“Because you’re naive. You’re so blinded by your precious Polarians and their supposed kindness, you don’t see the truth. They’ve kept a lot of things for themselves—information, tools, tech.”
He leans forward slightly, sneering.
“Did you know they have some kind of universal translators? Oh yeah. They keep them for themselves.”
I flinch.
He’s not wrong. Prax did have one.
“And the Coalition? The ones opposing the Confederation? Yeah, they managed to create a few implants too—but way more basic. They only support six languages, as far as I know. But us? What did we get when we landed on Mars? Nothing. The glorious Confederation just dumped us here and said, ‘Good luck!’”
He smirks.
“But my friend Bully promised to give us their real translation implants… soon.”
I stay silent, but my thoughts are racing.
I remember what I read in the documents.
The Confederation has a strict policy of non-interference. A technologically advanced civilization is supposed to respect the autonomy of developing societies. They believe offering too much too soon can destabilize cultures and create dependency—or worse, open the door to a new kind of imperialism, where help is just control in disguise.
So yes, the Polarians held back.
But even so, they did intervene. When Earth was dying, they stepped in. They rescued animal species compatible with Martian life. And in the end, they allowed a few thousand humans to join a colony here, on this red world.
They left just enough tech to survive.
But no more than that.
So it’s all a matter of perspective.
Should they have given us full access to all their knowledge?
That’s clearly what Do-yun thinks. Even Prax—though more measured—often said the restrictions were way too harsh, stricter than necessary.
“And besides,” Do-yun goes on, “communication and data access aren’t the same across the board! You see, the Confederation has access to everything—all the tech andinformation in the galaxy. But us? Us Martian colonists? We only got what the Earth archives allowed—and even that was scrubbed clean of anything remotely dangerous. No weapon schematics. I looked. No designs from our ancestors that might ‘endanger’ the colony. Even the coordinates of Earth’s resource deposits have been wiped. That’s why Bully can’t find this stuff on his own. But we can dig into old history books, or vintage Earth movies, and piece things together. Personally, I’m a huge fan of human cinema—documentaries, especially. Take Blood Diamond, about the mines in Sierra Leone. Rhodium, by the way, is another resource our friends are very interested in. The Confederation deleted all the old geological maps.”
I listen in stunned silence.
I mean… it never occurred to me to go looking for bomb recipes or weapon blueprints. But I didn’t know the Polarians had actually filtered our databases before giving us access to them. Still, Do-yun isn’t done.
He’s clearly on a roll, and trying hard to convince me.
“And the members of the Coalition? They were cut off too. Even they don’t know where the other inhabited worlds are—unless they stumble across one by sheer luck, like Bully did when he passed through our solar system. Total accident.”
Great. Lucky us. Honestly, I kind of wish he’d wandered into the next system over instead.
And if you ask me? It’s actually comforting to know that this band of smugglers and shady dealersdoesn’thave a complete catalog of planets to loot.
The manager of Arabia Terra looks disappointed that I’m not buying into his grand pitch. A muscle twitches in his jaw—a tiny giveaway of the irritation bubbling underneath.
He shifts tactics.
“You know, your fate isn’t sealed. It’s not too late for you to join us. Like I said, I have plans for you. You seem smart and resourceful. And as a doctor, you'd be a real asset to the community. By joining us, you’d enjoy certain privileges. You don’t have to feel guilty about that—it’s been that way since the dawn of time. Equality is just a pretty myth. No one’s born with the same physical, intellectual, or emotional tools. It’s up to each person to make the most of what they’ve got and improve their life. Forget the Confederation’s nonsense—no one cares anymore. Seize the opportunity. Help us put Humans back on top of the food chain! We’re not like the other animals. We’re superior. So—what do you say? Are you with us, or against us?”
His smooth tone doesn’t fool me.
I mean—I’m in a cube. He’s in a chair. And he’s pontificating like a spoiled kid upset that someone else has more toys.
