The yeet pod fell through the atmosphere, its pitch black radar-absorbent paint contrasting against the fireball created by reentry. It was perfectly targeted at the center of the active fire, and if one were to look from above, it would look like it was flying directly into the Sun.

Soon, it smashed into the fire and disappeared from sight. The eerily silent blaze showed no changes, nor was there any sound of impact. But the yeet pod didn’t care about any of that and the machine contained within immediately got to work.

The emergency workers watched as a pale, milky-white dome spread until it covered the entire area that was on fire. Then the flames began retreating, slowly at first, then faster and faster until it neared the center. The blaze, however, began fighting back at that point, wavering between invisibility and solidity as the dome starved it of mana.

About five minutes later, the blaze lost its final fight. It’d drained all of the mana captured in the dome to fuel itself, and the fuel had finally run out. The remnant wisps of flame gathered together in the shape of a human, then flared up with a bright yellow flash before the light faded and left a young man lying on the ground, naked and unconscious.

The ground around him looked like it had been transplanted directly from hell; it was charred to a reflective black sheen, the only imperfections the cracks that radiated from the crater the yeet pod had left when it impacted the surface.

“That’s a spicy creme brulee,” one of the onlookers muttered in an attempt to brighten the mood.

Within seconds, the emergency response task force vehicle drew the unconscious young man into its transport hold, where the police placed him in a stasis pod before the pilot brought the shuttle on course for The Hole.

Meanwhile, the rest of the emergency responders looked around, lost. Their SOP would normally be to look for survivors. If they couldn’t find survivors, their task would then become collecting and identifying remains. But “the book” never mentioned what to do in the case where there was just... nothing. No survivors, no remains, no buildings, and no ruins of what used to be buildings.

There was just nothing there.

......

Aron sighed, watching the entire process unfold. The sigh was a mix of disappointment and anger that he was struggling to control. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s the casualty count?” he finally asked after mentally counting to ten.

[1,764 imperial citizens and 432 remnants died. 764 imperial citizens and 231 remnants were injured and are currently receiving treatment at the emergency aid station the first responders set up,] Nova answered.

“And what do we know about the awakener that caused the incident?” he asked. The answers would determine what action he would take as the leader of the empire.

Nova threw him a data file on one Sahro Hassan and he read through it as she dictated the important highlights. The file also contained the brain data scan that had been uploaded when Sahro was put in stasis, including the reasoning behind his suicidal attack.

Aron took his time reading the data file, tapping his desk with his finger. Nova remained quiet and waited for him to finish his thought process.

The silence stretched for more than thirty minutes before Aron finally asked, “How many remnants are there, total?”

[102,321,568. That’s everyone who hasn’t accepted imperial citizenship, including the primitive tribespeople that aren’t in contact with the rest of humanity,] she said.

“How many of them are awakeners?”

[4,203,857 of them, sir. 1,385,714 of them have undergone our basic training program and the rest of them declined.]

“Schedule a meeting of the inner council,” Aron said in a grim tone. “I have ideas on how to deal with the problem, but... I’m not in the right headspace to make a final call.”

[What are your thoughts, sir?] Nova asked.

“Australia,” he replied.

[Australia, sir?]

“Yes. Australia. You know how it started, right?”

[The British Empire exiled... oh. You’re thinking of internment camps?]

“Mhm.” Aron nodded. “But if we keep them on Earth, it won’t solve the problem. And it would take a few months, maybe a year, before we could get a habitable dome ecosystem set up on, say... one of Jupiter’s moons.”

[Matrix protocol then, sir? I thought we discarded that plan as unfeasible.]

“That’s why I need to call a meeting of the inner council. Right now, if I was forced to choose, I’d either just kill them all or enact the matrix protocol.”

[And that would be counterproductive either way. People don’t take kindly to disappearing entire populations, nor are they fond of genocide. Understood, sir. I’ll schedule the council meeting for tomorrow, Earth time, and give the council members a heads up on what’ll be discussed there. That should give them enough time to come up with solid ideas.]

“And it won’t give the problem enough time to continue spreading out of control. That Hassan kid was one hell of a wakeup call, and I don’t fancy the damage control we’d have to do if we don’t act fast enough.” Aron leaned back in his chair and went back to pinching the bridge of his nose and his brows, trying to prevent an incipient headache from worsening.

Nova began massaging Aron’s headache away, then changed the subject. [Are your wedding plans coming along, sir?] she asked, despite knowing full well that everything was going just swimmingly with the wedding planning and preparations.

She continued massaging Aron’s head as they discussed much lighter topics until his headache disappeared and he put the events of the day out of his mind.

......

The response to Sahro Hassan’s terrorist attack wasn’t received nearly as well by the empire’s citizenry. Over the past few weeks, tensions between citizens and noncitizens had been rising just as fast as the remnant-on-impy crime rate, if not faster. And once the media released the information they had on the attack, both sides had found a rallying point.

If the empire didn’t respond soon, the two sides might just take things into their own hands.

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