Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Miracle on the Ocean Planet
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It's a miracle.
With those words, the heavy silence shattered in an instant.
Some fish let out mournful wails, apparently close to the shark, while others raised their weapons in cheers.
Even though this planet had been under the Holy Nation's influence, there were no fish seeking their own gods.
"Isn't this that Ozz stuff?"
"So this is the power of a god!"
Gods above—!
Now there were.
They were still very much a tribal society, and before the Holy Nation shared their technology, they'd clearly been at a primitive tech level.
With tech that could regenerate eyes and skin, it was no wonder they saw it as a miracle.
A species with Earth-level technology would have dismissed it as advanced future tech instead.
I had no intention of becoming an object of worship, so I decided to reveal the truth.
Eventually, they'd learn it anyway once they stepped onto the galactic stage as members of PATO. No need to lie about it.
Explaining cellular cultivation and transplantation based on anatomical analysis to medieval tribesmen.
It was a truly horrific challenge.
It was so dull and pedantic that I wiped it from my memory.
"This must be the true technology from beyond the veil of sleep. I can only express my awe."
Before I knew it, the shark's skin tone had fully synced, rolling eyes that showed no trace of discomfort as he continued.
"It's an honor to have healed the sub-chief."
"Feel free to speak casually. It wouldn't be right to impose the world's etiquette on someone from outside it."
Thank you once again.
With that, the shark made what I assumed was a gesture of respect, roughly like a clasped-fist salute.
Since it was a gesture of thanks, it had to be something similar.
A shark with arms was a strangely fascinating sight.
It felt like he might burst out shouting "Tralala," a fad from two hundred years ago.
This bizarre shark was none other than the chief's son—a fairly high status.
An Earth shark would have been a lone operator, literally just the "chief's son" in name only.
If they'd lived that independently, they never would have built a civilization.
"A medicine that can heal the body in an instant... Even the travelers who visited before couldn't perform such miracles. It must be something precious. What is it you desire?"
I liked how quickly he got to the point.
Do you know how much care goes into creating a creature that carries all the genes for adaptation, complete with self-awareness and the ability to mutate on its own?
If they'd just gobbled it up and split its belly, I would've been seriously pissed.
Still, taking such a prompt stance on repayment showed they weren't an isolationist species that shunned outsiders.
Probably just a perception born from the limitations of an ocean planet.
But before asking if they'd join PATO, there was something I needed to check first.
"Just how much influence does this tribe wield on the planet?"
The reason PATO sought collaborators within the Holy Union was for military purposes.
For that, they at least needed permission to build in planetary orbit.
And such permission only mattered if the planet's ownership was clear.
If ownership wasn't defined, it was no different from some Native A giving approval.
It would hold no real power.
"I wouldn't know the standards of other worlds, but we consider ourselves a tribe with some influence."
"Some" wasn't going to cut it.
How about we just conquer the world while we're at it?
PATO could help, and it'd probably be quick.
But world conquest on this planet wasn't easy.
For starters, finding other tribes meant scouring this vast ocean bit by bit.
Searching 30% of Earth's surface versus 98%.
Even ignoring elevation, the area difference was that stark.
And even if conquered, it wouldn't hold.
They migrated with the seasons anyway, wandering for hunts, so conquest meant nothing.
What a ridiculous planet.
Better to shelve the frontal approach.
Subduing the entire ocean by force or diplomacy, laying communication networks, maintaining control, then formally joining PATO.
It felt like too much of a detour.
I needed another way.
As the galaxy's foremost pacifist, I didn't like inciting war either.
The Holy Nation and Empire showed no particular interest in this planet anyway.
So mixing in a little white lie should be fine.
For example, uniting only the coastal tribes near beaches exposed to the outside world.
Tribes near the surface didn't care about space visitors one way or another, and deep-sea folk would never surface anyway.
So didn't the coastal ones, as the sole point of contact, effectively hold all diplomatic rights?
"Sub-chief, our home also has an ocean—or rather, that's the word for a world made of this water. It has friends living in the sea. If they migrate here, would you accept them?"
"Of course."
"And this is a contract..."
A bumpkin fresh off the boat in the galactic city.
The very first contract such a bumpkin was drafting.
It was exceedingly simple.
If anyone from outside the world asked about affiliation, just say "PATO."
And they didn't care about anything beyond the ocean anyway, right?
In exchange for ceding rights to that useless star system to the Lushaka Kingdom, the kingdom would eagerly provide needed technology.
Too good a deal.
I didn't know who the Lushaka Kingdom was, but could they really do business at such a loss?
The sub-chief didn't know much about galactic contracts, but the word "contract" seemed to carry weight, as he took a cautious stance to review it.
Lushaka-parasite—nah, it needed a new name now.
Something like "Organic Regeneration Kit" would do.
To help with his review, I handed over a lump of regen kits.
"I hope we can maintain good relations going forward."
All that was left was to cruise the oceans and distribute this contract to every coastal tribe.
With the regen kits' tech level shocking the locals, winning them over was a breeze.
And since maintaining their current lifestyle meant zero downsides in the contract, things went smoothly.
You all aren't whatever tribes anymore—you're the Rourka Union now.
Just a name change, so keep living as usual.
If outsiders ask about affiliation, say PATO.
You don't care about the world beyond or galactic affairs, right?
Our dispatched friends will handle everything.
They look a bit like you locals, huh?
Coincidence, haha.
We were shocked at first too.
Other planet folks might mistake them for natives.
But it's not important—moving on.
You don't need to worry about a thing; these friends will represent Rourka Planet to the best of their ability.
Look at this asteroid.
Tons of minerals, right?
That's what we'll bring from space now.
We'll handle any outside raids too.
Oh, what's the price?
You signed the contract.
Space is useless to you, but crucial to us.
It's no loss for us either, so rest easy.
If outsiders contact you, don't answer hastily—go through our dispatched friends only. Don't forget.
And if you have excess fish or seaweed organics, hand them over—we'll trade for good stuff.
Need more regen kits? Bring lots of food, and we'll exchange.
Such rations are plentiful, right? Just look around.
Yes, yes, looking forward to working with you.
The takeover of Rourka Planet wrapped up quickly.
The ocean was vast, but abandoning the deep sea entirely made it too easy.
The depths could be surveyed and incorporated slowly over time.
And that was exactly why intervening in primitive civilizations was forbidden.
People confined to small worlds couldn't ignore transcendent culture from outside.
These sea-dwellers made it even easier—they were a special case.
Prior visitors had primed them to outside existence,
I offered tech only I could provide,
And as a low-profile species, no other nation spotted me mingling with natives.
Thus, in 2276, the Rourka Union—formerly part of the Holy Union—declared withdrawal from the Holy Union and joined PATO.
The Holy Nation stayed silent due to their non-interference treaty on the Union.
The Empire issued only a formal warning, planning to join themselves soon anyway.
The Holy Union raged at the defection, but theirs was a voluntary alliance.
Too early for the political-economic ties that bound PATO over long years.
Holy Union envoys visited the planet to protest.
"The Holy Union is formed by the voluntary participation of all nations. Isn't it?"
"But withdrawing so suddenly like this..."
"The Rourka Union never formally joined the Holy Union. You only made a pact with the Eastval Tribe, right? That doesn't represent all of Rourka."
The Rourka envoy, suddenly spouting international savvy, sent them packing.
"They weren't like that before..."
And so PATO planted a small dot on the opposite side of the galactic map.
A truly horrific egg-crack from the Holy Union's perspective.