Getting a Technology System in Modern Day

[Sorry for the delay in chapters over the past two days, I was traveling back to my country.]

“Sir, our fleet was attacked by Terran Empire forces without provocation. What are your orders?” the Bilakis civilization’s general reported to Kumakar, his voice clipped with frustration.

“What? Attacked?” Kumakar responded, feigning shock with just the right amount of disbelief. “Weren’t those ships dispatched in response to the earlier raids? Could the Empire have mistaken them for pirate vessels?”

Had he not been the one who orchestrated this very misunderstanding, even he might have believed the innocence in his own voice. The performance was nearly flawless.

“There was no room for a mistake,” the general replied, jaw tight. “The transponders were active and broadcasting the entire time. They opened fire the moment our ships entered their zone, no warning, no communication.”

The general’s fury wasn’t just from the blatant show of disrespect; it was from something more dangerous, the realization that the Empire’s military capabilities were significantly more advanced than their latest intelligence had estimated. And that was without factoring in the black hole bombs.

“Then this wasn’t an accident, it was a message,” Kumakar said grimly. “Call for a Conclave Council meeting. We’ll be lodging a formal complaint. I want a response from the Empire now.”

“Understood.” The general ended the transmission, already moving to put the process in motion.

Once alone, Kumakar leaned back in his chair, his carefully constructed facade melting away into something darker.

“Now let’s see,” he thought, a twisted smile creeping across his lips, “whether you’ll keep playing the frightened lamb, or finally show your fangs against the Conclave.”

He didn’t say it aloud, not even in an empty room. Some instincts were too deeply ingrained to ignore.

……………..

Since the civilizations of the Conclave were already in active communication due to the agreed-upon mobilization day, the news of the Bilakis fleet being attacked by the Terran Empire spread rapidly. Within minutes, every Conclave member civilization was aware of the incident.

The first coordinated response was immediate: all fleets en route to support the attacked wormhole sectors, as well as those responding to the Empire’s previous request for increased security around wormholes, were ordered to halt their journeys until further notice. Another emergency meeting was swiftly called.

As the final seconds of the recorded footage ended, showing the Bilakis ships being destroyed without warning, a tense silence hung in the chamber.

“Looks like time has proven me right,” said the same leader who, during the previous meeting, had suggested the Empire might be behind the wave of attacks. His voice was calm, yet heavy with bitter frustration. “They’ve now created the very justification they need to move their fleets into our territories.”

Yet there was no satisfaction on his face. Even if he’d been vindicated, the price was still heavy; the loss of territory and people was far too steep to celebrate.

“We haven’t yet heard the Empire’s explanation,” the Zelvora leader interjected, trying to cool the tension. “It’s possible they acted under the impression that those ships were pirate vessels. Their own wormholes have been under relentless assault; any fleet approaching might look suspicious.”

“No. No, no, no.” Kumakar slammed his hand against the table, interrupting with shaking fury. “You don’t get to wash away the deaths of my soldiers and the destruction of my fleet by chalking it up to a ‘misunderstanding.'”

His eyes were bloodshot, his voice on the edge of cracking from restrained rage. Every Conclave representative could see it, Kumakar was a man dangerously close to stepping beyond diplomacy.

“What part of this—” he brought up a projection of the transponder data, clearly showing active allied signal signatures, “—looks like a pirate fleet to you? The transponders were active the entire time. Our ships identified themselves properly and followed protocol. That fleet was deliberately attacked.”

He swept his gaze across the room.

“Right now, the Empire has more than twenty fleets inside twenty Conclave member territories. If I hadn’t warned you about what happened to us, they might have done the same to your incoming fleets. So tell me, what exactly were they mistaking us for?”

The chamber remained silent, the weight of Kumakar’s words and his barely contained wrath settling into everyone’s mind. His message was clear: If the Empire was not held accountable now, retaliation would follow, and it might not be sanctioned by the council.

“…” The Zelvora leader hesitated, his mouth half-open as he prepared to raise a critical question: Were the Bilakis ships using the universal military transponder used across Conclave fleets, or merely their own civilization’s signature? If it was the latter, then the Terran Empire might not have recognized them, especially if they had never encountered Bilakis’ military transponders before. That nuance could change the nature of the confrontation entirely.

But he stopped himself.

The eyes of the other leaders, particularly those who had already suffered territorial losses, burned into him. Their silent message was loud and clear: Defend the Empire again without undeniable proof, and you will bear the backlash yourself.

So, instead, he redirected, “But… why?” the Zelvora leader asked, his voice quieter now. “Why would the Empire risk provoking a joint war with the Conclave, especially now, when we’re on the verge of a mutually beneficial partnership? Their economy would gain and their standing would rise, what do they gain from this?”

Kumakar didn’t even pause. His answer came cold and resolute. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice like a blade. “They’ve taken lives. They’ve spilled our blood. The why can come later, after we’ve dealt with them, after we’ve seized every document and pulled every secret from their shattered command. Until then, the only truth that matters is this: they owe us a blood debt.”

He stood, eyes sweeping across the council chamber. “I believe the evidence I’ve presented today is more than sufficient to call for the execution of Article Fifteen. I formally move for the Conclave to jointly demand reparations from the Terran Empire on my civilization’s behalf.”

A heavy silence fell over the chamber. The weight of Article Fifteen, a joint measure that, if triggered, demanded a unified compensation request from all Conclave members and implied the threat of war, was never taken lightly. Especially because it was one of the few articles the Top Ten civilizations could not veto.

The Zelvora leader sighed. Then spoke, for what he made clear would be the final time before the vote. “As always, I advise caution. We must act only with certainty, not anger. The Empire is, at least for now, an ally. Allies deserve the opportunity to explain themselves, especially when war looms as the alternative.”

He looked directly at Kumakar. “Should they offer a valid explanation, they may still compensate you directly, and you would retain your honor and your claim without dragging all of us into a war that, if later proven unjustified, could fracture the Conclave from within. Article Fifteen cannot be easily revoked.”

He stepped back, expression unreadable. “But the time for words is almost over. If you insist, let it go to a vote.”

And with that, the fate of the Terran Empire, and possibly the future of the Conclave, hung in the silence before the decision.

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