Getting a Technology System in Modern Day - Chapter 913

Chapter 913: New Development V | The Voice of Reason
“The Terran Empire?” one of the leaders finally voiced, breaking the uneasy silence with the most controversial possibility yet.

A wave of murmurs and narrowed eyes followed, some in consideration, others in immediate rejection.

“They don’t have the wormhole technology to conduct these attacks,” another leader countered quickly, scoffing at the idea.

“But they might have learned it through the knowledge granted to them,” a third leader said, eyes flicking toward the Trinairan representative. “Especially after that duel with your representative. You all saw the broadcast.”

The Trinairan leader didn’t flinch. “We were the only ones who withheld the decryption keys. Also, possessing knowledge and being capable of applying it are two different matters,” he responded, calm but firm.

That didn’t stop the next question. “Was the encryption used in the knowledge the same as what you gave them to integrate into your civilization’s private star system?”

“No. They are entirely different systems,” the Trinairan leader answered again, a flicker of annoyance creeping into his voice.

“What about learning through the captured individuals? The fighter you sent was killed. Couldn’t they have recovered something? Biological memory traces, embedded tech, anything?”

A few heads nodded. The suggestion wasn’t far-fetched; many of their own civilizations used advanced means to extract even the faintest residue of information from corpses, especially those carrying battlefield enhancements.

“I’m sure you all saw it,” the Trinairan leader replied, frustration now evident in his voice. “His final attack ensured nothing remained. No body. No fragments. Not even trace matter to recover. There’s nothing to extract data from.”

He exhaled, reigning in his irritation. He could feel the growing pressure, not just from suspicion, but from the weight of collective fear. It wasn’t personal, not for most of them. They were desperate to solve the wormhole mystery because doing so meant uncovering at least half of who was truly behind the attacks.

Then came another question, sharp and considered.

“What if infiltration forces managed to extract data from one of the destroyed ships during the earlier battles?” one leader asked. “If they managed to salvage even fragments, data cores, navigation systems, couldn’t they reverse-engineer or theorize how the wormhole technology functions from that? After all, the Terrans have already shown a capacity to derive absolute coordinates. That alone suggests they’ve grasped at least a portion of the fundamentals.”

It wasn’t an accusation, it was a logical continuation of the discussion. Yet the depth of the question made some wonder if some leaders had spent time pondering this long before the meeting even started, despite how impossible that was.

This time, the Elara leader answered, his voice calm but authoritative. “To develop fleet-capable wormhole technology, you need more than just data. You need someone with a strong space affinity and a mind capable of grasping extraordinarily complex spatial mechanics. That’s half the equation. The other half is the infrastructure, technology built on principles that require generations of understanding. During the war, none of the individuals responsible for our wormhole systems were ever deployed to the front lines. They remained on our side of Conclave territory and did everything from here, far from any threat of capture. That’s how we operate.”

“The same goes for us,” the Feryn leader added immediately, not wanting to let the Elara representative stand alone in sounding competent or cautious.

Several heads nodded, but no one spoke. The implications were growing heavier.

Even if someone had stolen fragments of data… they’d still need brilliance, time, and resources to make sense of it.

It soon became clear that they weren’t the only ones exercising caution with their wormhole-capable individuals. Nearly every civilization had independently come to the same conclusion: leave those critical assets behind. Most had chosen to prioritize safety over flexibility, avoiding the risk of losing such strategic personnel in a potentially hostile situation.

Only the Trianrians and a few among the top ten civilizations had brought any of their wormhole openers with them. These few, who each possessed at least a dozen individuals capable of initiating wormholes, had opted for greater adaptability because even if they lost them, they had more at home.

“But who else could seed the number of mana stones needed for such a massive operation?” one of the lower-ranked leaders asked, voice firm and steady as he stepped into the rising uncertainty. “They’ve already demonstrated their capability for rapid-scale production with that Trade Hub of theirs. It’s not unreasonable to think they’ve been preparing for something like this since we first discovered them. They had the time.”

He paused, then continued, laying out the steps one by one, as if walking the others through a logical sequence of suspicion.

“As for coordinates, we gave them that ourselves, under the wormhole lane project. Their VR integration might’ve also exposed them to sensitive strategic intel. Ship designs? They could’ve easily recorded them during the war, or reconstructed them through the knowledge each of you surrendered as part of your end of the agreement following their victory.”

He let the room digest that before continuing, “And wormhole tech… even if they couldn’t decrypt the knowledge you provided, what’s to say they didn’t learn more by observing the wormhole lane development itself? They were part of it, after all.”

The silence that followed was heavy, thoughtful, and shocked. Some of the leaders, particularly those who had lost territory, started to murmur among themselves. A few began to lean toward belief. Others went further, sketching the outlines of potential retaliation plans in their minds.

Suspicion had found its first real target.

“Your speculations have gone too far,” the Zelvora leader interjected, his voice sharp enough to slice through the growing murmur of suspicion. Nearly every leader turned his hologram, but before anyone could respond, he continued, refusing to let the conversation spiral further.

“Those assumptions would only make sense if the attacks began after the Empire had access to the knowledge you’re referring to. But let’s be clear, the majority of the explanations some of you are giving only became possible after the attacks were already underway.”

He raised a hand and began ticking off his points one by one, calm but forceful.

“First, the mana stone argument doesn’t stand up to scrutiny. There’s no visual confirmation that the attackers are using wormhole technology at all; it remains speculation. And even if they are, that doesn’t confirm they’re powered by mana stones. Just because we haven’t made a breakthrough doesn’t mean the enemy hasn’t. We can’t assume their technology mirrors ours.”

“Second, the knowledge provided to the Empire didn’t include blueprints. It only explained the possibility and the explanation of concepts. Whether they can make use of that knowledge is a completely different matter, and a monumental challenge.”

“Third, without the decryption keys, there is no way to access the deeper layers of that data. Any brute-force attempts will trigger self-destruction protocols in the storage devices after a limited number of failed tries. You all know this. It’s our shared safeguard.”

“Fourth, they gained access to absolute coordinates not because of some clever trick, but because they still possess Xalthar’s ship, the very one that originally provided us with their location. That ship alone makes it possible for them to have the technology to do that.”

“Fifth, the wormhole lane project is designed to be information-tight. Our wormhole openers remain inside ships with continuous anti-surveillance technology running. Even if someone tries to observe, they’d gain nothing. And even if they did somehow observe something, they’d still need extensive additional data to replicate the functionality.”

“Sixth, if the Empire truly had the technology and capability to launch attacks of this scale, why would they help us improve our own mobilization? Why would they actively assist in pegging their currency to mana stones, giving us greater access to the very thing that will also allow us to use the Wormholes as we want without worry? They could have easily continued operating like before, limiting our supply without raising suspicions.”

“Seventh, and this is vital, even if they had gathered data through VR, the scale of that effort would be monumental. Organizing, storing, categorizing, and interpreting such diverse and chaotic streams of civilian VR activity to the level required for strategic exploitation would be next to impossible. And again, most of that access came only after the attacks started.”

He paused then, letting his words settle.

“I could go on, but I think these seven reasons are enough to dissuade any rational mind from seriously considering the Empire as the culprit. Everything they are doing now contradicts the goals of these attacks. If they were behind them, they wouldn’t be investing in projects that strengthen the Conclave. That would be entirely counterintuitive.”

The room quieted, many of the murmurs dying off.

As always, the Zelovra were skilled at deconstructing complex arguments down to their core components. And in this moment, that clarity was crucial, because misjudging the Empire, especially now, could be catastrophic. The Conclave was already growing dependent on the Empire’s trade networks and wormhole lane initiatives. Turning away from those projects because of unfounded suspicions would be like giving sight to the blind for a week, then snatching it away, forcing them to stumble through darkness once again, fully aware of what they’d lost.