Intergalactic conquest with an AI

The truth clicked into place with the cold certainty of a lock turning. This was not about heroism or even about simple scavenging. This was a prospector staring at a map, his eyes seeing not a monster, but a vein of gold so rich it defied imagination.

{If a single mothership contains crystals of such immense value...} the unspoken thought echoed in the silent space between his heartbeats, what unimaginable treasures must lie on an entire Void planet?

He wasn't planning a raid; he was scouting the first outpost of a new, galactic-scale empire he intended to plunder.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Cleo's lips, there and gone in an instant. She didn't look at Rex. She didn't need to. She knew he would have felt the shift in the champion's aura, the brief, unguarded flash of naked ambition that betrayed his entire performance.

She leaned back, the picture of calm curiosity, but her next question was a needle aimed directly at the heart of his true motive.

"A fascinating proposition," she said, her voice a soft contrast to the champion's fervent tone. "The crystals are a powerful incentive, certainly. But your vision seems... larger than a single ship. Tell me, Champion, in all your research, what have you learned about their worlds?"

The planetary champion's eyes, which had been alight with ecstasy just a moment before, cooled, the fervor receding like a tide to be replaced by his usual calculated calm.

"The information we have on their territories is limited," he admitted, choosing his words with newfound care.

"But there are legends. An expedition, over three hundred years ago, ventured deep into the uncharted void. They returned with a single Void crystal, so immense and pure that its sale single-handedly bankrolled the founding of a galactic megacorporation!"

He could not keep the excited tremor from his voice; the dream of such a payoff was laid bare. "So, you are referring to the rise of Nexum Dynamics," Cleo stated, her tone flat and unimpressed.

"It is true that one crystal built their throne. But the price they paid that day was so catastrophic that even now, with all their wealth and power, they have not fully recovered from the loss."

With a casual flick of her wrist, she summoned a cascade of holo-screens, each displaying faded, classified reports and fragmented logs from the ancestors of Nexum Dynamics themselves.

"As these records show, the expedition they sent was not a mere scouting party. It was an armada. One hundred thousand vessels. Among them, nearly two hundred Super Capital ships, the pride of the fleet."

She zoomed in on the final, haunting images of the return. The vessels that limped home were scarcely recognizable as ships. Hulls were gouged open, superstructures melted into twisted skeletons, and engines flickered with dying light.

It was a miracle they had managed to traverse the void at all. The mighty Super Capitals were conspicuously absent; the largest ship to survive was a lone, mangled light destroyer, surrounded by a handful of battered frigates.

"H-how is it that you have this?" the champion stammered, his composure fracturing. His eyes were wide, darting between the damning screens.

"This data... it was purged! There is nothing of this kind in the megacorp's public archives! You must be lying!" He leaned forward, squinting at the image of the scarred light destroyer. "...Hold on. That ship... it looks oddly familiar..."

"Of course it looks familiar," Cleo replied, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

She snapped her fingers lightly, and the central holo-screen changed to display a grand, polished hologram of that very same light destroyer, restored to its former glory, enshrined as the centerpiece of the main lobby in Nexum Dynamics' corporate headquarters.

"It is not that the Nexum Dynamics database lacks this information," she clarified, her gaze piercing through the champion. "It is that you do not possess the necessary level of clearance to see it."

With another snap, all the holo-screens winked out of existence, plunging the room back into a tense silence. Cleo leaned back, steepling her fingers, her expression unreadable as she awaited the planetary champion's reaction.

The air itself seemed to grow heavy, the weight of her revelation crushing his ambitious dreams under the cold, hard boot of reality.

Having utterly crushed the planetary champion's dream, Rex broke the heavy silence with a gesture of domestic normalcy that felt both absurd and intimidating.

He poked another piece of fruit against Cleo's cheek, his immense hand then gently guiding her head to rest back against his chest, a clear signal that the audience was concluding.

"And there you have it, my friend," Rex said, his voice a low rumble. "While it is a shame about that grand dream of yours... our cooperation to raid that mothership still stands. Our price is twenty percent of all the crystals we find."

He didn't wait for a rebuttal. "After all, I am certain you will be inviting other... interested parties to join our little expedition, am I right?" Rex continued, his silvery eyes glinting with cold amusement.

"Otherwise, I would have been forced to ask for a much larger share." As he spoke, his gaze was fixed on the champion's face, specifically on the subtle, twitching tentacles that framed his mouth.

Rex was privately fascinated by how expressive they were, betraying every flicker of despair and frustration that the champion's voice worked so hard to conceal.

The planetary champion seemed to deflate in his throne, the grand illusion of his ambition replaced by the stark reality of a mere business deal. He let out a long, defeated sigh, the sound seeming to sap the remaining tension from the room.

"Very well," he conceded, his voice hollow. "We have a deal. Now then, if you will excuse me, I still have other guests to attend to. I will contact you once we are ready to depart. The preparations will take, at the earliest, one year. At the longest, three."

"Mmm, you see to it," Rex replied, already rising with Cleo cradled effortlessly in the crook of one arm. "And do not trouble yourself about being unable to contact me. I plan to remain in this sector for at least twenty years. Well then, I will take my leave."

The difference in their sizes was striking; Rex, a mountain of a man at nearly two and a half meters tall, made Cleo, at her graceful height of one hundred and seventy centimeters, seem like a perfect, portable treasure against him. He carried her from the mansion without a backward glance, leaving the champion alone in the ruins of his own negotiation.

Meanwhile...

[Planet Kator—Under Kaelzar Control]

The scene shifted from the opulent mansion to the dusty, wind-scoured plains of a conquered world. The air on Kator tasted of rust and decay. Before a massive, abandoned fortress that scarred the horizon, a line of armored vehicles stood poised.

"Admiral, we have located one of the major rebel cells. They are dug in deep, hiding within that fortress," a local enforcer reported, his voice crackling over the comms. He stood at attention before Carlos, his posture a mixture of fear and respect.

Carlos stood as the very picture of a dignified war veteran. He was clad not in bulky combat armor but in an elegant, tailored military suit of deep obsidian and silver, a design Cleo herself had conceived for the admirals of their fleet.

It was a symbol of authority that spoke of civilization and order, a stark contrast to the savage rebellion they faced. His eyes, cold and analytical, scanned the fortress's formidable defenses.

"Mmm, good," Carlos acknowledged, his voice calm and devoid of any heated emotion. This was not a battle of passion but a surgical operation.

"We will proceed as planned. Initiate Phase One. Smoke them out." The order was given with the simple finality of a man closing a ledger.

After the Kaelzar forces had conquered Kator from the tyrannical supreme commander who had murdered the planetary champion's lineage, the remnants of the old regime had festered like a wound, transforming into desperate, violent rebels.

For months, their attacks had grown bolder and more brutal, escalating to a point that demanded a definitive response. Rex had sent Carlos, his most methodical commander, not just to fight, but to end the conflict once and for all.

"Understood, Admiral. Impact in ten... mark."

High above the scarred landscape, the bellies of three Kaelzar frigates yawned open. Like predatory birds emerging from a steel cloud, five bombers sleeked into a dive, their engines a muted whine against the thin atmosphere.

The order to "smoke them out" was executed with terrifying literalness. The fortress, a hulking relic of a bygone era, vanished for a moment behind a series of blinding flashes, followed by a rolling, concussive thunder that shook the very ground beneath Carlos's boots.

Eight tons of high-explosive payload descended with mathematical precision, calculated to collapse entrances, shred defensive positions, and turn strongholds into tombs... all without completely leveling the structure. The goal was not annihilation, but eviction.

Dust and debris plumed into the sky in great, grey columns. And as the echoes of the detonations faded, a new sound emerged... the frantic, disorganized clamor of survival.

Figures, small and desperate against the stone ruins, began to pour from hidden exits and blasted-open fissures in the fortress walls. They scrambled into the open, coughing and firing wild, unaimed shots into the smoky air.

"So, the rats are driven from their den..." Carlos murmured, his voice devoid of triumph, merely stating an observed fact.