In the command center of the Imperator Somnium, Kenthelion sat motionless on his throne. His gaze pierced through the panoramic observation window, into the starlit void beyond—but his thoughts had drifted far inward, to the depths of memory and calculation.
This universe… Starship Troopers.
He remembered its events vividly—a colossal asteroid, the Fort Casey military outpost, and human colonies overrun by swarms of Arachnids under the control of their hive-minded queen. This wasn't just a war; it was a layered conflict wrapped in political games and bureaucratic ambition within the United Citizen Federation itself.
He recalled the fast-assault ship Alesia, dispatched to rescue survivors. But when it arrived at Fort Casey, it found only chaos and ruin—a battlefield that left little room for precision or hope. Order rarely survived here. Perfect plans died with the first scream.
And then there was Carl Jenkins—a high-ranking Federation official with telepathic abilities. Psionics, Kenthelion mused. Crude. Elementary compared to the Psykers or Librarians of Warhammer. No warp channeling. No reality distortion. Just baseline telepathy and simple intuition.
He remembered vividly how Jenkins commandeered the heavy cruiser John A. Warden—a vessel under the command of Captain Carmen Ibanez—to carry out a secret mission involving the transport of an Arachnid Queen. A gamble with unknown stakes. Carmen and the surviving infantry were abandoned on that cursed asteroid, left to die under the weight of betrayal and bug mandibles.
But as Fort Casey stood on the brink of destruction, Alesia returned, saving Carmen along with survivors from Alpha Team and the battle-scarred K-12 Squad—mobile infantry who held the line when all others fell. One figure, in particular, stood out in Kenthelion's mind: the former captain of K-12. A soldier who dared to openly defy Carl Jenkins' orders. An anomaly in a regime built on obedience.
The search for the lost John A. Warden became a focal point. Carmen, scarred but unbroken, pursued it relentlessly—with the kind of fury only those who've lost everything can understand.
Kenthelion exhaled quietly. His mind was both critical and impressed.
> "They've reached the interstellar era… yet they're still using gunpowder-based projectiles to shoot bugs," he thought. "Other universes deploy plasma rifles, beam cannons, orbital railguns. But here? Metal bullets and ground strategy. The heart of their doctrine is infantry."
In Kenthelion's view, the Federation's military doctrine was too dependent on drop-and-evac tactics: drop infantry from orbit, hit the ground hard, then pull out before the bugs retaliate en masse. There were no grand-scale void battles like in Warhammer 40K, Star Wars, or Halo. No massive space fleet engagements. Everything was strictly utilitarian.
But he understood. He'd read the meta-analyses, the interdimensional forum debates about Robert A. Heinlein's legacy.
> "Heinlein wasn't building a spacefaring world," he recalled reading. "He was constructing an ideological one. The starships were a backdrop. The real focus was on militarism, citizenship, and sacrifice. Not technology—philosophy."
Kenthelion respected that.
But as Emperor of the Imperium Caelestis, he could not—would not—accept those limitations.
Kenthelion remained seated on his throne, immersed in a stream of memories and tactical evaluation. His mind drifted back to the events of Starship Troopers: Traitor of Mars (2017). In his estimation, the timeline of that film ran parallel—if not directly adjacent—to the Fort Casey incident, at least from the perspective of real-world chronology.
> "November 7th, 2314," Kenthelion mused silently. "That was the day the asteroid carrying Arachnid eggs crashed into Mars. The beginning of their underground colonization phase."
Yet instead of publicly confronting the threat, the Federation—under the leadership of Sky Marshal Amy Snapp—chose to suppress the truth. The motive was transparent: to avoid political unrest and undermine the rising Martian independence movement.
By around 2317, scattered reports of attacks began to surface. Arachnids were infiltrating subterranean facilities, creeping into human colonies. The Federation responded swiftly—deploying the 1st Mobile Infantry Division into critical sectors. They launched aggressive sweeps of bug hives, evacuated civilians, and defended key infrastructure. But with industrial mobilization still lagging behind, the troops were forced to hold their ground against relentless waves of Arachnids—including newly emerged variants like the Rhino Bug—without full logistical support.
The Federation's central command issued a strict directive: no nuclear weapons were to be used. Not for humanitarian concerns—but to protect the industrial value of Martian real estate.
Ultimately, the Federation claimed victory in what came to be known as the First Battle of Mars.
> "But that victory was skin-deep," Kenthelion thought sharply. "It was nothing more than a stepping stone for Snapp's ambition."
The Federation had deliberately allowed the Arachnids to fester within the quarantine zones. They were waiting—for the perfect moment. And when the second, full-scale assault finally came, Sky Marshal Snapp's conspiracy was laid bare. The Q-Bomb. A plot for mass genocide. All orchestrated for political capital.
In the end, it was Johnny Rico and the so-called "Lost Patrol" who turned the tide. They disabled the Q-Bomb and thwarted the extermination plan. The ordeal proved that Starship Troopers wasn't merely a saga of humans versus bugs—it was a war of truth, power, and military ethics.
Kenthelion's thoughts turned toward more practical matters.
> "Their armor," he noted to himself, "hardly qualifies as protection. A single bug can tear through it. What good is it in real combat?"
To Kenthelion, their gear was better suited for colonial patrol units—perhaps integrated into the Planetary Defense Force as light-armed civil guards. Naturally, their miniature missile launchers would require strict regulation—such firepower couldn't be entrusted to unvetted civilians.
Then his gaze turned to the Federation's starships.
> "Poor design. Minimal defenses. No shielding. But…" Kenthelion allowed himself a slight smirk. "…they have potential. These vessels could be repurposed for trade, transport, even troop deployment to the outer reaches. With Mechanicus intervention, they could become vital tools in the arsenal of the Imperium Caelestis."
Captain Carmen Ibanez drifted back into Kenthelion's thoughts. In his mind's eye, her face was far more captivating than any rendition shown in the film adaptations. A capable woman—charismatic, poised—even amid the chaos of interstellar warfare. In Kenthelion's view, she wasn't merely a soldier; she was someone worthy of being part of his inner circle. A commanding figure fit to lead a fleet... or perhaps, something far more personal.
> "And that female sniper… what a waste," he thought grimly. "She had the aura of a seductive matriarch. I will save them. No—more than that… I will claim them."
---
His musings were abruptly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. One of his senior officers entered the command chamber and bowed respectfully.
Warship Officer:
"Your Majesty, the warship you requested has been captured and fully secured. The crew has surrendered without further resistance. Those who defied us have been handed over to the Adepta Mechanicus for conversion into servitor labor."
Kenthelion offered a thin smile, his eyes glinting like freshly stoked embers.
Kenthelion:
"Well done. Now, forge a false identity for me. I'll be assuming command of that ship. Assemble a new crew—mix Stormtroopers, Terran Marines, StarCraft operatives, and a few Ultramarines. I want to experience their battlefield with my own eyes."
Warship Officer:
"Understood, Your Majesty. Preparations will begin immediately aboard the Imperator Somnium."
Kenthelion:
"Send word to Wilsuff Tarkin on Terra Aeterna. He is to rendezvous here. We will force them into submission—with the Death Star if we must."
Then Kenthelion leaned in, whispering something directly into the officer's ear.
Kenthelion (whispering):
"Don't let the Mechanicus know there are bugs on Mars. It's their sacred ground. If they find out, they'll start howling at me for immediate Exterminatus."
The officer visibly paled, a cold sweat forming on his brow. The mere thought of what the Adepta Mechanicus would do if they learned of an Arachnid infestation on Mars chilled him to the bone. He could already picture the tech-priests losing their collective minds, chanting and shrieking in binary blasphemy at the Emperor himself.
Kenthelion:
"By the way, what's the name of the warship you captured?"
Warship Officer:
"Your Majesty, according to its captain, the vessel is called… Alesia."
Well now. The captain of the Alesia was quite the looker. Not a bad start, Kenthelion mused inwardly, his lips curling into a subtle grin.
As he waited for the Mechanicus to complete the retrofitting process, a voice suddenly echoed from his wrist communicator. The holographic interface flickered to life, revealing the playful visage of the Red Queen.
Red Queen:
"Hey, big brother… You're so mean. Running off on an adventure without me?"
Kenthelion:
"How did you even show up here? I specifically switched my watch so you couldn't track me."
Red Queen:
"Hmph, silly big brother. Of course, it was Sister Selene who brought me—through her watch. I knew you were up to no good again. Kidnapping sweet girls like always, hmm?"
Kenthelion:
"...Wait. You mean Selene's here? On the warship?"
Red Queen:
"Yup, she's onboard. Said she needed some fresh air. She got bored watching those three scientists argue over her blood—Dr. Ariel Hanson, Egon Stetmann, and Dr. Halsey."
She gave a mischievous wink.
"When Imperator Somnium launched, Selene was wandering the corridors. So... yeah, she came along."
Kenthelion went silent. With a flick of his wrist, he accessed the ship's internal systems. His eyes narrowed as the data flashed before him—over two hundred containment pods filled with Nemesis-type zombies, along with a handful of Lickers.
Red Queen was lying. She was playing her twisted little games again.
Kenthelion:
"Red Queen, weren't all the zombies destroyed? Why are these things still here? Don't tell me you've started lying to me now."
Red Queen:
"Relax, brother. I will destroy them... eventually. I just got bored in the lab. The Mechanicus were too busy obsessing over their rusty relics, so I decided to run a little experiment using a virus from my universe."
She pointed to one of the pods.
"But look at this. They didn't mutate into gross freaks. I used alien DNA this time. And I modified them—gave them triple adamantium claws. Like that comic book guy. Seriously, they're just like Wolverine!"
With the enthusiasm of a child showing off a science project, she added:
"And that's not all. I even gave them yellow suits—like the ones from those online comics. Their speed's been cranked up too. I shot one with a bolter and it fully regenerated in under ten seconds!"
Kenthelion let out a long sigh. His jaw tightened. A vein twitched faintly on his forehead. Since when did his AI turn into a pop culture junkie? And worse... since when did she become a genetic engineer?
In the Imperium Caelestis, AI were still permitted, but heavily monitored. Citizens from the Warhammer and StarCraft sectors loathed them, and even those from the Halo universe remained cautious—despite their more advanced tech. Red Queen and White Queen were just two among many AIs in Kenthelion's personal collection. They were tolerated. Never trusted.
Kenthelion:
"So you actually tested your creations?"
Red Queen:
"Relax, brother. These Wolverine zombies are sterile. Non-contagious. Fully under my remote-control system. They're absolutely loyal—zero chance of betrayal. Oh, and here—Dr. Halsey gave full authorization."
A holographic video appeared, showing Dr. Halsey speaking formally in front of a camera. Documents followed—stamped and verified.
Red Queen:
"Plus, I've been upgraded by Dr. Halsey herself. I'm kinda like Cortana now!"
Kenthelion gave a slow nod. Halsey's approval carried weight. Enough to ease his mind—though never completely. He knew far too well how thin the line was between cognitive upload tech and full-blown AI rebellion. The grim history of Warhammer was warning enough.
After this, I'm restricting AI from frontline military systems, he decided.
Kenthelion stepped toward the warship Alesia, now clad in a Starship Troopers-style military uniform. He had authorized the deployment of Red Queen's Wolverine zombie units.