External pressure was needed to exacerbate the internal conflict.
Ayla initiated this war to create that pressure.
The failure of the attack would inevitably be detected by Tilted Station.
The gravity weapons consumed immense energy; each shot required the equivalent of ten thousand years of the Federation's energy production.
This massive energy expenditure, coupled with the initial defeat, would destabilize Tilted Station.
While Tilted Station should have been unaffected by this, it was now a powder keg.
Before the remnants of the fleet returned, the shared consciousness detected this failure.
"Who made this reckless decision?"
"They didn't even consider the Federation's surveillance capabilities along the Silk Road."
"Fools! This should have been anticipated."
Anger surged through the shared consciousness. This decision hadn't been made by a few; it was a consensus.
Those who had been criticized responded angrily.
"We proposed a plan and refinements; what did you do? Are you all so incapable of planning?"
"You should be doing this, bleeding these fools dry under Gas Glory's benevolence."
The leader's role was to mediate these conflicts.
The newly appointed leader lacked the ability to manage the shared consciousness; he was in a power vacuum. As predicted, he hadn't fully separated from the shared consciousness.
When he tried to correct errors, the hierarchical structure of the shared consciousness resisted, refusing to obey.
His authority was unprecedentedly weak.
Tilted Station was spiraling towards collapse.
Attempts at mediation failed; the mediators lacked sufficient authority, and the conflict continued unabated. Mediators even became embroiled in the conflict themselves.
It was a vicious cycle.
The flaws inherent in the societal structure manifested on a massive scale.
A hundred million beings had a hundred million opinions.
How could 8 quadrillion individuals be unified?
Even Ayla's attempts at intervention would resulted in server overload and system collapse.
The required processing power was immense, exceeding even the creation of a Simulated Universe.
The only solution was to reset the shared consciousness.
Or for a truly independent third great leader to emerge, guiding Tilted Station through another revolution.
And now, Tilted Station's collapse was inevitable.
Ayla hadn't anticipated such a swift collapse; it would still take time.
She was unaware of Luna's condition; she might arrive to find her dead.
But she had to wait.
Waiting for the conflict to escalate. Her presence would temporarily quell the conflict, delaying its ultimate resolution.
Tilted Station was both a station and a warship.
The Federation was now incredibly vulnerable, like an ant trying to stop a meteor traveling at Mach 100.
...
Three hundred years later.
Internal conflict within Tilted Station escalated into open war.
The station fragmented into five smaller stations, orbiting the star in different trajectories.
Within the first fifty years, the five factions lost 1600 warships—a devastating loss.
These warships were part of Tilted Station.
Tilted Station was composed of countless microscopic machines that could transform into anything.
But warships required energy and specific materials, limiting their number. 1600 lost warships was already significant.
Seventy years later.
Another, even larger, conflict erupted. Ayla saw her opportunity.
She personally piloted a small warship (1000 meters long), less than the original Hope, into the star system.
This ship, however, was equipped with advanced cloaking technology, combining aspects of the barrier technology. It manipulated electromagnetic fields to bend light, confining energy within a limited range, blending into the cosmic background radiation.
Gravity could also bend light, but its infinite range made containment within a confined area impractical. The energy requirements were too great.
Ayla bypassed the Olive Branch's surveillance satellites, whose primary function wasn't reconnaissance but detection.
This wasn't easy; Tilted Station used gravitational potential energy, and its gravitational sensors were highly sensitive.
Gravity, according to general relativity, affects everything; even a small warship (millions of tons) would be easily detectable.
A barrage of lasers struck the ship.
Advanced civilizations still used lasers; they were cheap and effective. Photons are only directly affected by gravity or gravitational lensing effects; other defensive measures are essentially energy exchanges. Lasers are therefore effective against weaker opponents.
Ayla's ship was struck. The energy reached the barrier's limits, shattering it; the resulting shockwave destroyed the ship.
There was no resistance.
Against overwhelming power, defenses were futile.
But Ayla had anticipated this.
The destroyed ship fragmented. A small piece (approximately 15 meters) traveled at 11.5 km/s towards another station.
It took 175 years to cross 63.4 billion kilometers, reaching the station.
Using precise trajectory calculations, it struck the station's defenses, transforming into a liquid.
This liquid solidified into a fishing line and entered the station at three times the escape velocity, traveling 4.9 billion kilometers to ensnare a rigid, cold body.
The process took 19 years.
The body fell from the station's defenses, unnoticed, towards the below.
...
Luna awoke to the sight of a woman with long, flowing white hair cascading down to her waist, her movements causing the hair to brush against the bed. A unique fragrance filled the air.
The white robe seemed a little tight, clinging to her body.
This wasn't the robe's fault; it was...
The woman turned, her face radiant. "Master, you're awake," she exclaimed, then, like a shop assistant, curtsied, causing the entire warship to tremor slightly.
Luna momentarily believed it was Ayla.
But after nearly ten thousand years on Tilted Station, she remained calm.
"Have we arrived?"
She shifted her gaze; the bright ceiling lights were intense, causing visual distortions if stared at for too long.
During her hibernation, she’d been entirely unconscious, unaware of her surroundings.
She had, however, prepared for both eventualities—capture and death at the hands of the Olive Branch, or rescue by the Federation.
Judging by her current surroundings, it was likely the latter.
"Luna, you seem more alert. You would have been far more disoriented before," Ayla said, appearing before Luna as a one-meter-tall girl wearing a frilly white dress, white knee-high socks, butterfly wings—a quintessential fairy.
"You haven't changed, Ayla."
Seeing Ayla’s familiar form, Luna was flooded with memories of their long shared past.
Not just the primary Ayla, even the subordinate unit had been absent for a very long time.
For millennia, Luna had been alone, facing the vastness of Tilted Station by herself.
She knew, of course, that her survival was also due to Ayla’s efforts within the Federation.
Luna got out of bed, but her body felt weak.
"Luna, you entered hibernation in space. The extreme cold and radiation damaged your body severely. Fortunately, the nanobots repaired most of it. Otherwise, you would be dead," Ayla said seriously.
Luna nodded weakly.
The hibernation pod had some protective measures, and her powered armor also shielded against radiation.
But the radiation levels within Tilted Station were far higher than normal space.
She'd known the radiation levels were dangerous but preferred it to dehydration in the gravity prison.
Hibernation and deep sleep were fundamentally different.
It had been the right choice.
"How long was I asleep?" Luna asked, suspecting considerable time had passed.
"1129 years."
Ayla's response surprised Luna. Had it been that long since escaping the prison?
The stout medic produced a wheelchair, helping Luna into it.
"What's the current situation? With Tilted Station?" This was Luna's main concern.
"Tilted Station no longer exists. Internal conflict caused it to fracture into five smaller stations. As expected of a civilization that collapsed due to civil war; their infighting is swift and brutal," Ayla replied.
Luna could imagine the scene.
"But we're still no match for them, even now," Luna stated. A wounded lion was still dangerous.
Luna's original goal wasn't conquest but establishing leverage.
"I believe there's still an opportunity," Ayla said.
Luna shook her head.
"Tilted Station is just one of dozens. Even if we could conquer it, we shouldn't."
"We simply need to create chaos to buy us more time."
"The conflict between Tilted Station and the Filament has escalated. They'll shift their focus to that."
"We need to focus on recovery and spreading dissent among the other Olive Branch stations."
"I have an idea."
"Release Chu!"
Ayla understood immediately. Chu, freed, would become a destabilizing factor. And as a dedicated leader, Chu would try to resolve Tilted Station's internal issues—their chance to strike.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Control meant opportunity.
This was what Luna had been working towards for ten millennia.
"You're still thinking about this, Luna?" Ayla said, appearing beside her in a more matronly guise.
"You should relax."
"We're going home."
"Welcome back, Luna."
Ayla wanted Luna to rest. Even the medic's disguise was part of this. But this concerned the Federation's fate, Luna's own survival; she couldn't relax.
"I hope we've bought ourselves enough time," Luna mused.
She was wheeled to the dining area; the sight of food reminded her of her hunger.
She ate ravenously, then daintily wiped her mouth with a napkin, before returning for seconds—steamed dragonfish, sautéed dinosaur, grilled dragon tail.
After the feast, Luna remembered something important.
"How are the Lightwings doing in the Federation?" she asked.
Ayla accessed the database.
"Their population exceeds 30 billion."
A considerable number, but after ten millennia, Luna felt it wasn't enough.
"It's interesting that Xin was captured. But rescuing her from Tilted Station would be too costly."
"Ayla, when you destroy the tachyon communicator, try to locate her. If you can't, then let it be."
As for the remaining 6 million soldiers on Tilted Station, they would have to remain there.
Luna couldn't rescue them; saving six million could cost six billion lives, a rescue that still couldn't be assured.
A harsh reality.
But the universe isn't kind.
In this grand game of interstellar strategy, even Luna couldn't guarantee victory, let alone ensure others' survival.
This sobering thought ended their discussion.
Once fully recovered, Luna would begin another hibernation cycle.
Her next awakening would be after ten thousand years.
A new Galactic Federation would await.
Or perhaps not so new. Ayla had warned her of the high cost of maintaining the upper hand, with 90% of their fleet destroyed.
More problems were certain to arise.
Luna dismissed these concerns, instead choosing to sleep.
...
500 years after Luna's departure, Ayla contacted Tilted Station.
This time, she promoted the Federation's social model and advocated for Chu's reinstatement.
Linking the Federation and Chu seemed foolish; Chu wanted to destroy the Federation.
But Ayla's subsequent actions were unsettling; she portrayed Chu as a peacemaker, the Olive Branch's third great leader, elevating his status.
This forced the leaders of the five factions to reconsider—was Chu behind this?
Perhaps Chu knew about the Federation's simulated space along the Silk Road; his attacks were merely a pretense, part of a conspiracy with Luna.
But how would this benefit Chu?
This was a crucial question.
And Ayla offered an answer—Chu's ambition to become the third great leader.
Chu would use the Federation to destroy and then rebuild Tilted Station, earning the shared consciousness's approval.
Realizing this, the Olive Branch beings were enraged, unwilling to release Chu.
The infighting continued, intensifying.
The factions battled relentlessly.
Tilted Station, divided, each faction controlling less mass, their gravitational potential energy decreased significantly.
Tilted Station's energy output had been steadily declining since its fragmentation, giving Ayla an opening.
During a battle, Ayla deployed some of the 6 million Federation soldiers under her control, ostensibly as a rescue mission.
This was quickly discovered; the soldiers were captured and killed. The station's leader then diverted more forces to guard the prison.
The opposing faction, however, seized this opportunity to launch an attack, gaining ground.
Ayla, seeing her opportunity, launched a black hole bomb at the enemy station.
The Purple Thorns had used this weapon, but the Federation hadn't; its low efficiency limited its effectiveness.
The black holes they could create were relatively small and short-lived. As demonstrated earlier, against Tilted Station, Ayla’s drones using mini black holes had only been able to take down three Olive Branch warships with the added benefit of being used as a diversion tactic.
Therefore, the Federation now primarily used black hole bombs for precise strikes. This also disrupted Tachyon transmissions.
This diversion tactic, used by both sides during their conflict, caused both significant damage and delayed their techonological developments.
The five Tilted Station factions were furious.
Both warring factions called a truce due to this. Ayla's attack triggered an unexpected peace between the five factions.
Ayla, exploiting this opportunity, released control of the six million soldiers, deploying their nanobots to free Chu from his high-security gravitational prison.
...
The gravity prison was like a fiery hell.
Chu had designed Luna's cell; while the gravity was intense, the environment was otherwise suitable for a human.
His own cell, however, lacked such amenities. He had been imprisoned here for a long time.
Olive Branch beings didn't perceive time; as machine lifeforms, they needed external devices for timekeeping.
Outside, Chu simply accessed Tilted Station's internal network.
But here, he was disconnected.
Machine lifeforms didn't sleep. Chu, eternally awake, had become an opportunist, waiting for a chance to escape.
He knew this was foolish, but it was his only option.
Then, the unexpected happened.
Mechanical devices merged with his body, providing anti-gravity.
Without hesitation, Chu harnessed this power to escape.
He was tired of this stifling darkness.
But the moment he escaped, alarms blared. Previously ignored, lacking any power, his presence barely warranted such attention. But with the announcement of the escape plan, the additional warnings attached to Chu seemed reasonable and weren't immediately questioned.
This, of course, wasn't accidental.
Ayla wanted the shared consciousness to know about Chu's escape, preventing him from remaining hidden within Tilted Station, forcing him to rely on the Federation.
Her actions were all part of a single plan—to turn Tilted Station's internal conflict into a full-blown civil war.
Everything was Chu's doing; the Federation was merely reacting.
This way, when the other station leaders or the first and second Olive Branch great leaders intervened, they wouldn't target the Federation.
When Chu felt the nanobots guiding him towards a small square box, he understood.
Who would rescue him?
Certainly, not anyone from the shared consciousness.
That only left Luna or perhaps the Federation.
After escaping, he'd become a shield for the Federation.
But he had no choice.
Staying meant certain death.
Luna's understanding of Tilted Station's autonomy was incomplete, but Chu understood.
The other stations only intervened if a station was overwhelmed by external forces; not in internal disputes. In fact, many leaders welcomed and even studied internal conflict for its disruptive potential.
Luna hadn't considered that the Olive Branch population during their transition from biological to mechanical wasn't particularly large—only a few billion.
Now, a single station contained quadrillions of beings.
These beings weren't born; they were created.
The Olive Branch didn't mourn individual deaths; losses were simply replaced.
The Federation's morality, empathy, and even anger were foreign concepts to the Olive Branch.
No other station leader would rescue Chu. They would only act during times of external threat, intervening solely for observation or manipulation to the benefit of themselves, not Chu.
They awaited the conflict's resolution and a new great leader. This new great leader might transcend the leader's role and unify the Olive Branch.
Chu entered the box.
"It seems I've reached a dead end."
...
Ten thousand years had passed since Luna left the Federation. Their warships had reached a maximum speed of 27,584 km/s.
Progress had been slow; their primary energy source remained stellar fusion, placing them at a significant disadvantage against the Olive Branch civilization.
Stable, suitably sized stars were rare; generating more power required larger stars—giant stars, supergiants, even neutron stars.
These stars were dangerous, prone to collapse into black holes.
Energy limitations constrained the Federation's technological advancement, especially propulsion technology.
They could now accelerate smaller ships to 90% the speed of light, but these ships were unsuitable for combat.
Larger ships, carrying more energy, were the key to victory in interstellar warfare.
Within the SC-29 system on the Silk Road, Luna saw her new flagship—the Kunlun.
The Celestial Palace, initially spared during Luna's escape, was later captured and dismantled by Tilted Station for research.
Having become enemies, there was no need to leave any resources intact.
Even if it had been operational, Luna wasn't sentimental about the Celestial Palace; it had fulfilled its mission.
A small fairy-like Ayla hovered over Luna's head.
"The Kunlun incorporates all the Federation's latest technological advancements."
"It was first designed and tested within the Simulated Universe for 680 years."
"This is a planet-class warship—800,356 meters long, 258,565 meters high, 298,753 meters wide, with a total mass of 7.8 trillion tons."
"It represents a major milestone for the Federation."
At 800 kilometers, nearing the upper limit for dwarf planet size, calling the Kunlun a planet-class warship wasn't an exaggeration.
This was a bold undertaking. Federation warships hadn't even reached 100,000 meters, yet they were now constructing near million-meter class vessels.
But this wasn't a waste of resources; it was necessary.
Planet-class warships were crucial, particularly when confronting entities like the Olive Branch civilization. Smaller ships had limited energy reserves and firepower. Tens of thousands of them would be easily overwhelmed by even a few hundred Olive Branch warships. Larger ships with massive power generation capability were required for sustained conflicts.
And compared to advancing to a significantly higher technology, simply building bigger ships was more straightforward and feasible for the current Federation.
Technological leaps were difficult; they couldn't gamble the civilization's future on such low probability.
The Olive Branch had adopted a similar approach, the nature of their mega-station a key factor. It was, in fact, a colossal warship, just that they hadn't needed it against civilizations like the Federation or Filament.
If the Olive Branch faced a more formidable opponent, Tilted Station's true power would be unleashed. This was the Kunlun's purpose as well—gaining experience in constructing planet-sized warships for use against stronger civilizations.
"The Kunlun can store 1 x 10³⁵ joules of energy, thanks to advancements in energy storage technology," Ayla continued.
"Traditional methods involve batteries, pumped hydro, and thermal or compressed air energy storage. We've been searching for more efficient methods to store more energy in less space."
"We've developed what's known as 'fat atom' energy storage, which was first implemented in a simulated universe to pack 755 electrons within a single hydrogen atom, maintaining 100 years of stability through the strong force and gravity manipulation.
"I supported the research of this tech, and after 1800 years of development, it has become practical. By using minimal strong force and gravity to bind the maximum number of electrons within an atom, we're currently packing over 6585 electrons within a hydrogen atom, with 14000 years of stability."
Luna was speechless.
The energy released from fission or fusion involving just a few electrons is colossal.
If these "fat atoms" were destabilized, Luna couldn't fathom the scale of the resulting explosion.
"What's the energy leakage rate?" This was crucial.
"6.59%."
Essentially, 93.41 units of energy would be available after storing 100.
Exceptionally efficient.
Advanced energy storage meant greater energy reserves for more advanced weapons and defense systems.
"How fast can it go?" Luna asked.
Ayla hesitated.
"24,858 km/s, maximum," she answered, still hesitant.
Not slow.
"However, reaching that speed requires depleting 100% of the ship's energy reserves," Ayla added quietly.
"..."
This was the problem with scale.
"If we add energy generation systems—what is the total power output and how long does it take to replenish?" Luna pressed on.
Ayla seemed despondent. Why focus on weaknesses rather than celebrating their achievements?
"Power output is 6.08 x 10²⁵ watts. Recharge time is 52.1 years."
Not that slow, considering it generated almost 20% of the Sun's output—far faster than Luna anticipated.
Ayla, anticipating Luna's thoughts, explained, "Two-fifths of the Kunlun's mass is dedicated to energy generation; another two-fifths to energy storage. The remaining fifth is for propulsion, the main server, weapons systems, crew quarters, and cargo bays."
Luna's jaw dropped. This massive warship was essentially a giant power plant and battery?
"It's a first-generation model! Be patient!"
Luna was, however, quite pleased.
Her ship reached the Kunlun. Looking at the colossal vessel—dark grey, resembling a "+" from the front and a long, thin, inverted triangle from the side (essentially a massive screw)—it wasn't aesthetically pleasing at smaller scales, but its sheer size was impressive. It dwarfed a nearby planet, appearing as large as the planet from their position.
A recessed, claw-shaped structure, eight kilometers long and 1.3 kilometers wide, was visible on its surface. Luna's ship approached, entering the area's dense, opaque atmosphere.
Beyond the clouds was a small city on the warship's hull—complete with mountains, rivers, forests, skyscrapers, and residential areas.
"Welcome aboard, Captain!" Ayla greeted her.
"The Kunlun's interior is somewhat limited, but its exterior is vast. Your first stop is the crew's recreational area."
Size, after all, had its advantages.
Luna disembarked onto a lake—the landing area. Space was limited; there were no dedicated landing pads.
The lake was deep (20–30 meters) and the water remarkably clear, with 5–6 meters of visibility.
Standing on the surface, Luna felt buoyant, yet strangely connected to the water; the ripples caused her body to rise and fall.
"There's a layer of air on the water's surface, created through electrolysis and compressed using an electromagnetic field, creating a thin film. You're standing on this film."
"There should be many similar technologies within the Federation. We could incentivize their development through competitions, encouraging companies to utilize and commercialize them."
"What might seem useless now might be valuable in the future."
"Technological advancements are incremental. A seemingly minor technology could revolutionize another field."
Luna issued her instructions; Ayla obeyed.
"Yes!"
"But shouldn't inventions have some criteria?" Incentivizing pointless inventions would only attract useless projects.
"Establish a review panel," Luna stated.
"We can categorize these ideas."
"Each category will receive different levels of support; even the most trivial ideas will be acknowledged, with everything recorded in the archives."
"These archives must be publicly accessible. All non-military and non-sensitive scientific data within the Federation should be transparent."
Increased access empowers citizens, fosters innovation, and combats the allure of excessive entertainment.
Luna toured the city on the Kunlun's hull; it was a tranquil place, an escape from pressure. Then, she took an elevator into the ship's interior.
It was cramped; the corridors, only six meters high, just enough headroom for a Warbeast.
Luna saw Warbeasts and Lightwings among the soldiers; together, they resembled a scene of angels and demons.
"Warbeasts have incredibly potent motor control genes, further enhanced through optimization," Ayla explained, discussing the changes within the Federation.
They'd already covered everything in detail.
They entered a bay, and Luna saw a life-sized model of her favorite machine.
A Gundam.
"Before the arrival of the Warbeasts, this type of machine wasn't practical within the Federation."
"Neither humans nor any other species would be capable of operating them without significant genetic modifications."
"The Warbeasts have a natural aptitude for this. Their two brains can function independently and in unison, making large-scale mechs viable."
Giant mechs weren't practical; their role in space combat was limited. They lacked the agility, speed, firepower, and defensive capabilities of warships. They were, however, visually impressive.
"Ground combat is tactically demanding; are the Warbeasts intelligent enough?" Luna asked.
She had previously discussed giant mechs with Ayla; their primary use was for planetary assaults or boarding actions when the enemy's large-scale weapons are unavailable.
"Warbeasts aren't unintelligent brutes,"
Ayla replied, correcting Luna.
"Most of the Federation's strategists are Warbeasts."
Ayla corrected Luna's stereotypical view.
Ideally, these giant mechs would be controlled by AIs. The Federation's robotics technology was advanced, with countless independent AIs, Ayla's dominance maintained only by her superior processing power and the 270,000 restrictions imposed on other AIs.
However, practicality dictated the use of Warbeast pilots; advanced AI servers were too expensive.
"The Kunlun carries 15,000 giant mechs for deployment and internal defense."
"These are all equipped with the latest liquid metal armor and specialized internal components."
The mechs were for internal defense as well, in case enemies boarded the ship.
Luna observed these giant mechs; they resembled enlarged Transformers more than Gundams, designed ergonomically, without sharp angles, their bodies primarily teardrop-shaped.
Each mech was 284 meters tall.
Apart from the Gundams, there were few new technologies, only incremental improvements to existing ones. Tried and tested technology was the most reliable, but this meant the Kunlun wasn't pushing the boundaries of science. It was a practical warship.
After a two-month wait, the Kunlun finally departed from SC-29.
As Ayla explained, accelerating to top speed depleted the Kunlun's energy reserves; it could only sustain 10g of acceleration—incredibly slow for a Type 2 civilization, seeming as if they were practically at a standstill.
It took roughly 70.5 hours to reach its maximum velocity.
SC-29's gravitational influence extended to 0.16 light-years; the Kunlun, starting from the surface, left the star system within 1.5 years.
But the Federation was still far away.
Luna had fully recovered. Repeated gene therapy had increased her size again—height: 1.91 meters; weight: 122 kg.
But she was still small compared to the average size in the Federation, and others as well.
Even among humans aboard the Kunlun, the average height was 2.06 meters. The tallest unmodified human was recorded at 3.61 meters—not a medical condition but simply normal growth.
Luna, having recovered, entered hibernation again. She'd decided to create and explore a personal "school-days" simulation in her vast simulated universe within the Kunlun.
After another multi-millennial journey, the massive, gray warship was close to the Federation, completing its voyage. Its next stop was Shaka, an icy world unfamiliar to Luna, at the very edge of Federation space.