Shining Progress Inevitably Casts a Shadow (3)

Now, this little scheme of mine — the whole divide-and-conquer gambit — happened to be something the other players found genuinely fascinating.

Which made sense, really. Even though I filtered what I shared about my current situation, I'd been posting about it on the gallery with an attitude of "you guys should keep an eye on this too," after all.

Naturally, the other players reacted with great interest, spewing out all manner of speculation that bordered on pure guesswork — or fidgeting in excitement over just how helplessly the refugees were about to get steamrolled by my actions.

Either way, it left me with no choice but to wonder: would the very strategy that turned South Korea into a cesspit back in the real world work here too?

And honestly, it wasn't just Korea. Back then, the divide-and-conquer meta had governments around the entire globe shuddering in their boots, all the same.

It had reached the point where even the most grizzled veterans were watching my strategy closely and chiming in with "actually, this might work."

So me holding out hope that an answer would somehow emerge was, in a way, an entirely natural reaction.

But if there was one thing neither I nor the other players had factored in, it was this: while the approach itself was far from useless — and in the early stages it did produce results, delivering genuinely meaningful outcomes —

the problem was that this little divide-and-conquer trick of mine was, frankly speaking at a galactic scale, one of the most ordinary, garden-variety strategies in existence.

It had been all of three days since I'd begun drawing up the strategy in earnest and putting it into motion.

"Doctor, the newly fast-tracked refugees keep stirring up trouble among themselves."

"Huh? What, why? Didn't I screen them properly during the interviews?"

"They've been exchanging messages with their 'family' occupying the Outer Space Port, and the peculiar, low-born filth of the refugee class has been seeping into them."

"Ehh...."

"And setting that aside, some of them hold grudges over their assigned work and lash out, while others quietly play broker, smuggling their families into our territory."

"Ehh."

"Furthermore, I have more to report. The refugees' native religion clashes not only with the Milano star system's own indigenous faith, but even with the Babel Cult — conflicts are flaring up all over the place."

"Eeeeeh."

"On top of that, the people recruited on days one and two are being egged on by the day-three recruits and degenerating into the exact same garbage — it's happening left and right."

"....."

"And this is a report I received just before coming to brief you, Doctor, but some refugees have been infiltrating cities on the capital planet and the other colonial worlds, maneuvering to make themselves the majority faction — and..."

"And?"

"The moment they actually become the majority, they don't just force their religious principles on everyone — they apparently intend to establish de facto extraterritorial zones."

".....Haaah?"

Absurd as it was, in running the divide-and-conquer meta — the extreme favoritism of the carrot and the stick — I'd assumed the ones who joined us would pledge loyalty to our side. Instead, these damned refugees treated the privilege as nothing more than a vehicle for projecting their own influence, while simultaneously demanding that refugees like themselves be treated on par with full citizens.

It turned out their behavior was very, very similar to how the Muslim refugees back on real-world Earth had run rampant with their "Sharia law," carving out enclaves for themselves across Europe and America.

And it was right about then that I gained a fresh appreciation for why those grizzled veterans so openly voiced their annoyance — their outright hatred — of refugees.

But here came yet another twist: this behavioral pattern of theirs usually worked because someone actually took them in?

In other words, it only thrived under a very conciliatory, pro-alien, pro-refugee government — or one that simply lacked the slack to push back.

So naturally, they'd infiltrate the interior, buddy up to the existing power holders, and install themselves as local magnates.

Or, failing that, they planned to outright topple the star system and feast on it — repeating exactly what their kin had done everywhere else. But the unpredictable variable here was that the true ruler of the Milano star system they'd landed in, one Benya Tomiri, had a personality very, very far removed from that standard case.

A week had quietly slipped by since the refugees had been formally taken in.

"There is no place easier to devour than one ruled by a sucker."

"Well said, Chief!"

Having quietly seized a chunk of the Lombardia City district on the capital planet Milano-III through sheer numbers, squeezing the existing residents until they fled, and now planning to legally elect their own people onto the city council — building a foothold for a slow, methodical takeover — the refugee factions were raising toasts and celebrating their imminent victory.

And in that very instant—

*BOOOOM!*

"Gwaaagh?!"

"Wh-what the—?! A terrorist attack?!"

Demoria Marines or Milano system security forces came storming in after blowing the mansion's front door clean off its hinges. Or else the Black Scourge Legion — and before the refugees could mount any response whatsoever, every last one of them was forcibly ejected into open space. No, wait.

"What in the world is—"

"Chief! Our people have all been thrown out too!"

"Up until this very moment we were working just fine, and then out of nowhere they told us we couldn't work with them anymore and cut us from the job on the spot!"

"We got kicked out suddenly too?"

"Goddamn bastards, all of them!"

What actually happened was this: the roughly 300,000 refugees from the initial intake were simultaneously rounded up and force-marched to the space port. Before the refugee factions could make a single move, my forces had nimbly used raw numbers to seal off every approach route — leaving the refugees facing a situation so absurd they could hardly comprehend ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it.

And then, once those 300,000 refugees who'd been scattered all over the system arrived at the space port and rejoined their fellow packs—

"Goddammit. But if we dig in here and hold out somehow, then somehow—"

"Hey, hold on... battleships! Battleships incoming!"

"Wh-what?!"

"Don't talk nonsense! How the hell are we supposed to load tens of millions of people onto the fleet within 24 hours?!"

"A-at least grant us three more days! We have elderly and small children with—!"

"HUOOOOH?!"

The system's mere two Battleships — along with the Battlecruiser serving as Colonel Barvel's flagship of the squadron — and the bulk of the system fleet deployed to form an encirclement.

Declaring, in no uncertain terms, that anyone who refused to leave would get outright ravaged, the entire fleet pivoted its stance in the blink of an eye — and everyone watching could do nothing but stand there, utterly dumbfounded.