Ayaka and Joon-ho looked over their orders, which were incredibly broad. Normally, military orders would provide detail after detail, along with multiple contingencies at every escalation step up to and including planetary destruction.Thanks to training in the simulation, they even knew what a planet looked like after being hit by one of the spinal-mounted planetkiller coilguns mounted on some of the TFS ships. And they also knew what would happen if even a TES exploration cruiser were to continuously bombard a planet with their spinal-mounted coilguns.It only took the two a few minutes before Ayaka began asking questions. “Who is going to be assigned to our task force, Admiral?” she asked.“Whoever you need, Captain. You have full authority and first priority to pick whomever you think you’ll need on your team.”“What about materiel, Sir? It simply says here that we’ll have ‘full access to any and all necessary resources.’”“Full access means full access. You even have first priori
The wildly corkscrewing lander entered the atmosphere at combat speed, echoing sonic booms and contrails of moisture in its wake, tinted black and gray by the fireball of superheated air surrounding the craft itself. Soon, though, the smoke, fire, and vapor dissipated as the pilot brought the lander to a sudden halt just a meter above the ground, then smoothly drifted down the rest of the way until the deployed landing skids took up the weight of the craft without a single jostle or bump.The indicator light in the passenger cabin switched from red back to a warm amber as the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “We’re on the ground,” the pilot announced to the diplomats. Luckily it was also transmitted directly to their implants, because none of the five members of the diplomatic mission could actually hear the announcement over the sound of their own retching.“Thank god,” Ayaka sighed, then closed her eyes and focused on what she was feeling in her toes to take her mind off her st
“We are... pleased to meet you, Commander—excuse me, Captain—Takahashi, plenipotentiary representative of the Terran Empire,” Birch said, extending her hand to shake Ayaka’s. She paid no attention to the marine guard contingent standing like statues, weapons in hand—albeit politely pointed toward the ground—and rendered anonymous by their unmarked SLEEK suits. “I am Birch, and through me you may speak to Oak, Crabapple, Mangrove, and Cypress as well.”“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Lady Birch, and the others as well,” Ayaka said, taking Birch’s hand and politely shaking it. Her other hand signaled the rest of the diplomats, then she broke the environment seal on her SLEEK suit and removed her helmet, followed by the three remaining diplomats. “These are my colleagues: George Stefanopolous, an expert in contractual and treaty law—”“Pleasure, Lady Birch,” George said with a slight bow of his head.“Dr. Leigh Ayers-MacDougall, a xenobotanist expert and the scientific adv
Ayaka took a moment to compose herself, then squared her shoulders and faced Birch. “But right now we have more pressing matters to consider. We’ll take you up on your gracious offer of a memorial in the future, but we need to know more about your children, and the children of your compatriots,” she said. “How mature, mentally and emotionally speaking, will they be when they’re... born?”“That is an excellent question, Captain. We discussed it among ourselves and decided that it wouldn’t be cost-effective, in terms of mana expenditure, to raise them to the maturity level of Joon-ho when they’re first born. But that was only a contributing factor to the eventual decision.... What was more important was that we learned from him that individuals that aren’t part of a collective, as we are, are shaped and formed by their experiences.“So if we were to artificially implant Joon-ho’s experiences into our children, they would be born with the same inspirations, hopes, and plans that he has w
Hours passed as George and Birch negotiated, seated at a table she had grown for the specific purpose.“What do you mean ‘provisional’ citizenship, Lady Birch?”“We cannot promise full and lasting entry into the empire as an auxiliary society without first meeting the very emperor we would be swearing our allegiance to, can we, Mr. Stefanopolous?”“Well, if you put it that way... no, that’s an unreasonable request.” George pondered for a moment, then continued, “Very well, I can accept that in our tentative agreement.”“How will you meet the emperor?” Ayaka asked. She agreed that the meeting would be of pivotal importance to both societies, but the logistics of facilitating such a meeting would be an absolute nightmare. Even at their ships’ fastest speed, it would require the emperor of humanity to be absent from Earth for a full year. And that didn’t take into account the length of time he would need to spend on Proxima Centauri b.“We have no idea,” Birch answered. “But until we per
TFS Proxima, the SCIF.“That’s everything we discussed, Sir,” Ayaka said, ending her report to the fleet admiral.He took a moment to consider the information; the meeting had gone in a direction he couldn’t possibly have expected. Initially, he’d expected the worst, given the early hostilities between the trees and humans, and had thought there would be some misunderstandings or ideological differences between the species. But though there were indeed misunderstandings and ideological differences, the misunderstandings had been cleared up and the ideological differences resolved through the brilliant policy of “it doesn’t matter”. Joon-ho’s experiences with them had already indicated that the trees were a tolerant, forgiving, and compassionate species, but as a lifelong military man, Fleet Admiral Bianchi had a decided pessimistic bent to his thought process. And now that he had heard Ayaka’s report, his skepticism was beginning to wane and he was feeling rather... optimistic, a sta
A month after the initial diplomatic contact, the frantic period of activity in the protostellar forge finally came to an end. Ten billion VR pods had been rolled off the production lines in the space of four short weeks; the fleet engineers had truly lived up to their motto—the impossible had been accomplished, it had just taken a short time.Birch and the other treefolk had been invaluable to the herculean task, delaying the birth of their children and ensuring their safe transfer to the pods may have been easy for them, but without their aid, the entire effort would have failed.As the pods were filled with occupants, they were activated on stasis mode, waiting for the quantum superclusters to come online to generate a VR environment conducive to raising and educating them. And during the wait, the researchers of the task force were practically driven insane by the wealth of data generated by their scans. After the initial building and transplantation efforts, it fell to the scient
Lee Joon-ho and Ayaka were walking toward the New New New South Wales Research Base, a couple tons of raw materials hovering in the air behind them, courtesy of Joon-ho’s affinity. “So what do you think the emperor will do? Will he actually come here?” Joon-ho asked.(Ed note: Added another New to New New South Wales since they’re rebuilding it. Not an error, just me being silly and wondering just how many “New”s we’ll be able to add before this arc is finished.)“I’m not sure. I mean, I’m pretty sure he won’t order us to forcefully subjugate the Proximans. I’ve never met him before, but if you look at the history of the empire’s founding and the years leading up to it, he doesn’t seem like the kind of leader to initiate wars of aggression. Even when the rest of the world formed a coalition against Eden, he only defended himself and it wasn’t until they launched pretty much the entire world’s nuclear arsenal at him that he retaliated. And after that, he even put the world leaders on t
“Seraphina,” Aron began, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of authority, “I’m not your enemy—unless you choose to make me one. I understand your anger, your frustration. You’ve lost control of a situation you believed was firmly under your command. But this predicament wasn’t my doing—you’re here because your leader chose to sacrifice you. What I’m offering you isn’t a chain—it’s an opportunity.”Her sharp eyes narrowed, the intensity of her gaze unwavering, but she held her silence. Aron leaned forward, his own gaze unrelenting as it met hers.“You can continue resisting, pushing the boundaries of the mana oath, and enduring needless pain. Or…” He paused, letting the words linger like a challenge. “You can choose to turn this situation into one that serves us both. Your strength, your insight—these are not things I wish to suppress. Quite the opposite. I want them refined, amplified, and put to meaningful use.”He motioned toward the table, where Nova was still doing fina
[Colosseum]Aron and Seraphina stood motionless, maintaining the same distance as at the start of their faceoff. Neither had moved, even during the spectacular fireworks show that followed Aron’s acceptance of her surrender. The only exception was Aron briefly waving to the citizens of his empire watching the broadcast, many of whom were overcome with emotion, crying in celebration of their historic victory. This event marked the first-ever interstellar combat they had participated in, and despite their lack of experience, they emerged as the sole victors.As cheers of triumph reverberated among his people and the disbelief of others lingered, the broadcast concluded. The moment Aron secured his final victory, the Arena itself was officially handed over to him as part of his reward, along with control of the AI referee. Without hesitation, the AI complied with her new owner’s first command: to end the broadcast. Aron had more pressing matters to attend to—a private conversation with a
[Meeting Room]Inside the Zelvora mental network, an oppressive silence hung over the gathered representatives around the meeting table. The events of the day had left them all stunned, their minds racing with the implications of what had transpired. These were not just any representatives—they were the ones who had signed off on the agreements, the architects of their civilizations’ participation in this contest.Now, they were confronted with the brutal outcome of their decisions.Many representatives sat deep in thought, their faces betraying various degrees of fear, frustration, and resignation. Those who hailed from civilizations steeped in selfish political traditions knew all too well the grim truth: scapegoats would be needed. Someone would have to bear the brunt of the blame for the humiliation, anger, and setbacks their civilizations had suffered.For many of them, the path forward seemed bleak. In the best-case scenario, they might lose their positions, exiled from the corr
To say Aron was surprised would be the understatement of the gigaannum. The announcement had obliterated every scenario he had meticulously crafted in his mind. In all his time spent in simulations, preparing for countless contingencies, not once had he considered the possibility of the Xor’Vaks surrendering—least of all without a fight.Their pride in their strength was legendary, surpassing even the vaunted arrogance of the Valthorins. For a race that reveled in their dominance, surrendering, especially on such a grand stage, was unthinkable. This sudden reversal of expectations hit him with such force that he could practically feel the metaphorical veins in his temple throbbing from the sheer shock of it all.The audience’s collective astonishment mirrored his own, but none felt it as acutely as Aron, whose carefully laid strategies now seemed almost laughably over-prepared in the face of this unanticipated twist.The largest part of Aron's shock wasn’t just the surrender itself bu
The minutes passed quickly for the viewers, their eyes glued to Aron as he sat unmoving in the same meditative position for over fifteen minutes. Speculation ran rampant on both sides, fueled by curiosity and tension.For those in the Empire, the consensus was that Aron was in VR, likely meeting with family or key figures. Many debated who he might be speaking with, guessing that he was either calming worried loved ones or strategizing for the next fight.On the other hand, viewers from the Astral Conclave harbored a mix of anxiety and intrigue. They questioned whether Aron was recuperating in preparation for the upcoming battle, enhancing his focus and mental clarity, or if his recovery from the previous fight was incomplete and he was still in the process of healing.But their speculations ceased to matter as Aron opened his eyes with five minutes remaining in the waiting period. Calm and deliberate, he removed the glasses from his head, placing them back into their container. His n
The moment the fight was officially declared over, Nova acted without hesitation. She immediately dispatched the collector ship, equipped with a medipod, to retrieve the Trinarian fighter's body. Simultaneously, she ensured Aron could rearm himself with a fresh set of nanomachines. For the first time, this process was being done openly, marking a significant shift.Previously, nanomachines had been classified technology, their existence kept strictly under wraps. However, that secrecy had been unintentionally broken when Nova used them to cover Aron’s exposed body during a critical moment, prioritizing his dignity over confidentiality. As a result, while the technology remained shrouded in mystery, its existence was now officially acknowledged, albeit without disclosing any further details.Aron retrieved a small canister from the ship and opened it, revealing a liquid-like substance inside. Pouring it onto his hand, the substance behaved unnaturally, defying gravity as it began to sp
"Him alive is better than dead, right? I can use his live brain data to study how they use their spatial abilities—it might even help accelerate my plans if things go as intended," Aron said as he stood over the fainting Trinarian fighter.{True, having him alive presents opportunities. But dead men cause no problems, while the living carry infinite potential for chaos—especially one like him. If our spatial lockdown isn’t enough to fully contain his abilities, he could use them long enough to cause catastrophic damage, even if it means enduring the backlash,} Nova replied, her tone laced with caution. She wanted to ensure Aron was fully aware of the risks he was inviting by sparing the fighter's life.Usually, Nova would have been in favor of keeping him alive—it meant more data for her to process, analyze, and extrapolate from. But spatial ability users were in a league of their own when it came to danger. Even a dead one would yield enough data to at least satisfy her curiosity for
“Nova,” Aron called out in his mind the moment his eyes snapped open, rapidly collecting information and orienting himself, realizing he had finally left the enigmatic place the system had sent him.“Nova,” he called again, this time aloud, his voice carrying a commanding weight as it echoed faintly in the arena. Receiving no response to his first call, his sharp gaze shifted to his surroundings. It didn’t take long for him to notice his current state—nearly naked, save for the swarm of nanomachines that had begun assembling around him.{The system had ejected me, sir,} Nova’s voice finally came through, calm but slightly delayed as the nanomachines completed their task. They prioritized covering his lower body, forming a sleek pair of trousers, as there weren’t enough surviving nanomachines to reconstruct full armor. His chiseled upper body remained exposed, glistening under the lights of the Colosseum, much to the awe and unease of the spectators.Nova’s pragmatic choice left Aron l
Following Nova's orders and the AI referee's approval, the mana stone carriers swiftly began moving toward the Colosseum. As the first ship arrived and entered, it wasted no time, promptly unloading its entire cargo of mana stones before departing to make way for the next carrier to do the same. The process was conducted with remarkable efficiency, ensuring a steady flow of mana stones into the Colosseum without any unnecessary delays.The process continued as over fifty ships unloaded their cargo of mana stones, an act many from the Conclave viewed as both excessive and wasteful. With each successive ship, the pain of the Conclave's viewers grew, particularly when the fifth ship alone had already matched the quantity of mana stones used during the Colosseum's initial construction. Yet, they didn’t stop there; instead, they went on to unload ten times that amount, as if mana stones were an endless resource, leaving the Conclave citizens bewildered and horrified by such apparent extra