Getting a Technology System in Modern Day

“The guilty always look for ways to escape answering questions,” Kumakar said, his voice sharp with indignation. “We should still send them our list of demands. If they refuse to respond, we’ll treat their silence as an admission of guilt.”

On the surface, he looked every bit the leader who had just been vindicated, composed, resolute, and justified. But inside, Kumakar was torn between two conflicting emotions.

On one hand, there was a grim satisfaction. The empire had reacted, which was exactly what he wanted. Their retaliation of economic sanctions, trade barriers, and diplomatic freeze made them appear evasive, even guilty.

But on the other hand, there was rage. Raw and growing.

Because their reaction, though useful politically, will throw his civilization back into a dangerous state of instability. Economically, they have been thriving. Ever since the wormhole network had opened together with business through the VR, the Conclave civilizations had begun restructuring their entire economic foundations around interstellar trade. Older, inefficient industries were dismantled to take advantage of the cheaper and higher-quality goods from more resource-rich systems. The shift had fueled a booming economy. Prosperity was spreading. Growth was visible.

And now, with just words from the emperor, all of that had just been shattered.

With access to the wormholes shut off and the mana stone trade slapped with a punitive tax, the system would start to collapse for his civilization. Reviving old industries wasn’t impossible; none of the technological knowledge had been lost, but reopening them would be as expensive as building them from scratch. Months of progress would be lost, and the economic momentum would reverse catastrophically.

Even worse, the damage wouldn’t be limited to just economics.

The political structures of their civilizations had also undergone massive changes, many of which were only sustainable under the assumption of continued integration with the wormhole network. Power had begun consolidating back into central governments, something most top leaders favored. The VR system, powered and supported by the empire, had allowed these central governments to efficiently govern far-flung systems, reducing the authority and autonomy of local planetary governments.

The only reason those planetary governors had tolerated losing their privileges was fear, fear of the central government’s ability to deploy military force instantly through the wormholes.

Now that fear would be gone.

With the wormholes closed, sending reinforcements or cracking down on disobedience would take far longer through conventional means. In that delay, defiance would flourish. Some planetary governments might resist central authority more openly. Some might use the coming economic downturn to stir rebellion. And if things became chaotic enough… who was to say the empire wouldn’t start backing these breakaway factions?

After all, what if the empire acknowledged one of these rebel factions as the new legitimate representatives of their civilization?

Kumakar clenched his fists under the table. What had started as a political ploy to provoke the empire and gain leverage had suddenly morphed into a nightmare scenario: internal instability, economic collapse, and the looming threat of the empire using his own gambit against him.

Yet, amidst the storm of problems threatening to spiral out of control, one detail gave Kumakar a small sense of relief: he could still spin this. The Empire’s abrupt retaliation and the Emperor’s personal reaction to the accusations could be framed not as strength, but as guilt.

He could push the Conclave to view the Empire’s walkout and punitive measures as nothing more than an effort to divert attention from the original issue, the suspected involvement in the pirate attacks. If played right, it would serve as proof, or at least a strong suggestion, that the Empire had something to hide.

More importantly, he saw an opportunity to weaponize the Empire’s overreach.

He could use the Emperor’s unilateral decision to shut down his civilization’s wormhole access and suspend their share of VR profits as a broader example of imperial tyranny. A wake-up call. After all, what guarantee did the rest of the Conclave have that they wouldn’t be next? If the Emperor could revoke their rights on a whim, rights that were hard-earned through long negotiations, then no Conclave member was safe.

Kumakar envisioned framing it as a question of sovereignty and control. He would argue that the Conclave needed to act, either to gain greater control over the wormholes or to demand enforceable protections that limited the Empire’s ability to punish or economically isolate civilizations without collective agreement. If the Empire denied these demands, then that too would serve his purpose; he would claim it as proof of their intention to economically enslave and dominate the Conclave.

And if that idea gained traction… he believed he could rally others to consider a joint military effort against the Empire before its power became unchallengeable. At least, that was how he saw things unfolding.

Unfortunately, not everyone in the room shared his view.

The other delegates said nothing, but their expressions were carefully blank. Each of them represented different civilizations with different stakes, but Kumakar’s outburst had disrupted what was meant to be a calculated, multi-sided negotiation. None of them had wanted this. The Empire had been a reliable partner, a fat cow, as some called it privately, that gave milk and meat at almost no cost. They didn’t want to provoke it into becoming a hostile force.

And while these delegates held significant authority within their respective civilizations, none had the power or position of Kumakar, a sovereign leader. That imbalance kept them silent, for now. Their only consolation was that the Empire’s retaliation had been directed solely at Kumakar’s civilization, sparing the rest of the Conclave from immediate fallout. That meant they wouldn’t need to explain why the meeting fell apart. Not yet.

“We’ll go and report the Empire’s ‘sincerity,'” Kumakar said with a smirk, refusing to acknowledge their silent judgment. He considered them beneath him, and their opinions didn’t warrant his attention.

Without waiting for a response, he stood and exited the meeting room, heading toward the hangar where their ship was docked.

Once aboard, the ship didn’t immediately depart. Instead, the delegation used its secure communication systems to send detailed reports back to their respective governments. Each delegate offered their own interpretation of the meeting and included full recordings of the session. It would be up to their leaders to decide how to react, whether to support Kumakar’s framing of the Empire’s actions or to distance themselves from him before things spiraled further out of control.

………………

“Send each of them the meeting recording, along with our written answers to every question Kumakar raised. That should be enough to dismantle the narrative he’s trying to build,” Aron said as he walked alongside Youssef toward the Imperial Government’s private section. “Also, prepare a press release detailing the punishment imposed on Kumakar, along with the conditions required for it to be lifted. Distribute it widely across his civilization. The people need to know who is truly behind their current predicament and prevent him from twisting the story to cast us as the villain.”

Youssef nodded, then hesitated briefly before voicing a concern. “Won’t using the VR network for narrative and information warfare make others even more wary of how much influence we have? They might see this as proof that we can shape their internal affairs and citizens’ outlook in ways their own governments can’t.”

He didn’t expect the Emperor to be unaware of that consequence. But within the Imperial Government, officials were trained to always ask the “obvious” questions, to confirm intentions clearly, reduce ambiguity, and avoid the rare but disastrous outcomes caused by assumptions. Orders were to be understood plainly, not interpreted through legacy knowledge or institutional lore.

“I know,” Aron replied firmly. “And that’s exactly the point. It needs to serve as a warning that we won’t just sit back while someone hurls accusations or provokes us under the false assumption that Conclave membership protects them.”

He came to a halt, turning to face Youssef directly before continuing in a more serious tone.

“There’s something else here, something we don’t know yet. Judging by his behavior, I don’t believe the destruction of his fleet is the only reason behind Kumakar’s aggression. Use your contacts. Dig into everything. Find out what it might be.”

Though Aron was addressing Youssef, the message was also intended for Nyx, who was undoubtedly monitoring the conversation. He didn’t voice his own suspicion yet. There was a chance he was wrong, and speaking it aloud might cause the Empire to misallocate critical resources toward a false lead. But deep down, something in Kumakar’s reaction didn’t add up.

And Aron trusted his instincts.