Thus, the United Civilization Collective's combat forces continued to retain small starships, pilots for small warships, and landing troops, despite the enormous losses these rank-and-file forces suffered in wars against outsiders and in suppressing rebellions.
Yet such losses seemed insignificant within carbon-based civilizations. They reproduced prolifically, some producing an entire litter at a time.
Civilizations promoted honor and collectivism, repeatedly emphasizing the significance of the individual, along with the greater material rewards that came with promotion to officer rank.
Within the Collective, each person's material allotment was calculated according to their civilization's contribution. The greater that contribution, the more resources the civilization could claim.
But this translated into a fixed figure per person, and the larger a civilization's population, the smaller each individual's share.
Who wouldn't want to rise above the rest and gain more privileges? Even if they could spend their entire lives on a planet without worrying about food, clothing, or drink, what did that amount to against their long individual lifespans?
And survivorship bias led living beings to overlook the dead, because the dead could no longer stand up and make their voices heard.
It was like how someone around you would always say, "Look at old Mr. Wang next door. He smoked and drank like a pro, and didn't he still live to eighty?"
Yet those lying in the morgue who had died from smoking and drinking could never stand up again to speak for themselves, broaden your perspective, and show you the world's ruthless reality.
What you overlooked was inevitably the most fatal thing of all.
Two civilizations faced off in space, and on the United Civilization Collective's side, Zero Seven, the Pioneer Civilization's battle overseer, led the command.
A dimensional space served as Zero Seven's dwelling. Beyond its spatial walls, his spherical body radiated