Chapter 141: The Federation

Jason completely understood Lily’s point. This alien fleet was only a small fraction of the vast Viridian Empire and likely couldn’t represent the entire civilization. Therefore, they probably didn’t even have access to their species’ most highly classified, cutting-edge technology…

Furthermore, a true “signature technology” is often considered more valuable than an entire fleet! The Americans back on Earth were happy to sell export-model weapons, but they would never sell the core theoretical blueprints; the Russians sold high-end rocket engines, but they strictly guarded the manufacturing processes.

That geopolitical logic likely applied to the wider universe just as much as it did to Earth. Advanced technology equates to supreme productivity and military dominance. A civilization’s unique signature technology, if it even possessed one, would be its crown jewel, guarded with the utmost secrecy. They would never surrender it easily.

Demanding an empire’s lifeblood just to let a damaged fleet park for a few weeks? That was absurdly excessive…

The room full of brilliant experts grew frustrated because they simply didn’t know the true value or contents of the Viridian fleet.

While the Viridians’ standard, everyday technology would undoubtedly be a massive boon to the Federation… humanity had already cast itself as an omnipotent, “god-tier” empire. Would a god-tier empire realistically stoop to steal the basic, mundane technology of a lesser species? Obviously not. Humanity couldn’t make such a petty request without breaking character. It was a basic logic flaw that could easily lead to suspicion or a fatal misunderstanding.

Dr. Arthur Lambert and his team furrowed their brows, racking their brains but failing to find a viable alternative. If they abandoned the idea of demanding technology and instead asked for valuable resources, what exactly should they ask for?

Fullerenes? Antimatter? Exotic alien biological samples? They simply didn’t know what constituted valuable interstellar currency.

Humanity wasn’t a true interstellar civilization. They had never explored the cosmos; their frame of reference was tragically limited. Realizing this, Dr. Lambert and the others lamented that they didn’t even know how to properly blackmail an alien race…

Should they demand general data or common knowledge about the wider universe? No, a god-tier empire would already know everything there is to know.

The command center fell into a frustrated silence.

“Given the risks, should we just abandon the extortion plan entirely?” someone finally suggested.

Humanity was not short on research material; the sheer volume of advanced tech salvaged from the downed spacecraft could keep their scientists busy for decades. In this volatile situation, it might be wiser to avoid unnecessarily antagonizing the Viridians and just let them pass.

Many of the more conservative experts supported this view. “Conservative” didn’t mean outdated or cowardly; it simply meant they calculated that the risk of exposure far outweighed the potential rewards.

Survival is the absolute highest priority for any civilization. If you walk along the riverbank long enough, your shoes will eventually get wet. Sometimes, the smartest move is to play it safe.

Jason, however, was displeased. How could he be satisfied letting such a massive psychological advantage go to waste? But he was also acutely aware of the logic traps. Demanding a civilization’s exclusive dreadnought construction blueprints in exchange for letting a single, battered cruiser dock for repairs was incredibly suspicious…

“I agree, we should abandon the extortion attempt!” Evan said suddenly, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He had finally cracked the psychological puzzle.

“We have an old Earth proverb: ’Retreat to advance.’ As the psychologically dominant party, we don’t need to aggressively scramble for scraps; doing so would only make us appear petty and insecure.”

Evan stood up, pacing slightly. “…We should willingly give up this opportunity to extract a toll. On one hand, it will perfectly demonstrate the aloof tolerance and magnanimity of a true god-tier empire. On the other hand, it reinforces the illusion of absolute, unassailable strength. We retreat from petty greed to advance our grand bluff. They should be the ones sweating and anxious, not us.”

He looked around the room. “If we act dismissive and generous, we don’t actually lose anything tangible, perhaps just some basic alien tech we might have bullied out of them. But we massively mitigate our risk of exposure. The Viridians won’t look down on us for not extorting them; they will simply assume we are so unfathomably wealthy and powerful that their ’valuable’ technology is nothing but garbage to us.”

Having delivered his assessment, Evan sat back down quietly.

Jason looked at the young man, increasingly impressed by his sharp political instincts. His logic was airtight and perfectly aligned with their survival strategy.

It was similar to how global superpowers on Earth would occasionally forgive the massive debts of smaller developing nations. While framed as charity, it was often a calculated political maneuver; the smaller nations couldn’t afford to pay anyway, so forcing the issue was pointless. By publicly forgiving the debt, the superpower gained massive international goodwill, political leverage, and preferential access to the smaller nation’s natural resources.

Sacrificing a short-term, superficial gain often secured a massive long-term advantage.

This kind of nuanced political wisdom was something Jason, Austin, and the military brass occasionally lacked, but it was absolutely vital in the complex web of interstellar relations. The universe was likely teeming with diverse civilizations; if total war wasn’t the default state of existence, then diplomacy and political maneuvering were essential survival skills.

Dr. Lambert and the other scientists were brilliant, but their ideas were often purely theoretical and lacked geopolitical prudence. Evan, on the other hand, was proving to be a highly capable political strategist, someone who definitely needed to be nurtured for future leadership.

Jason’s mind raced, analyzing the angles. Within seconds, his decision was made.

Seeing no further objections, Jason stated firmly, “Then it’s settled. We play the aloof gods. Give them Sedna, and demand nothing in return.”

——

Aboard the heavily damaged Viridian flagship, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense as they awaited the humans’ judgment. Finally, the communications console chimed.

“Permission granted. Conduct your repairs and leave our territory immediately.” The radio transmission was curt and devoid of any further demands. Attached to the message was a localized star map, with a glowing arrow pointing directly to the icy dwarf planet, Sedna.

The coordinates were perfectly aligned with the Viridian fleet’s current drift trajectory.

The bridge crew was baffled. They were just… allowed to stay?

It was that simple?

Captain Fario was so stunned he asked the communicator officer to double-check the translation. “Are they simply allowing us to dock on this planet, or is there a hidden condition attached?”

“That seems to be it, Captain. The message is incredibly straightforward.”

In truth, the Viridians would have vastly preferred to park closer to the local star, or perhaps near the gas giants, where nuclear fusion fuels like hydrogen and helium were abundant. However, a rocky, icy planetoid like Sedna, with a diameter of 1,000 kilometers, was perfectly acceptable. Its mineral and ice deposits would be sufficient to patch their armor and replenish their reaction mass.

But was it really that easy? The sheer simplicity of the transaction left the Viridian leadership feeling incredibly uneasy.

They had spent the last few hours drafting desperate contingency plans: what to do if the request was denied, what to do if the strangers opened fire, what to do if the strangers demanded exorbitant, crippling tribute. None of those nightmare scenarios had materialized.

The situation… had miraculously resolved into the absolute best-case scenario.

“What a magnanimous, merciful empire!” an elder murmured, his leaves trembling with profound relief.

A few officers felt a fleeting twinge of suspicion, but they quickly suppressed it out of sheer terror.

There were only two logical explanations. First: the strangers were actually incredibly weak and lacked the military capability to enforce a toll, so they were trying to get rid of the Viridians as quickly and quietly as possible.

Second: the strangers were so unfathomably powerful that the entire Viridian Empire was utterly insignificant to them! Perhaps they were an incredibly ancient, proud civilization that viewed extorting refugees as beneath their absolute dignity.

The Viridians were well aware of the vastness of the universe. They knew it was filled with bizarre and diverse cultures, and not every apex predator was a bloodthirsty barbarian. Perhaps this local god-tier empire was simply as compassionate as they were arrogant?

Regardless of the underlying truth, the overwhelming majority of the Viridian crew leaned heavily toward the second theory. They had personally witnessed the impossible anti-gravity displacement of the massive Noah, and they had seen the terrifying, light-speed precision attack of the Ion Cannon. There was nothing left to doubt.

For them, securing a safe harbor to repair their ship was a godsend. Only a suicidal fool would dare poke the sleeping dragon just to test the waters. If anyone even suggested it, the elders would likely execute them on the spot!

The absolute priority was to repair the ship as fast as possible and flee this terrifying star system!

“I wonder what they are doing on that red planet?” a Viridian officer muttered, watching the sensor feeds. They had seen the massive space fortress casually drift into the planet’s shadow, followed shortly by a massive, inexplicable nuclear detonation on the surface. The entire sequence of events was utterly baffling, adding layers to the strangers’ terrifying aura of mystery.

“Do not pry into the affairs of gods. It was likely just a routine weapons test or a mining operation…” an elder scolded, swatting the younger officer with a branch.

“…Out of basic diplomatic courtesy, we should ask them the name of their empire as a final symbol of goodwill and submission,” Mal suddenly suggested. Perhaps it was the lingering unease of receiving such easy charity, but he felt compelled to formalize the exchange.

The Viridians were a culture deeply rooted in etiquette and protocol. Mal’s proposal was unanimously approved by the bridge crew.

A short time later, they received a final, chilling reply from the cold void:

“We are… The Federation.”

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