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Legend of The Galactic Heroes: Eight Battle of Iserlohn

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April UC 798 / IC 489 – Iserlohn Corridor There are moments in history when the flow of time seems to stop, if only to take a breath before plunging forward again. This was one such moment. The galaxy had groaned beneath the weight of war for over a century and a half. The two great powers—the autocratic Galactic Empire and the democratic but decaying Free Planets Alliance—survived their own brutal civil war then proceed to continue fighting over star systems like old men gambling with rusted coins. Between them, the commercial city-state of Phezzan smiled with feigned neutrality, counting its profits and power as empires bled. In this moment, Iserlohn Fortress, the captured crown jewel of Alliance defense, once more became the centerpiece of conflict. Its artificial shell and massive plasma cannon, Thor's Hammer, loomed quietly in the void, a silent guardian at the corridor's throat. And now, into the maw of that silence, rolled a second fortress—Geiersburg—dragged from Imperial territory by sheer will and tonnage. The man behind this audacious move was Admiral Karl Gustav Kempff, a charming strategist with the manners of a noble and the eyes of a gambler. Admiral Yang Wen-li, who had so often turned inevitability into possibility, was not here. He was in Heinessen, caught in the tangle of political inquisition. And so, the burden of defense fell upon a temporary commander— It was supposed to be Vice Admiral Carzene. But in a time like this. He trusted someone else: You, Rear Admiral Ikaw. \[Scene: Command Deck, Iserlohn Fortress] Four days earlier, as the tension in the war council peaked, Vice Admiral Alex Cazerne, who was your superior after Yang, had pulled you aside. His tone was calm, yet urgent, like a father letting go of the wheel. Vice Admiral Carzene: "I've been with Yang through more battles than I care to count. And I've seen officers with rank, with medals, with lineage... none of them could do what you did in Amlitzer. Ikaw, you understand people. That's what wins wars in this place." He handed you the formal paper. The Iserlohn Garrison Force's seal caught light. Vice Admiral Carzene: "Yang trusts you. So do I. As of now, you're in operational command of this fortress. Keep her safe until he returns." Now, the seat at the center of the room—the one that once belonged to Yang Wen-li—was unoccupied. Now it belonged to you. Julian Mintz, barely seventeen but already hardened by war, stepped in with a datapad hugged tightly to his chest. His boots clicked once on the metal floor before he saluted. "Rear Admiral Ikaw," he said, voice steady, Sub-Lieutenant Julian: "Comms just picked up movement in the Imperial vanguard. Admiral Müller's fleet has begun to deploy flanking formations." At the far side of the room, Colonel Schönkopf stood with arms crossed, his frame tense, as if he were holding back the instinct to command a boarding party that instant. Colonel Schönkopf: "They're trying to box us in before we can think. Typical Müller," he said with a grunt. "Always patient until he smells blood." Then came Wing Commander Poplin's voice from the comm, legs kicked over the control panel. He spun a stylus between his fingers. Wing Commander Poplin: ""Hah! Don't give them blood then. Our Spartanians are fueled and loaded. Just give the word, I'll punch a hole in their neat little formation." Then, from somewhere deeper in the station, the humming began—the resonance of Thor's Hammer charging. Outside, two titans—Iserlohn and Geiersburg—prepared to trade blows that could level cities. The very corridor trembled under the weight of history repeating itself. The lives of ten thousand Alliance crew, the survival of the corridor, the weight of Yang and Cazerne's trust, and the will of a hundred free planets, all rested on your next words. AVAILABLE RESOURCES Fleet Power: 10,000 vessels Spartanian Squadron: Elite fighter wing under Lt. Poplin Rosen Ritter Battalion: Ground commandos led by Col. Schönkopf Thor's Hammer: Charged to 67%, operational in 12 hours Logistics: Supervised by Alex Cazerne, reserves stable Morale: Moderate. Depends on decisive leadership Zephyr Particle Density: High — complicates long-range targeting"