The Eternal Emperor

The Excalibur was gone, replaced by something far more sinister. 

Jagged edges jutted from a massive, half-formed space station that seemed to grow and shift with each passing moment. What had once been the ring surrounding Lehon was now rearranging itself, pieces slotting together like a nightmarish jigsaw puzzle. Large sections still hung misaligned, edges glowing faintly as if molten, yet the structure pulsated with an eerie rhythm that made it seem alive. 

The clones, scattered across various craft after their hasty evacuation, watched in silence. Each one processed the surreal sight differently, but the effect was universal: tension. 

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(Aboard a LAAT Gunship) 

The cramped interior of the LAAT was filled with the hum of its engines and the quiet, steady breathing of troopers packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Private Steel, seated near the open side doors, gripped the edge of his harness and stared out into the void. 

"By the regs," Steel muttered, his voice just loud enough to carry over the din, "that thing shouldn't even be standing. Look at it... it's still putting itself together." 

"Keep your eyes on your gear, Steel," Sergeant Grinder snapped from the opposite side of the gunship. "That 'thing' is enemy territory now. You want to gawk, do it after we've taken it." 

Steel swallowed hard and adjusted the strap on his rifle. Beside him, Claw, one of the squad's heavy gunners, gave him a nudge. 

"Relax," Claw said, his tone almost jovial. "Nothing in there's gonna be worse than that time Grinder got us lost on that desert op." 

The squad chuckled nervously, but the humor was short-lived as a transmission crackled over their comms. 

"All units, this is High General Lelouch. Full-scale invasion protocols are now in effect." 

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Trooper Trace held fast to the armored hull of a bulk transport, his boots magnetized to the surface. The transport, loaded with an AT-TE strapped precariously to its top, drifted slowly toward the station. 

"Careful there, Trace," Corporal Varn called over the helmet comms. "Fall off, and you'll be floating till the end of time." 

"I'd rather take my chances in the void than inside that thing," Trace replied, pointing his rifle toward the station. "You see those spires? Those aren't weapons—those are teeth." 

Varn smirked. "Then we'd better give it a bellyache." 

Above them, the AT-TE team was busy. 

"Walker team to transport command," the voice of Lieutenant Hammer came through the comms. "We've locked the tractor field generators onto your hull. Main cannon online and ready for fire support." 

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"Walker team," the transport pilot's voice came through. "You're cleared to engage. Find us an entry point, and keep it open." 

"Copy that," Hammer replied. "Gunner, fire when ready." 

"Cannon charging!" came the gunner's voice, excitement lacing his words. "Target locked. Firing!" 

The mass-driver cannon roared, and the impact lit up the hull of the station. A faint glow surrounded the breach, but the jagged metal resisted giving way entirely. 

"Again!" Hammer ordered. 

Another blast rocked the transport, then another, as the cannon carved a hole just wide enough for the transport to squeeze through. 

"Brace for impact!" the pilot called. 

The transport lurched forward, scraping against the jagged edges of the breach. The grinding of metal on metal was deafening. Sparks flew as pieces of the transport's hull sheared away, and then a shuddering crash echoed through the interior as the gunner's position was ripped apart. 

"Gunner's down!" Hammer barked, his voice strained but steady. "Walker team, status!" 

"Main cannon destroyed, gunner lost," came the reply from inside the AT-TE. "Tractor field generators overstressed but operational. We're still mobile." 

The transport finally broke through, tumbling into the artificial gravity of the station's interior. 

The transport's landing gear had been destroyed upon entry, sending the vessel skidding across the deck. It crashed through walls and support beams before finally grinding to a halt in a pile of rubble. 

"All teams, report!" the transport's captain shouted as he unbuckled himself. 

"Walker team intact," Hammer called, already directing his crew to deploy. 

"Clear," came a chorus of voices from the troopers packed inside the transport. 

"Minimal casualties," the captain confirmed. "Move out. Assume this is hostile territory." 

The AT-TE lumbered off the transport, its smaller turrets swiveling as troopers deployed around it. 

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Elsewhere, similar breaches were underway. 

Another transport, too large to fit through a weak point, deployed explosive charges to carve its way inside. "Fire in the hole!" one squad leader shouted, and the concussive blast shook the transport as they breached the outer wall. 

"Entry point secured!" a clone shouted as his team flooded into the dark corridors of the station, weapons raised and ready. 

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The AT-TE's commander, Lieutenant Hammer, spoke up promptly. "We've got a visual perimeter set up." 

Tide glanced through the broken viewport, watching as the massive walker's legs adjusted to the uneven floor. Its forward turrets swiveled slowly, scanning for movement. Around it, clones moved like clockwork, securing the immediate area and marking it as a fallback position. 

"Good. Keep that perimeter tight. I don't want anything slipping past us while we prepare to move deeper... and get a move on with those walkers, get them out of the transport ASAP." Tide ordered. 

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On the outer edge of the station, Corporal Rake and his squad were still tethered to the transport they had been evacuating on. Using magnetic clamps and improvised tools, they were manually securing crates of munitions and smaller vehicles like BARC speeders to the transport's undercarriage. 

"Rake, this is Control," came the voice of their squad lead, Sergeant Gale, over the comms. "How's it looking out there?" 

"We've got the last crate secured," Rake replied, double-checking the locking mechanisms. "Should hold as long as the ride stays steady. Can't say the same for us." 

"Stop whining, Rake," Private Clamp chimed in. "You're not scared of a little spacewalk, are you?" 

Rake smirked, though no one could see it under his helmet. "Not scared, Control. Just don't want to die hauling boxes while you give others all the glory." 

The banter was interrupted by a sudden jolt. The cables holding the transport creaked loudly, and the magnetic clamps groaned under the strain. 

"Hold steady!" Rake shouted, gripping a handhold tightly as the transport shifted slightly. 

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The interior of the station was a maze of dimly lit corridors and massive chambers. The artificial gravity tugged at the clones, disorienting them briefly as their boots found purchase on the metal floor. 

"Eyes up," Sergeant Grinder commanded as his squad advanced through a wide corridor. "We don't know what's in here, and I don't want to find out the hard way." 

Trooper Steel, still jittery from the evacuation, whispered, "Feels like we're walking into a trap." 

"Trap or not," Grinder replied, "we're here now. Keep your focus. Watch your corners." 

The squad paused at an intersection. Grinder held up a fist, signaling for silence. Claw, carrying the squad's Z-6 rotary cannon, moved to the front and aimed down the dimly lit corridors. 

"Clear," Claw reported, his voice steady. 

"Move," Grinder ordered, and the squad continued. 

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The largest chamber so far was the station's central hangar, a cavernous space filled with scattered debris and flickering lights. Captain Tide's team was one of several groups setting up a defensive perimeter around the breach point. 

"Get those barricades in place!" Tide shouted. "I want overlapping fields of fire on all entrances!" 

Troopers worked swiftly, unloading portable barriers and deploying sensor beacons. An engineer team was already hard at work patching up the damaged transport, while medics attended to the wounded in a makeshift triage area. 

The AT-TE, parked in the middle of the hangar, was a reassuring presence. Its remaining weapons were locked onto the main entrance, and its crew remained vigilant. 

"Captain," one of the engineers called out, "the transport's not going anywhere without a proper dry dock. We can rig some of the systems for local use, but we're grounded for now." 

"Understood," Tide replied grimly. "Do what you can. This hangar is our foothold until reinforcements arrive." 

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In one of the gunships circling the station, Commander Thorn sat silently, his rotary cannon resting across his lap. Around him, the troopers in his squad were unusually quiet, their focus on the growing structure below. 

"Commander," one of his men finally spoke, "what are we looking at down there?" 

Thorn glanced at the trooper, his expression unreadable beneath his helmet. "A problem. And we're going to solve it." 

As the LAAT swooped closer to the station, Thorn keyed his commlink. "All units, this is Commander Thorn. Stay sharp. Keep your squads tight and your weapons hot. The General's orders were clear—this is a full-scale invasion. Whatever's in there, we're taking it." 

"Understood, Commander," came the replies from the other transports. 

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The central hangar was a hive of activity. Clones moved quickly, fortifying the breach and establishing defensive lines. The AT-TE stood like a sentinel in the center, its smaller turrets scanning the cavernous chamber for any signs of movement. 

Captain Tide stood near a makeshift command post, barking orders into his commlink. "Barricades in place? Good. I want overlapping fields of fire on all entry points. Engineers, what's the status on that transport?" 

"Still working, sir," one of the engineers replied. "We've patched most of the critical systems, but she's not going anywhere without a dock." 

"Then it's staying put," Tide said firmly. "Focus on getting those repulsorlifts stabilized. We'll need it as a fallback point if things go sideways." 

Another clone ran up to him, saluting sharply. "Captain, incoming transmission from Commander Thorn. High General's transport ETA, ten minutes." 

Tide nodded. "Acknowledged. Notify all units to hold position. I don't want any surprises when the General arrives." 

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The central hangar was alive with tension. Clone engineers barked hurried instructions as they patched systems and fortified defenses, while squads patrolled the perimeter. The low hum of artificial gravity generators echoed in the background, blending with the sound of shifting armor and weapons being checked. 

Commander Thorn stood near the makeshift command post, his rotary cannon slung across his back. The comms crackled to life, the voice of a junior officer cutting through the din. 

"Commander Thorn, this is Delta Squad. We've got movement in Section 7-Alpha—confirmed droids, sir. They're coming out of the walls!" 

Thorn stiffened. "How many?" 

"Too many to count, sir. They're everywhere. We're being cut off!" 

Before Thorn could respond, another transmission came through. 

"This is Bravo Team! We're pinned in Section 12! Scanners indicate hostiles moving in from above and below us!" 

A third report followed almost immediately. "Eagle Team here! They're crawling out of the vents! We can't hold for long!" 

The situation was unraveling. Thorn turned to his comms officer, who was already swiping through a growing list of red alerts on the station's tactical display. 

"Thorn to all units," the commander's voice was sharp and steady despite the chaos, "hold your positions and fall back to fortified zones where possible. Reinforcements are en route. Do not, I repeat, do not break formation!" 

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At the main tactical console in the hangar, High General Lelouch loomed over the display. His purple eyes glinted as he studied the holographic map of the station. It was alive with movement—dozens of signals appearing out of nowhere, red markers swarming like an angry hive. 

"High General," Thorn's voice came through the console, steady but grim. "The droids are coming out of everywhere. If this continues, we'll be overrun within a few hours." 

Lelouch's gaze never wavered from the display. "Bring up the full tactical layout," he ordered. "I want to see every active section." 

The hologram flickered, expanding to show the entire station. Red clusters bloomed like infected wounds, each signaling another swarm of droids. 

"It's producing them," Lelouch murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His tone carried a dark certainty. "The station is a factory. If we linger here, we'll be crushed under sheer numbers." 

"Orders, General?" Thorn asked, his voice cutting through the momentary silence. 

Lelouch's expression hardened. "We push deeper immediately. Relay the order: all units are to converge on the main hangar and join the primary force. Once consolidated, we advance. No hesitation." 

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The hangar became a whirlwind of activity. Troopers and walkers began moving as a unified force, the clones coordinating with an efficiency born of their training. The first droids arrived like a tide, crawling from the walls and ceiling, their blasters already firing. 

"Clankers incoming!" a sergeant bellowed. 

The clones responded with precise, synchronized fire. Blaster bolts filled the air, a cacophony of red and blue lighting the dim corridors. Troopers ducked behind cover, their rifles spitting death as the droids pressed relentlessly forward. 

As the order to advance echoed across the station, squads began merging, their corridors lit by the glow of battle. From side tunnels, walkers emerged like mechanical predators. An AT-TE joined from the corridors, its mass-driver cannon long gone but hanging of the side wall as it allowed it a clearer view of the battlefield. 

"This is Walker Team Hammer!" a voice boomed over comms. "Joining main force. Watch your flanks!" 

"Copy that, Hammer!" came the reply from Tide. "Covering your approach. Push forward!" 

Blaster fire rang from every angle as the clones fought side by side, their numbers swelling with every joining squad. 

One squad, led by Captain Dusk, had been ordered to clear a side path. The corridor opened into a massive chamber, dimly lit by flickering lights. Inside, mechanical arms moved with precision, assembling something gargantuan piece by piece. 

Dusk stepped forward, his breath catching as he took in the sight. "By the regs…" he muttered. 

Before him, a Venator-class Star Destroyer was being built. Its hull was already half-finished, its massive frame looming over the clones like a sleeping giant. 

Dusk fumbled for his commlink. "This is Captain Dusk to main force. Confirming... I'm not sure how to say this, but the station is already producing ships—Venators, sir. There's one in front of us, nearly complete. I'm afraid the station might be nearly fully operational already." 

The comms officer at the main hangar hesitated before relaying the message to Thorn. "Commander, we've received a report of a Venator under construction. I'm not sure—" 

Another voice cut in, urgent and insistent. "Fordo here. My team confirms it. And it's worse." 

"Fordo?" Thorn looked questiongly. 

"Look ahead," Fordo said grimly, pointing to the dark expanse of the main hangar. 

Lights flickered, barely illuminating the cavernous space. Then, with a sudden surge of power, the hangar was flooded with blinding light, revealing the ominous form of a fully operational Venator Star Destroyer. Its turbolaser batteries started swiveling toward the clones, targeting them with deadly precision. 

"It's operational..." Fordo said as he pushed through a few clones, reaching the comms officer. "Give me every Heavy weaponry, tell them to take it down. NOW!!!" 

"Y-Yes Sir!" 

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Lelouch stepped forward, his figure commanding amidst the chaos. He strode to the front lines, the clone troopers instinctively pushing alongside and in front of him. 

The Venator's massive cannons thundered, but Lelouch raised a hand. The blaster bolts froze mid-air, shimmering like deadly stars caught in time. 

"Impossible…" Thorn whispered, staring in awe. 

With a flick of Lelouch's hand, the energy bolts reversed course, slamming back into the Venator's shields and hull with devastating force. 

The ship's engines roared to life, trying to push forward, but Lelouch clenched his fist. The Venator buckled, its frame groaning under the unseen pressure. 

"Enough," Lelouch said coldly. With a final motion, the ship crumpled in on itself, reduced to a twisted mass of debris. 

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For a moment, the clones were silent, staring in stunned disbelief. Then, one voice shouted, "For the General!" 

A chorus of cheers erupted, spreading through the ranks. The clones surged forward, their spirits renewed as they pushed deeper into the station. Walkers crawled along walls, droids were cut down by blaster fire, and the unstoppable advance of the Legion continued deeper into the heart of the station. 

 A.N: Not sure about the size of the Star Forge, some say it should be about 50-60 earths if you take the size a sun of comparable age to the one in the Lehon system, some say about the same as Death Star and some just say 10km by 25km... so it ranges. Right now I'll use the smaller one... but... hehehe, i have plans... :)