Getting a Technology System in Modern Day

[Apologies for the silence in these few days. I was dealing with my cousin’s wedding]

Twenty Minutes Before the Explosion on Planet Kumpo

Deep within the cavernous hangar of the Erythian mothership, amidst the cacophony of a million bio-engineered monstrosities being unleashed, a small, silent group of three figures stood apart. They were clad in the distinctive, form-fitting overalls of the Shadari, their features completely obscured, their bodies a mere silhouette against the harsh hangar lights. They held their equipment with a practiced, steady grip, their final preparations complete.

“Let’s get to work,” one of them said, their voice a filtered, androgynous whisper.

Their surroundings shimmered, distorting for a fraction of a second. Then, they vanished.

They were still standing in the same spot, but now they were invisible, intangible, ghosts in the machine. Their bodies began to vibrate, a low, almost imperceptible hum, and they slowly sank through the deck of the ship, phasing through the hull as if it were made of smoke. They bypassed the ship’s active shielding without disturbing its energy field, then plunged into the void, their trajectory a straight, unwavering line towards the planet below.

The chaos of the orbital battle was irrelevant to them. Explosions bloomed around them, debris fields glittered in their path, but they passed through it all, untouchable, their phased state rendering the physical world a mere suggestion.

It took them five minutes to reach the planet’s atmosphere. They descended, still phased, their forms slipping through the layers of air, their sensors silently collecting, documenting, and analyzing everything. They moved with a singular purpose, their path converging on a single, pre-determined target: the heart of the planetary capital, the city center but they all took sliglty different paths as they went through some of the buildings and with that, collecting a few things from those buildings.

Once they reached their destination, hovering invisibly above the bustling metropolis, they dropped the packs they had been carrying. The packs, small and innocuous, fell through the air, phasing through buildings, through vehicles, through the very ground itself, until they reached their designated depth. They were activated instantly.

The three Shadari, their mission complete, immediately began their ascent. They were already miles away when the bombs detonated.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.

The explosion was silent in the vacuum of space, but its light was a terrible, blinding thing. The three Shadari, still ascending, were engulfed in the expanding fireball. But it did not touch them. They passed through it, unharmed, their phased state a perfect, absolute defense.

They collected the data they had gathered, their minds a cold, dispassionate repository of the chaos they had just unleashed, and began their return to the Erythian mothership. Their mission was over.

The moment they returned to the material world, their bodies re-solidifying in the sterile confines of their ship, the strain of their efforts became apparent. They dropped their equipment and the stolen pieces, placing them into special boxes before their bodies slumped.

One of them fell to his knees, his hands braced against the deck, his body heaving with silent, ragged breaths. There was no sweat, their suits absorbing every drop, but the rise and fall of their chests was a clear indication of the immense energy they had just expended. With each breath, the sound of their panting grew fainter, their bodies slowly returning to their baseline power levels.

Moments later, the order to withdraw was given. They did not question it. Despite the devastating blow they had just dealt, despite the apparent upper hand they now held, they obeyed instantly. Their fleets ignited their lightspeed drives, vanishing into the void. To open a wormhole now would be to risk being followed. The modus operandi was clear: retreat to a pre-designated, secure location, and only then, open the wormhole home.

………………….

Dreznor’s Command Center

{We suspect it is the Shadari,} the Little Protagonist stated, her voice a cold, analytical counterpoint to the raw, emotional footage of the Kumpo disaster playing on the main holographic display. {But there is still no direct evidence of their presence, other than this.}

She highlighted a series of data points: VR devices, their owners still at home, suddenly moving towards the city center; a dozen other seemingly inanimate objects, their GPS trackers pinging as they left the planet, their trajectory a straight line towards one of the Erythian ships before their signals vanished. It was a ghost trail, a series of impossible movements that pointed to only one conclusion.

“Has a similar event occurred on the other four planets?” Dreznor asked, his hand clenching into a fist, a desperate attempt to quell the shaking rage that threatened to consume him.

{Not yet,} the Little Protagonist replied. {But we have updated our protocols. All devices on the remaining planets are now transmitting their locations a thousand times a second. We are monitoring for any irrational or unexpected movements, any sign of Shadari infiltration.}

“Is there even a way to keep them out?” Dreznor’s voice was a low growl. “Even if we know where they are, what they are doing, can we even fight them?” His mind was already racing, searching for a path to revenge.

{The Empire has theories,} the Little Protagonist responded, a new video feed appearing on the display. It was footage of the Emperor’s duel with the Shadari representative. {To deal with them without the Emperor’s overwhelming perception, we must force them out of their phased state. It is an incredibly energy-intensive ability. To maintain it, they must consciously exhaust their own energy reserves. If we can disrupt that process, if we can force them to re-materialize, then their attacks will have no physical effect. They will be vulnerable.}

“Then update that information to all of our forces,” Dreznor commanded, a flicker of hope cutting through his rage. The Shadari, who had been a specter of myth and fear, were not invincible. They could be fought. They could be beaten. “Ensure they are monitoring for phased signatures and are ready to apply these countermeasures as soon as possible.”

{It is already being implemented,} the Little Protagonist confirmed. {But it seems they are not keen on continuing their fights. Their ships are already retreating from the other four systems.}

“The rescue efforts on Kumpo,” Dreznor said, his voice still tight. “The scale of the damage. Report.” He could not relax. He could not rest. He had to formulate a response, a retaliatory action that would not only force the Conclave to listen, but would also put them on the defensive. In a war of wormholes and interstellar distances, to be on the defensive was to be at the mercy of your enemy. And Dreznor would be at no one’s mercy ever again.