Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: The Steel Empire
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Diplomatic ties with the Holy Nation hadn't been severed, but relations had naturally cooled off.
Varisa and the Amphibian Cooperative's friends went about their business as if it were no big deal, but expecting things to stay as friendly as before after building fortresses along the border was just wishful thinking.
Come to think of it, we were never really that chummy to begin with, were we?
It was the Holy Nation that barged in yelling "Hand over the Ozz, guwaaaah!!" practically the moment diplomatic channels opened.
I'm innocent here.
Still, their motto seemed unchanged: as long as you had faith, anyone could be a resident regardless of appearance. The Hiraks who had lived in the Holy Nation from the start continued to live there without discrimination.
That was a relief, at least.
It would have been a nightmare to expel the Hiraks and then try planting new spies in their place.
You'd have to cross the border and craft disguises that wouldn't raise suspicions.
Luckily, the Prophet was turning a blind eye to the remaining Hiraks.
She didn't seem too interested in our current bilateral relations, but since she could detect "me," full-on spy games would be tough if we entered open hostility.
Not that those spies could get anywhere near Ozzatlan anyway.
No matter how I looked at it, investigating Ozzatlan seemed the only way to get a real grasp on Ozz, but alas.
Deep down, part of me even thought a full-blown war might not be so bad.
From what I'd seen during the delegation visit, their visible warships were all manageable with Treegalaon-Beta-class forces.
Might as well mine resources to feed the ever-hungry Colossus—and wouldn't war actually be cheaper in the long run? That idea lingered in the back of my mind.
But war never broke out.
Someone had to strike first, and as the galaxy's foremost pacifist, I wasn't about to attack another civilization like some barbarian.
Beyond that, the Holy Nation controlled a territory larger than PATO's. Who knew what hidden weapons they had tucked away?
Underestimating the enemy was the worst kind of carelessness.
The Holy Nation lacked a dictatorial central controller, but their Prophet wielded massive influence and clearly had no interest in war, so there wasn't much momentum for starting one.
"Those barbaric heretics."
"Why's this rock staring at me? Speak up. I said I don't do thought waves."
"Tch. Even their minds are so feeble. Truly insect-like."
"Do these guys not have mouths? Nope, they don't."
All that happened was fortresses slowly multiplying along the border, making the frontier a bit rougher.
In this standoff where two forces carving up the galaxy kept eyeing each other warily, what did you need to gain an edge short of actual war?
A third power to tip the scales would be ideal, but none had emerged yet.
So naturally, thoughts turned to crushing them with economic and technological might.
And as I'd realized back on Earth, every industry needs competition to really thrive.
Unprecedented amounts of capital began circulating across PATO territory.
"From today onward, sleep's down to two hours. Gotta earn that paycheck, right?"
"Research Draft on a New Weapon that Disrupts Enemy Hyperspace Acceleration by Broadcasting Space Whale's Semi-Gravity Waves Through Stellar Space Stations Across the Star System, Blocking Hyperlane Access and Securing Strategic Superiority"
"Hm, not bad."
Even Ferma Planet, Lushaka Kingdom's industrial hub, could no longer pass as a barren rock in disguise—it shone brilliantly, fulfilling its role to the fullest.
On top of Lushaka-led biotech and genetic engineering, massive investments poured into physics, chemistry, aerospace, metallurgy, mechanical engineering, electronics, energy, and more.
Ozz was no longer used sparingly as a limited resource.
We stripped every last bit from across PATO and periodically dispersed it to actively create more Psionics.
The committee established Psionic Academies, recruiting emerging superhumans to kick off serious Psionic research.
These institutions taught proper superhuman techniques while defining, analyzing, and studying the powers through vast sample pools.
With full cooperation from all PATO member states, gathering talent was a breeze.
"Tch, a barrier, huh."
"Kneel. This is the difference in our levels."
As a mental power, Psionics manifested in wildly diverse abilities.
We rounded them all up and funneled them straight into the academies.
No opt-outs. Who knew what trouble they'd cause if left alone?
Most were so weak they needed Ozz just to activate, but plenty wielded potent forces without relying on the drug.
After training in theory and usage, they were deployed to fitting jobs across PATO.
Telekinetics went to nanoscience labs or construction sites based on precision or power.
Pyrokinetics, able to freely control temperatures, headed to chemistry or metallurgy labs.
Military drafts were rare.
What use were superhumans who couldn't even scratch a Treegalaon no matter how hard they tried?
Top special-agent material vanished without a trace by graduation—or never enrolled to begin with.
No, they couldn't. Space-age governments weren't incompetent enough to let such talent roam free.
The rest graduated straight into grad school for research assistant gigs or slaved away on construction sites.
But hey, the pay was great. Drinks on me.
Just like the Soviets flaunted tech with Sputnik during the Cold War, mind games raged between the Holy Nation and PATO.
Their fields differed, so to me it was pointless posturing, but the players saw it differently.
"PATO proudly announces to its citizens that, having perfected theories on planetary orbits, rotations, and gravity, we can now construct habitable orbital zones and orbital rings."
"After rigorous mental discipline, we've achieved real-time telepathy beyond hyperspace lanes to neighboring systems. The Holy Nation is now poised to leave even greater footprints across the galaxy."
Enemy breakthroughs damped spirits, only for our counter-announcements to spark cheers.
Tech advanced faster, and public opinion was easier to steer.
Was picking a fight with the Holy Nation actually helping?
External enemies had a way of binding the home front tight.
PATO internal bonds strengthened too, with more collaborative industries.
I even got props from the Prophet.
She called the fortresses a smart move.
Watching her praise it made me doubt if it was so smart after all.
This rivalry dragged on for years.
Short-lived species began outright viewing the other as enemy territory.
When kids grew up hearing "that's the enemy nation," such sentiments formed naturally.
2254.
The year wrinkle-faced President Lydia Moretti eked out a fifth term.
The year the Bahilila professor who'd taught Psionics on Lushaka succumbed to old age.
And the year a new power emerged to shake up the balance.
New factions popped up constantly, but they were too small or too primitive—stuck planetside—to tip scales.
Until now. We'd found a massive one to break the deadlock.
And it was a bunch of tin cans.
God must exist.
Balancing the galaxy like this, right on cue.
Organic hive-mind PATO forces, rock-spirit-led faith bloc, inorganic machine faction.
These new tin cans weren't like the ultra-AI Telluris Assimilators we'd met before.
They were pure machines—circuits and electrical signals—but each had distinct thoughts, egos, and full personalities.
Their government? A constitutional monarchy.
Calling themselves the "Steel Empire," robot citizens bowed to robot emperor and nobility in an authoritarian state.
What kind of species is this?
Naturally, the Holy Nation—which legally banned AI advancement—refused to acknowledge them.
Not like the UN snubbing Taiwan; they just didn't see machines as "people."
How could a CPU's electric pulses house a soul?
They had every reason to hate it.
PATO leaned heavy on biotech over robotics due to Lushaka influence, so no sentient AIs here either.
Treat thinking, feeling machines as normal folk?
The galaxy's top pacifist and sole voice of reason—me—could handle it, but it sparked fierce debates within PATO.
Anyway, the Empire's arrival shattered the 1:1 deadlock.
The two met and immediately started growling, turning PATO from ring contender to sidelines spectator in a flash.
Godless tin cans vs. brain-dead zealots.
My chest swells with pride.