A New Life

Darkness. An endless void. That was all Jason could see as his consciousness drifted aimlessly. The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain in his chest as the assassin's bullet pierced his heart. Now there was nothing. No light, no sense of his body, just an infinite emptiness.

After what seemed like an eternity, a faint glow appeared, growing brighter. With it came a vague awareness of being in a body once more. Sounds and smells began to register through a hazy filter. The world was blurry and indistinct when Jason opened his eyes.

"Get up, you useless Terran!" a shrill voice screeched.

Jason's eyes snapped into focus as memory flooded back. He was no longer Jason Wake of Earth. He was Darius Kross, former overlord of the Andromeda Galaxy. The voice belonged to his majordomo, Mizrak, a foul-tempered Crettan.

With effort, Jason pulled himself upright on the stone bench that served as his bed. Iron manacles weighed down his wrists and ankles, allowing limited movement. The cell was small and barren, with only a toilet and door-less entrance.

"Lord Kross, you must prepare yourself. The trial begins in one hour," Mizrak continued. "Wear the dress uniform I've brought you. It may help garner some sympathy."

Jason nodded weakly as he accepted the bundle of clothes. He had no idea what trial the Crettan referred to, but his priority was learning more about his new situation.

As an overlord, Darius Kross once commanded a vast empire spanning thousands of star systems. But he had been too ambitious, making enemies of former allies and rebellion brewed. From what Jason could piece together, the end came during a major battle when sizeable portions of Kross's main fleet defected. Without his formidable armada, the overlord stood no chance against the combined enemy forces. Instead of choosing an honorable death in battle, his lieutenants betrayed him to the enemies in return for power.

And now here Jason was, in a weakened body and apparently slated for some public trial. Donning the uniform, Jason considered his options. He had no allies and few resources, only the formidable intellect that had propelled his rise on Earth. But desperation would make him dangerous. There was no telling what he was capable of to survive.

The manacles fell away, and Jason stepped from the cell, flanked by robot guards. He was aboard a massive space station, but there were no signs of his once mighty Imperial Navy. The corridors and halls stood empty aside from innumerable alien spectators gathered to witness his humiliation.

Internally, Jason strained to remember everything he could about this galaxy. The names Darius Kross and the Imperial Dynasty were spoken of in fear for decades. Five years ago, Darius controlled over a thousand populated worlds spanning several sectors. But he had fallen victim to classic hubris, spreading his forces too thin and isolating himself with paranoia as treason took root in his organization.

But hope was not lost. Even in defeat, Jason possessed one advantage—his system.

During his initial rise to power, Darius acquired a prototype AI and control chip developed by captured Kalari scientists. It integrated directly with his mind, interfacing his thoughts with data networks and ship systems. The SENTINEL System granted data retrieval abilities and analytical functions far beyond ordinary mental capacity.

Jason focused his thoughts, establishing the internal connection to SENTINEL. Immediately, reams of data on the station's layout, nearby vessel positions, bio-readings of the crowd streamed into his mind. Collating and extrapolating, Jason began formulating plans. There was a way out of this yet.

The trial was a farce designed to publicly disgrace him before execution. But staged trials could turn into opportunities. Jason would challenge their authority and speak truth to power. He would tap into his opponents' fears, reminding them of his legacy. Even without a fleet, the name of Darius Kross still gave pause to his enemies. Jason only needed to spark doubt in their victory to plant seeds for the future.

As they entered the massive hall and thousands of spectators jeered him, Jason felt only calm purpose. He stood tall and proud, allowing no sign of weakness. This was the first battlefield in the war to reclaim his empire. And Darius Kross did not lose wars.

The human ambassador from the Allied Coalition stepped forward to list the charges against him. Jason listened with amusement. Twenty counts of genocide, forty-three counts of illegal invasion, fifteen counts of war crimes, seven counts of... the list went on. As if such labels had any meaning in this universe. The hypocrisy was laughable.

When the ambassador finished, Jason stepped forward to address the assembly. His voice boomed with authority and charisma, amplified by the hall's acoustics.

"I stand here, shackled and disgraced, stripped of my rightful authority. But make no mistake, I am still Darius Kross, Overlord of the Imperial Dynasty and destined ruler of the galaxy! You have not defeated me, only deceived me through weakness and betrayal."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd at his bold words. Jason continued.

"You fear me, even now, broken and in chains. That fear is good. Hold onto it. For when I regain my rightful place, your treason will be repaid one thousand times."

He paused, sweeping his gaze across the vast room. "You know my capabilities. You've seen my merciless will firsthand. Cross me, and I promise only oblivion. If you beg for surrender in the end, I will grant you no mercy, just as you have shown me none today."

The faces watching now were uncertain, even those of his enemies. Jason could see the seeds of fear and doubt taking root. Though it galled him to lower himself in supplication, he had one final card to play.

Turning to the ambassadors, he sank to one knee. "Spare me now without dishonor, allow me exile, and in time I pledge my strength to your coalition against threats from beyond this galaxy. But execute me, and you unleash the fury of my hidden loyalists."

Before the stunned ambassadors could respond, Jason stood and turned his back. Guards seized him and marched him away amid the uncertain murmurs of the crowd. Jason smirked. Let them stew over his words. With the right threats and promises, even enemies could later serve one's agenda.

Back in the cell, Jason sat calmly, projecting unshakable confidence through the surveillance cameras. The empire's remnants were still out there. In time, he would gather them. And when the coalition wavered, he would strike, seizing power once more. They had only postponed his ascendancy this day.

But Jason's smirk faded as a door opened and four armed guards entered his cell. Their leader gave him a scornful look. "Your little performance failed. The ambassadors fear you too much to let you live. You die today, Kross."

Rough hands seized Jason, dragging him from the cell. But as they exited the cell block, the corridor lights flickered and went out. Confused shouts echoed through the darkness. Jason felt himself knocked to the floor amid sounds of a scuffle. When the emergency lights clicked on, the four guards lay dead, necks cleanly broken.

A tall figure in a cloak stood over Jason and spoke, "Come with me if you want to live."