Chapter 138: The End of a Civilization

When the Noah rotated to face the sun, the sheer bulk of Mars physically blocked the two spaceships from seeing each other. Taking advantage of this perfect celestial alignment, the launch plan was immediately executed.

The specially designed satellite looked exactly like a large rock. It was disguised as a common falling meteorite to minimize the risk of being detected by the Viridians. However, hidden inside its rocky shell was a powerful transmitter set to broadcast a localized signal in a fixed direction.

Because the chemical exhaust from a standard launch vehicle would be far too obvious to the Viridian Empire’s sensors, humanity had to use a specially designed electromagnetic cannon to fire the satellite into orbit like a giant artillery shell.

The Noah hovered at an altitude of 3,000 kilometers above the Martian surface, allowing for a direct high-altitude launch. The trajectory calculations were incredibly complex, requiring absolute precision in both thrust and launch angle.

However, for the Noah’s many computing experts, this was a manageable challenge.

This crude satellite had a very short operational lifespan, but its mission was absolutely vital: to broadcast a single command to an automated suicide rover.

“Launch countdown initiated.”

“10, 9, 8… 4, 3, 2, 1. Satellite launched!”

Jason stood on the observation deck, his eyes narrowed in nervous anticipation. Suddenly, a dull, reverberating thud echoed through the deck as the satellite was forcefully ejected from the cannon.

Its initial velocity was staggering, reaching 2 kilometers per second, and it carried a tiny internal propulsion system for course correction. According to the calculated trajectory, it would crash into the surface about a thousand kilometers away from the crashed UFO, broadcasting its activation code just before impact.

About an hour later, an automated rover stationed near the Martian North Pole suddenly hummed to life. Its heavily armored cargo bay held a massive nuclear warhead. To prevent the alien entity from hijacking its systems, all the complex intelligent computers inside the rover’s cab suddenly self-destructed via small explosive charges, leaving only a basic, dumb mechanical drive.

Its engines roared to life. Its steering was physically locked into place and could not be altered. With blind mechanical purpose, it charged headlong toward the UFO crash site!

The tactical team knew that the electromagnetic waves emitted by the biological entity could easily compromise advanced AI and intelligent machines, but they absolutely could not hack a simple, closed-loop mechanical circuit. This rover now contained no smart tech, only a simple physical odometer. Once its wheels had traveled exactly one hundred kilometers, the onboard Helium-3 nuclear warhead, packing a yield of one billion tons would instantly detonate.

An hour later, the scientific instruments aboard the Noah detected a cataclysmic, one-billion-ton nuclear explosion in the distant Arctic region! The sheer force of the blast was so immense that a massive storm of reddish-brown dust was thrown into the upper atmosphere, completely enveloping the Martian North Pole.

Because of the extreme distance, they couldn’t see the explosion with the naked eye, but the telemetry confirmed the billion-ton yield. Everyone on the bridge knew the Martian UFO had been completely vaporized. Cheers erupted, and the crew exchanged relieved high-fives.

Jason, however, stood quietly, his brows deeply furrowed in thought.

It felt strange… almost too simple. There was no intense back-and-forth struggle, no desperate psychic counterattack from the biological entity, and no secondary explosions. Was the terrifying UFO really just destroyed by humanity that easily? In their planning meetings, they had agonized over the possibility that the entity might discover the rover early, mapping out countless worst-case scenarios and countermeasures.

Yet, absolutely nothing had gone wrong. The sensors accurately confirmed the blast coordinates and the explosive yield. It was a direct hit on the UFO.

It just… died?

Jason suddenly felt a surreal sense of detachment. Had they really succeeded just like that?

It felt unbelievable, yet completely logical. Could the entity possibly have turned the tide? Of course not. It was a trapped, starving survivor at the end of its rope. Right up until the final microsecond, it likely had no idea a nuclear bomb was driving straight toward it.

Even a standard Gauss Rifle could damage its fleshy exterior; there was no way it could survive a billion-ton nuclear fireball.

Perhaps it had been the very last member of its grand civilization, and just like that… it was wiped out by a primitive, weak species.

That entire civilization had finally met its end.

Its past glory, its advanced technology, its terrifying power all of it was now history, reduced to a handful of radioactive dust. Gone, in an instant. In the vast, uncaring expanse of the universe, the death of an entire civilization didn’t even cause a ripple.

Jason felt a sudden, heavy pang of emotion. Humanity had just exterminated an intelligent alien race with its own hands. It gave him a chilling sense of unease. This wasn’t out of sympathy or misplaced compassion; it was the existential dread of a fellow intelligent being looking into the abyss.

This was the reality of the cold, dark universe. Perhaps in the grand cosmic scheme, all intelligent life whether gods or insects were entirely insignificant.

The universe is so unimaginably vast, and no one knows what horrors lurk in the dark. Every civilization must tread with absolute, terrifying caution. Even those who have reached the apex of the interstellar age face the constant, looming threat of extinction.

Strength and weakness are temporary states; the tide can turn in a fraction of a second. Humanity had to be careful. They had to be paranoid.

Jason let out a long sigh. Now that the UFO threat was vaporized and the fatal flaw in their grand deception was plugged, they could finally focus their full attention on the Viridian Empire.

Time continued to pass.

The atmosphere aboard the Noah was a strange mix of domestic calm and military tension. For the ordinary civilians, day-to-day life hadn’t changed much. After the government released a series of educational broadcasts explaining the brutal realities of the universe, the public understood the extreme dangers posed by extraterrestrial life and largely supported the military’s drastic actions.

After the initial panic had died down, people simply adapted to the new normal. Of course, the general public only knew the broad strokes of the “grand bluff” operation; they were kept entirely in the dark regarding the terrifying specifics and the knife-edge standoff between the two fleets.

People would gather in the mess halls and recreation sectors to discuss the situation. Given the circumstances, no one could think of a better strategy than the grand bluff. The only alternatives were running away and hiding forever… or surrendering and begging the aliens for mercy.

Anyone with a shred of dignity knew surrender wasn’t an option. Who knew if these aliens were benevolent or malevolent? They might view humans as nothing more than livestock or biological fuel. Entrusting the fate of your entire species to the mercy of unknown invaders was suicide. The Federation was currently far too weak, insects compared to a true interstellar empire.

In the dark forest of the universe, one must always assume the worst of others. Therefore… disguising themselves as an impossibly powerful apex predator was the only logical choice!

The consensus was that this was the best possible survival strategy, and the public’s trust in Jason’s leadership deepened into absolute loyalty.

Panic and rumors were virtually nonexistent, largely because Jason himself remained right there on the ship with them, sharing their fate. As long as this calm, decisive leader was at the helm, the fifty thousand survivors aboard the Noah felt a strange, comforting sense of security.

However, what they didn’t know was that their leader was slowly being crushed by the pressure.

Jason had spent the last several days practically living in the astronomical observatory, working at least twenty hours a day. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale from severe sleep deprivation. He was constantly second-guessing himself, wondering if his gambles were brilliant or suicidal.

No one knew if detonating the UFO would expose a flaw in their bluff. Logically speaking, nuclear weapons were standard tools for clearing debris or mining, so a highly advanced civilization using one shouldn’t look suspicious.

The Viridians would never know the real reason humanity detonated the nuke. But then again, who could possibly guess how an alien mind would interpret the data? In just a few days, the Viridian sensors would undoubtedly detect the aftermath of the explosion.

The last fifty thousand human souls in existence were living on this Ark, and Jason was terrified of leading them into the fire. He desperately wanted them to live, to guide them to a safe harbor.

But in this cold universe, mere intelligence and strategy were no longer enough to guarantee survival. You also needed luck. And Jason absolutely despised relying on luck, it meant he was no longer in control.

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