Is Unlocking the Stellaris Tech Tree in Star Rail Really Okay? [265]

Noon.

On the 80th floor of the Belobog Grand Hotel, nearly the entire level functioned as an office space for Topaz and her team. That morning, she had sat through a series of briefings from employees stationed across Jarilo-VI, rubbing her temples as she listened. After dismissing the meeting, she called in two key personnel responsible for inspecting factories and farms near Belobog for a smaller, more focused discussion.

The meeting revolved around finding the balance between Jarilo’s productivity and welfare—a crucial step in uncovering the true reason behind the Empire’s unshakable confidence.

Most of them already understood the primary objective: Topaz had been tasked—practically forced—to lead the negotiations between the IPC and the Empire. If she handled it well, she’d get to feast on the rewards, and her subordinates would at least get to sip the leftover soup.

Unfortunately, since their last meeting, Qlipoth Fort had gone completely silent. It was as if they had been forgotten. No matter how many invitations they sent requesting a formal discussion, the responses were always polite rejections.

Still, a rejection was a rejection—there was no hostility. Given that the IPC wasn’t in a strong negotiating position, they had to demonstrate sincerity if they wanted a deal. That was why, every few days, Topaz made sure to have her people reach out again, either requesting minor privileges or just making their presence known.

The unspoken message behind her persistence was simple: We’re still here. Let us know when you’re ready to talk business.

Halfway through the meeting, a trusted employee’s terminal beeped twice. After checking the message, he suddenly spoke up. “The survey results for Sterbe-I and Rilu-I are in. If the Empire remains indifferent, boss, should we move ahead with operations there?”

Sterbe-I and Rilu-I weren’t just any random planets—they were two primitive civilizations located near the Jarilo star region.

Sterbe-I was a prairie world, with vast grasslands covering 75% of its landmass. Its inhabitants primarily lived as nomadic herders. By the IPC’s classification system, its civilization level was estimated at 0.4, having developed a rudimentary grasp of electrical technology.

The IPC categorized civilizations into tiers:

• Level 1 meant a civilization had just begun developing spaceflight.

• Level 1.5 indicated long-range space travel and early interstellar exploration capabilities.

• Level 2 and above was where most well-known spacefaring civilizations ranked.

Historical records suggested that even before the Empire took over, Jarilo-VI barely scraped by as a 0.6-level civilization—which underscored just how primitive a 0.4 civilization really was.

The IPC had historical data on Sterbe-I. It had once been a world teeming with biodiversity, its land covered in dense tropical rainforests. Even when the IPC last withdrew from the region, the planet had remained lush. Yet, in under 700 years, its entire ecosystem had transformed dramatically. What the hell had happened?

Compared to Sterbe-I, Rilu-I was in even worse shape. Over 90% of its landmass was locked in permanent ice, while the remaining regions were plagued by bizarre, extreme weather patterns of unknown origin.

Back when the IPC first set up a trade network between Jarilo and Sterbe, Rilu-I had been deemed worthless—lacking both mineral wealth and a substantial population. Proposals to terraform it were shelved indefinitely. And when the Stellaron struck Jarilo and forced the IPC to fully withdraw, Rilu-I remained utterly unaware that its neighbor had already entered the interstellar economy.

Historical records hinted that Rilu-I may have once possessed spaceflight, but its internal factions had spent far too long locked in conflict. The planet was torn apart by never-ending wars, with extensive use of nuclear and radiation-based weapons. Over five centuries of total war had completely wiped out its previous civilization. What remained was a society rebuilt atop the ashes of a dead world, its technology regressed to an archaeological scavenger state—barely scraping by at Level 0.2, still trapped in the era of cold steel.

Topaz skimmed the report before shifting her gaze to the employee who had spoken. “Headquarters should have issued guidance on this… I didn’t have time to attend last night’s meeting, and I haven’t reviewed the report. What’s their stance on Rilu-I?”

“The supervisors concluded that, aside from labor, Rilu-I has no development value. The environment is too harsh—terraforming has less than a 25% chance of success. The planet is resource-poor, and the return on investment would be abysmal. If development were to proceed, they recommend relocating the population elsewhere.”

The employee hesitated before adding, “The other directors agree.”

“Then they likely still won’t budge.” Topaz sighed. “When I took over this project, I personally reached out to Rilu-I’s Family Council. We’ve made so many concessions, yet they still haven’t responded. We can’t rush things with the Empire, and if Rilu-I refuses to cooperate, that means Sterbe-I is our only viable option right now.”

If possible, she wanted Rilu-I to join the IPC’s economic system. The planet had already been devastated by war—if not for its chaotic climate accelerating ecological recovery and its low population slowing environmental degradation, its current state would likely be even worse.

Topaz had offered Rilu-I a deal:

• The IPC would clear out some of the planet’s frozen wastelands, expanding habitable land.

• They would provide industrial technology and resources to jumpstart economic growth.

• In exchange, Rilu-I would be fully integrated into the credit system.

• The planet would become a dedicated food supplier, with the IPC controlling export prices.

• Every Rilu-Ian would be required to work for the IPC upon reaching a certain age.

• The IPC would cover housing and meals but wouldn’t provide direct wages—instead, workers would accrue work points.

• After serving for a set period, they could return to Rilu-I and join large-scale agricultural production.

• Only after 16,000 years of repaying their “investment loan” would Rilu-I gain full autonomy.

Technically, the IPC did allow them to exchange work points for credits, but the catch was that the total redeemable amount couldn’t exceed 15% of the IPC’s profit margin from Rilu-I.

If the IPC made no profit, the entire economic burden of the investment would be shifted onto Rilu-I. All accumulated work points would be forfeited to cover debt repayment.

Naturally, the Family Council and their Patriarch had outright rejected her proposal.

With Rilu-I off the table and Sterbe-I barely holding on, the situation was dire. The Sterbeans, upon discovering that they had suddenly inherited the debts of their ancestors, were furious. But since they lacked the strength to resist IPC debt collectors, the company’s surveyors had moved through the planet completely unopposed, freely assessing everything of value hidden beneath the surface.

Sensing his moment to shine, the lead investigator for Sterbe-I stepped forward, putting on an apologetic expression.

“Boss, I might have acted a bit on my own these past few days…”

Topaz looked up, frowning slightly. “What did you do?”

“Our team discovered a previously unknown gas deep beneath Sterbe-I’s surface—similar in composition to natural gas. After sending samples to R&D, they’re now in an absolute frenzy—turns out this gas has immense potential for energy and barrier technology.

“A single uncompressed cubic meter of it can sustain a high-powered force field for three years—without any special processing! For comparison, our current energy cubes, after decades of improvements, barely last 15 hours under continuous use.”

Seeing Topaz deep in thought, the employee quickly continued, “So I may have offered the Sterbeans a deal—1 compressed cubic meter of high-purity gas in exchange for 500 credits—enough to cut their debt nearly in half.”

Topaz sighed. “You handled it fine, but you lowballed the price too much. Offer them 7,000 credits per cubic meter—uncompressed.”

The employee looked displeased—sure, there were plenty of ways to make money, but opportunities to make this much were rare. If he could squeeze profits even further, headquarters might reward him with equity shares—hell, he might even get promoted.

“Boss, isn’t that too generous? They don’t even know what this stuff does—giving them so much money for nothing feels wasteful…”

“…Wasteful?”

Topaz’s gaze darkened.

“After Sterbe pays off their debt with gas, how much mineral wealth do they have left?”

“…All confirmed but yet-to-be-extracted deposits. And technically, this land used to be ours anyway.”

Topaz’s expression didn’t change. “And once their debt is cleared… how do they survive?”

“…That’s not my problem.”

“Oh?”

“……”

Seeing the employee lower his head in silence, Topaz sighed. “Don’t just think about your own survival—leave a path for others, too… Did your team get into a conflict with the locals on Sterbe? The morning report listed thirty-seven damaged power armors and four mechs—two of which are completely totaled?”

“There was a bit of friction…”

“How much is ‘a bit’? What about casualties?”

The employee pursed his lips, his gaze flickering. “…Three dead, eleven severely injured, and the rest suffered minor wounds…”

BANG!

Topaz slammed her desk in fury, her heavy wooden desk partially caving in under the force. “I wasn’t asking about our casualties!”

The room fell into a dead silence for several seconds before the employee hesitantly muttered, “Around… two thousand? Maybe more?”

Then, as if justifying himself, he pouted and added, “They tried to stop our survey teams from conducting land evaluations and resource assessments! They brought this on themselves. Sugilite has always said we don’t need to care about what happens to these primitives—if they can’t survive, they’ll come crawling back to beg us for food eventually. Spoiling them will only make them more arrogant—”

Haaah…

Topaz took two deep breaths, trying to keep her rage in check. I should’ve known better than to bring in people who’ve worked under Sugilite for too long.

Sugilite was another director in the Strategic Investment Department, notorious for his scorched-earth tactics—milking every resource dry until nothing was left. He only saw numbers—nothing else. Of all the people in the IPC, he was the last person she wanted to work with.

“I don’t care how Sugilite trained you—this is my jurisdiction. Everything here follows my rules. Did you all forget that your own homeworlds only recovered because of IPC investments?”

Topaz directed a sharp glare at the employee, then took a sip of her drink before continuing, “Your salary and future dividends will be deducted to cover all losses. 25-year installment plan. If you have a problem with it, take it up with the higher-ups.”

“Also—get your ten teams under control. Meeting adjourned.”

One employee smirked as he watched the scene unfold, while the other left crestfallen. Topaz massaged her temples, feeling an incoming headache as she glanced at the report in her hands.

Her extensive investigations into the Empire’s economic operations had led to a serious realization—the Empire’s factories were heavily focused on metal production. But given the nation’s relatively stable state, it didn’t need that much metal for domestic maintenance alone.

Yet, the Empire never exported its metal goods.

Based on production figures, it was obvious that something was consuming an immense amount of metal—and aside from urban development and infrastructure, that left only one possibility.

Military expansion.

She had already reviewed the starmaps. Both Rilu-I and Sterbe-I were completely surrounded by the Empire’s territory. If the IPC didn’t intervene, it was only a matter of time before those two habitable worlds became part of the Empire’s backyard.

The only reason the Empire hadn’t acted yet was likely because it had no justification—and because the IPC had already set up operations there, attempting to establish trade. Perhaps the Empire was even giving them a courtesy window to see if they could negotiate something worthwhile.

She had repeatedly warned her people not to provoke unnecessary conflicts with the locals. The last thing she wanted was for the Empire to use that as an excuse to step in and compete with them.

If the Empire had been any other civilization, the IPC’s commercial dominance wouldn’t have been shaken.

But these past weeks of investigations had revealed a horrifying truth—

The IPC couldn’t compete with the Empire in resource extraction.

This was a civilization that mined into thin air and pulled minerals out of nowhere.

Their costs were so absurdly low that Topaz didn’t even dare to think too deeply about it. She feared that the more she analyzed it, the more she’d realize the IPC’s economic weapons—price wars, supply chain control—would all be utterly useless.

And yet, she couldn’t say this out loud.

If she did, she would only face more roadblocks in her work. The best she could do was hope her subordinates figured it out on their own.

Propping her head up with one hand, she sighed.

“Idiots…”

She was this close to outright calling them a bunch of pig teammates.

Knock, knock, knock.

A rhythmic knock echoed through the room.

Thinking it was yet another problem, Topaz swallowed back the curses in her head, quickly adjusting her expression before calling out, “Come in.”

The door swung open.

The first thing she saw was a pair of long, slender legs stepping lightly over the threshold, followed by the soft chime of silver bell-like laughter.

Then, Topaz froze.

The moment she recognized the person standing before her, it was as if a thunderclap exploded in her ears. Her mind went blank.

Her body reacted instinctively—stumbling backward, heart pounding in panic.

By the time she snapped out of it, she had already backed into the wall, looking as if she had just seen a ghost.

“Heehee~ Director Topaz, it’s been so long since we last met… Oh my? You’re being so polite, even standing up to greet me?”

The woman giggled, her voice honeyed and playful.

“I hope I’m not disturbing your work?” She tilted her head in feigned innocence. “On my way up, I saw one of your subordinates leaving with quite a gloomy face… Oh my~ Could it be heartbreak? Did they get dumped~?”

—

T/N: don’t worry you will still get your extra chapters! i owe uhhh 35 chapters!

This is a fan translation of 在星穹铁道点群星科技树真的没问题吗? by 杏雨诗韵 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!