Douglas. Eight hours ago, when the Glory Legion stormed this building, the Capital Defense Force was bombed to bits behind them. The survivors are in jail with the military police."
Douglas's face twisted into a spectacular mask of shock. "Impossible..."
"Then wait," Celia said with a subtle smile. "Wait for that Capital Defense Force that'll never come. Or wait for the election to end, and we'll rebuild one."
Douglas's last card was flipped. He staggered and collapsed into his chair. Despair and shock rippled through the congressmen—some wailed and struggled, others jumped up in agitation only to faint from low blood sugar before a word escaped.
Douglas muttered, "You can't do this, Celia. You're killing people... Killing them in broad daylight..."
"I can." Celia's voice was calm. "I told you—this is war."
His words weren't loud, but the bone-deep resolve pierced every heart. Douglas gaped up at him, as if seeing the man anew for the first time. After a long pause, he trembled, "You want everyone to vote for you to stay military commander? No—you're an Omega. The troops will never follow you, and by military law, you don't even qualify to run!"
Celia stared at him for a long moment, then curved his lips in a smile.
It was an odd smile—genuinely amused, faintly teasing, laced with deep irony and self-mockery. A shadow of doubt flitted through Douglas, but before he could speak, Celia asked, "When did I say I wanted you to vote for me?"
Everyone froze.
"Former Glory Legion Deputy Commander Major General Anatoli Don Karyan—outstanding talent, battle-hardened veteran—has been nominated by the military as my successor, the next Alliance Marshal candidate. Major General Karyan hails from the local garrison in Ophiuchus, has served the Alliance military for nearly four centuries, and racked up countless victories in campaigns large and small. I'm sure Parliament knows him well."
Celia clapped Karyan on the shoulder, ignoring the man's jaw-dropping shock.
"As my aide and protégé, Major General Karyan has studied under me for over a century—a capable successor ready to shoulder the Alliance command. Today, I'll watch you cast your sacred votes until I get the result I want."
"And until that result comes, you'll be stripped of the right to leave this place—no food, no water, no leaving your seats, no outside contact. I urge you gentlemen to hurry. I don't want anyone fainting from hunger or thirst. There's no doctor here, and what awaits you is clear."
The cold voice echoed through the ornate hall. All eyes locked in disbelief on Karyan, whose stunned gaze fixed on Celia.
But Celia ignored it all, turning to the congressmen and giving a polite nod.
"Now, pick up your tablets. Vote."