Upon hearing that, the high-ranking officials in Conference Room One, as well as the civilians anxiously waiting in their residential spacecraft, all felt their hearts leap into their throats.
First, highlight the benefits and the value of one’s own side to entice the other party, and then present one’s own chips—this is the standard negotiation process. And now, the most crucial stage, concerning the survival of one’s own civilization and the personal interests of every individual, has arrived!
Whether their side would commit suicide, beco slaves, or still live freely, depended on this mont!
The chanical Disaster’s reply ca after a mont of silence. It was a silence that felt heavier than gravity. In that brief pause, the only sound in the conference room was the rhythmic humming of the air recyclers and the terrified, shallow breathing of the generals. Sweat beaded on foreheads, glistening under the harsh tactical lights.
"Oh? Tell your conditions."
Heirlan looked at the vast deep space beyond the viewport, his heart unprecedentedly calm.
Their side had laid out all their chips. And now, their side did not know how much value these perceived chips held in the other party’s mind, or how much benefit they could secure for their side. It was a gamble in the dark. He was playing poker against a machine that could calculate probability to the millionth decimal.
If he asked for too high a price, exceeding the other party’s expectations, it could very likely lead to the other party imdiately turning hostile, causing their side to lose everything. If he asked for too low a price, it would cause significant losses to their side.
Every word, every phrase, every subtle point of insistence and concession, could an the life or death of tens of thousands of people.
Under such imnse psychological pressure, Heirlan’s words, however, showed no emotional fluctuation. He forced his facial muscles into a mask of iron, locking his trembling hands behind his back where no one could see them.
He rely spoke calmly, as if chatting with soone ordinarily: "Our side requires sufficient security guarantees."
"I can promise you that once Human Civilization is successfully captured, I will let you leave."
"Not enough!"
Heirlan suddenly shouted, his voice echoing off the tal walls. "Our side requires an objectively existing security guarantee that is not subject to your will! Our side cannot entrust the survival of our civilization to your whim!
Our side needs sufficient military power. This military power can be limited to a degree that cannot fundantally threaten you, but it must be able to ensure that after achieving our strategic goal of capturing Human Civilization, even if you go back on your word, it can still protect our main fleet and forcefully break through your fleet’s encirclent!
At the sa ti, once Human Civilization is defeated, our Havilah Civilization needs 10 billion human captives!"
What greeted Heirlan was a long silence.
Heirlan’s heart, which had experienced many turbulences, was now as still as an ancient well. The other high-ranking officials, however, had turned pale, their hearts pounding uncontrollably.
In one residential spacecraft after another, countless civilians, officials, wealthy individuals, scholars, and so on, so had even fainted on the ground, while others lay limp, mumbling, not knowing which deity they were praying to. Mothers clutched their children, covering their ears as if to block out a death sentence that hadn’t been spoken yet. The wait was a torture worse than the war itself.
Amidst the vast torrent, Heirlan stood like a pillar, unmoving and majestic, as if he had already gained complete assurance in his heart.
But, after a long while, the chanical Disaster’s reply shattered everyone’s illusions.
"I cannot agree to that."
The sentence struck like a physical blow. Several high-ranking officials’ eyes went dark, and they fainted directly. In one residential spacecraft after another, almost unconscious cries suddenly erupted. Despair spread like a virus, faster than the speed of light. Hands hovered over red buttons, ready to initiate the overload, ready to turn their civilization into dust.
Heirlan suddenly looked up, his expression grave, at the vast deep space beyond the viewport. He didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. He waited.
"I can give you 10 billion human captives. But according to my war model calculations, the warships sufficient for your breakthrough would lead to too high a degree of uncontrollability for you, posing a threat to .
The limit I can accept is to allow you to control a military force of no more than 200,000 warships and their accompanying unmanned combat facilities, logistical supplies, and maintenance facilities.
This military force cannot allow you to break through my encirclent, but... it can buy enough ti for your collective suicide, and at the sa ti, it can cause a loss of about 200,000 to 300,000 warships."
Heirlan’s eyes instantly narrowed. He imdiately perceived the true aning hidden within this condition. His mind raced, dissecting the logic of the machine.
If the chanical Disaster went back on its word, their side could still buy enough ti for a collective suicide, which ant that the chanical Disaster going back on its word would not gain them any advantage.
Their side could cause the chanical Disaster a loss of 300,000 to 400,000 warships. While this was not a major issue for the chanical Disaster, it was still a loss.
It was the logic of "Mutual Assured Destruction," miniaturized. The chanical Disaster was handing him a loaded pistol. It wasn’t enough firepower to kill the enemy, but it was enough firepower for Heirlan to shoot himself in the head before the enemy could capture him. And in doing so, he would bloody the enemy’s nose.
It was a guarantee based on loss aversion.
If it went back on its word, there would be no benefit, but rather a loss—and no matter how big this loss was, it was still a loss, wasn’t it?
This was the chanical Disaster’s display of sincerity.
The only thing their side needed to worry about was whether, at that critical mont, their side could truly make the decision to commit collective suicide?
Perhaps the chanical Disaster’s intention and the trap it laid was to bet that their side would not dare to commit collective suicide at that ti, but would always leave so lucky survivors. Those survivors, perhaps, were the gains the chanical Disaster planned for.
But, at this mont...
Heirlan’s eyes glead, and he roared, "Deal!"
There was no ti to consider so much. Survival was the only priority.
The chanical Disaster’s reply ca again: "Deal."
Beyond the viewport, the myriad stars that had dimd instantly brightened again. Heirlan knew that it was the tail fla light of the enemy warships encircling their fleet simultaneously engaging their propulsion and moving away from their fleet.
"Next, our fleet will maintain a distance of 20 million kiloters from your fleet, escorting your fleet. The closest solar system to us is 3.6 light-years away. Change your orbit and go to that solar system. In that solar system, we will complete our mutual integration and developnt, and then, proceed to the Lyra G16 Solar System to fulfill our mutual promises..."
"Good."
In the na of the Havilah Civilization’s Head of State, Heirlan solemnly replied on behalf of the entire civilization.
The communication ended, and the connection was cut.
Heirlan, who had been as unmoving as a mountain, suddenly collapsed. As if he had exhausted all his strength, his body swayed and then he slumped to the ground. His face was pale, and his breath was faint. The adrenaline that had held him upright vanished, leaving him a trembling shell.
"Head of State, Head of State!"
A group of high-ranking officials scrambled over, and then heard Heirlan mumbling, "I’m fine, I’m fine, let rest a bit, rest a bit..."
He slowly closed his eyes.
Lyra G16 Solar System.
At this mont, under Tom’s control and accelerated by the gravity of the star itself, as many as 500 billion cubes had all impacted the star.
Because the orbits had been specifically set beforehand, the impact points of these cubes were very evenly distributed across the entire star, not even sparing the North and South Poles.
Lyra G16 has a radius of 700,000 kiloters and a total surface area of approximately 6.15 trillion square kiloters. The impact of 500 billion cubes ant that roughly one cube would be allocated to every 12 square kiloters.
And the impact of one cube could release energy equivalent to the explosion of 4.6 billion tons of TNT explosive. This was equivalent to detonating a giant hydrogen bomb with a yield of approximately 380 million tons of TNT per square kiloter!
The scene was apocalyptic. The surface of the star, usually a roiling ocean of golden plasma, was suddenly pitted by billions of blinding white flashes. It looked as if the star itself was shuddering in pain. The photosphere rippled violently, shockwaves colliding and overlapping, tearing apart the magnetic loops that danced on the surface.
Great plus of superheated gas were ejected thousands of kiloters into space, forming a chaotic, glowing nebula around the star. The light was so intense that even the sensors on the distant observation drones dimd automatically to prevent burnout.
Such imnse energy, spread across the entire star, leaving no blind spots. With a cleansing of this scale, what form of life could survive on a star?
Tom’s lips curled into a slight smile as he looked at the "furious" star after the impact. The fiery chaos reflected in his eyes, a beautiful destruction of his own making.
"Finally, I can develop technology without any reservations..."
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