Chapter 197
Translator: uly
Chapter: 197
Chapter Title: Hypothesis on Higher Intelligence
Humanity knows that aliens are evolving to wage war against us with ever greater efficiency.
Aliens may have other purposes for their evolution, but the end result aligns with that view.
After all, there have been times when combat machines became obsolete because of it.
On top of that, Smog Tail—active these days and a major factor in information warfare and firepower clashes—is on the move, and small, high-risk species capable of effectively countering superhumans are on the rise.
Humanity was gripped by a profound sense of crisis toward aliens evolving faster than our technological advancements could keep up.
But this incident had planted a slightly different kind of unease.
Major General Rebel had two primary concerns.
The first was the possibility that deep-space exploration had drawn the aliens to us.
The second was the hypothesis of a higher intelligence capable of comprehending the exploration ship's complex navigation data—and willing to expend three Space Crawlers for its own objectives.
"Neither of those is something we can just announce outright."
"Even so, we have to halt exploration. The causal link isn't fully proven yet, but isn't it clear that it could provoke the aliens?"
"...How do we even stop it? 'Exploration is summoning aliens, so humanity can never venture into space. We're isolated.' How do you think the Union would react to that?"
"They'd panic. But we don't have to spell it out literally. We kill the exploration industry on policy grounds and redirect focus inward. We still don't fully understand the territories we've already conquered."
"There will always be people who do it anyway, no matter what we say."
"Greedy fools blinded by short-term gains or idiots chasing fantasies can't be reined in with words alone. We need the whip."
I raised my hand and mimed cracking a whip.
Here I was, trying to persuade him like some villain.
You know the type: dictators who suppress their people's freedoms in the name of national future and peace.
But this had to be done.
*The Union's dark hand is perfect for this. Even if it doesn't reach me yet, Major General Rebel can handle it.*
Conspiracy theories would swirl if exploration teams disbanded for mysterious reasons or failed outright, but that was far better than publicly revealing the truth and spreading a tragic atmosphere across society.
"...I never expected the Commander to think that far ahead."
Major General Rebel looked at me with genuine surprise.
I gave a slight smile and replied in a joking tone.
"Did you think I was some righteous protagonist straight out of a novel?"
"How did you read my mind? You're the hero. With your decisive performances in crises and dramatic survivals from impossible situations, anyone would think so."
"Any veteran superhuman has stories like that. In this era, I'm not uniquely heroic. You only see me that way because I stand out."
There was no exaggeration in my words.
Heroic deaths were happening every minute, every second.
Humanity's civilization still stood because of them, and I couldn't claim greater achievements just because my exploits caught the spotlight a few times.
But Major General Rebel shrugged, not fully buying it.
"Anyway, I'll talk to 'that side' about it. You don't need to worry about this anymore, Commander."
"It feels like I'm dumping my load on you."
"Haha, don't say that."
Under the unseen table, I clenched my fist tight.
This decision would drastically curtail deep-space exploration.
A measure years ahead of the original timeline.
Without this incident, I would've personally suppressed exploration team activities.
The exploration market had already shrunk compared to before, and with my wealth and influence, controlling the flow was well within reach.
The dark hand was about to be put in place anyway.
*I wonder how they're doing.*
Albert's face came to mind—the one who'd gone off to devour the Liberation Corps and promised to report back.
I'd told him failure meant retraining, and he'd gotten deadly serious.
"Um..."
While I was lost in thought, Major General Rebel let out a groan, pondering something.
He had the Space Crawler behavioral analysis report open, so he was likely dwelling on that hypothesis.
"...No matter how I look at it, the hypothesis holds."
His face had grown even graver than during the exploration ship discussion.
"You're talking about the hypothesis of a higher intelligence commanding all aliens?"
This wasn't entirely new.
Theories abounded: aliens as invasion weapons from hyper-advanced extraterrestrials, or hive minds controlled by powerful intelligences.
Countless assumptions existed.
But evidence to prove them had always been lacking.
We hadn't even fully uncovered the Hive Mind—as Breeder offspring and the brain of aerial assaults—so what more was there to say?
"I always thought no higher intelligence existed. The aliens' warfare was too simplistic for that. If a tactically thinking higher mind really existed, humanity would've been wiped out long ago, right?"
"That's the common view."
"But this incident changed my mind. Powerful entities like Space Crawlers acting with the same goal? Sacrificing their lives for it? Regular aliens, maybe, but high-grade ones like them have intelligence enough to instinctively grasp death—proven in countless cases. To make that possible requires a higher intelligence with ironclad command."
"..."
"Otherwise, it doesn't add up!"
"...That's grim. But if it has intelligence, why invade humans like this?"
I played dumb and asked.
Major General Rebel was among the top Union commanders in understanding aliens—not just experientially, but deeply, through research groups and initiatives he'd spearheaded.
He was seeking answers himself.
"...Maybe it just doesn't care about humanity's survival. One thing's clear: it doesn't consider it important."
"So you think it has other objectives?"
He took a sip to wet his throat and paused.
Then he looked at me and asked.
"Have you ever seen the first aliens humanity encountered? Ever compared them to now?"
"I learned about it at the Academy."
"Then you know. Aliens have advanced biologically and genetically beyond measure. It's not just getting stronger. They're becoming something more complex, more efficient. Some say evolution is mere adaptation, but that doesn't fit aliens."
"..."
"Look at the Space Crawler. Could you have imagined such a massive creature before seeing it? From a pure evolutionary standpoint, it's absurd. Something that inefficient should be unsustainable—normal biology says it couldn't maintain itself. Yet now it flies, even roams space!"
His voice trembled with excitement.
Realizing it, Major General Rebel steadied his breath and continued in a lower tone.
"Maybe humanity is just a stepping stone in their evolution. Seeing them waste three Space Crawlers like that only reinforces it. Even the push for Union offensives might need reevaluation..."
He looked exhausted.
By the end, Major General Rebel's face was utterly drained.
I ventured cautiously.
"But isn't that the strategy you've been championing all this time?"
"...That was when I believed no higher intelligence existed. Think about it. How would such a being change if threatened? That's what scares me."
He'd nearly become the fool who curiosity-driven opened Pandora's box and unleashed needless catastrophe.
I could read his thoughts without peering inside.
*To infer that much from limited info...*
I was impressed.
His reasoning had a few errors, but the big picture mostly aligned.
Excluding me, he was one of the humans who understood the alien lifeform most deeply.
*It's too early for despair.*
Maybe the conclusion was just too bleak.
Major General Rebel suddenly looked a decade older.
Decades of unified advocacy had crumbled, leaving him adrift.
The downside of realizing too soon.
I spoke carefully.
"It's still just a hypothesis. And even if true, it'd need tons of prep before it could act on it."
"...You're kind, too, Commander. And then you say you're no hero."
The last part was mumbled too softly to catch.
Major General Rebel bowed his head for a moment.
Then he lifted it, back to his usual self.
"But I don't need pity. A commander can't falter because one strategy hits a wall. If one path closes, prepare another. And if the enemy has intelligence, that could be our chance. Thinking means emotions, and emotions mean weaknesses."
"You're a born commander, sir."
"What can I do? Eighty years in the military, no marriage—gotta be this good or my life's wasted."
His smile was strikingly cool.
Major General Rebel rose slowly.
"Meeting's over. Thanks for making time amid your busy schedule, Commander. We'll handle the rest through specialists."
.
He headed for the door but paused suddenly.
"Oh! And I have a gift for you. Call it a present for surviving a trip inside a Space Crawler's gut."
"...A gift?"
"See for yourself."
Curiosity piqued, but he rushed out, so I couldn't ask more.
Both of us were swamped with Space Crawler aftermath.
After sorting the meeting docs and returning to the surface base on Acheron, I finally learned what the gift was.
"...This is?"
"There's a message from the Major General."
I opened the message from the adjutant.
It was a Space Crawler core.
From the third one—the last that had targeted my life in the astral dimension.
*Who'd have thought he'd gift this.*
The battle happened while I was creating the rift, escaping to our dimension, and falling dormant.
I'd only heard the outcome: after we vanished, the Union fleet repeatedly opened and closed rifts searching for us.
Hoping to connect comms, calculate position, and jump in.
Anyway, amid engine-overload risks, a Union rift was snagged, fixed, and out came the Space Crawler.
Combat ensued; it was surrounded and killed.
*So tenacious.*
The obsession was laughably intense.
Proof of how vital the Breeder's fluid was.
This core, Union military property, had been transferred to me via the Major General's authority.
Originally for reinforcing the damaged fleet, but the message's end mentioned space fortresses—a gesture to ease my burden.
*Now I have two Space Crawler cores secured on my end. And one body's worth of remains.*
My stockpile had taken a huge hit lately, so it stung.