Chapter 536: A Clean Sweep! Containment Field! Intriguing Information!
The moment the Astartes warriors clad in Mark X powered armor entered, they swiftly poured into the seed ship, moving through its corridors with precision to secure every passage.
Among them, of course, was their leader, Jim Raynor.
His mission was to capture every commanding unit aboard this ship and uncover all possible intelligence related to the Singer Civilization.
By now, the Singers had clearly realized that these uninvited guests weren't here to destroy the vessel—they were here to seize and occupy it.
That realization filled the Singer with dread. Allowing low-entropy lifeforms to even approach was already an unforgivable dereliction of duty—letting them take control was a crime beyond redemption.
The janitors' creed was simple: hide well and clean thoroughly.
Those eight words defined their very existence. Yet now, the Singer had failed on both counts. Whether or not it could repel the invaders no longer mattered—it had already committed an unpardonable sin.
If the Elders ever found out, not even grinding its bones to dust would be enough to atone.
Panicking, the Singer scrambled to issue a "purge intruders" command to the ship's main core. But since that protocol hadn't been used in centuries, it took time just to find the correct input interface.
Meanwhile, Jim Raynor and his squad had already reached the core of the seed ship. The interior design felt oppressively alien—vast arrays of metallic machinery that seemed disturbingly alive.
They pulsed and twitched with slow, muscular movements, as if they were breathing.
Peeling away a section of the machinery, Raynor saw cables resembling fleshy-metal tendrils—half biological, half mechanical, disturbingly organic in their slow undulation.
"This is messed up," Raynor muttered, frowning deeply.
He ordered his men to pry open more structures. Beneath the corroded plating, grotesque constructs squirmed like living slugs, oozing foul gases and viscous fluids as they writhed.
These devices defied classification as either organic or inorganic matter. The level of biomechanical fusion displayed here was on par with that of the Universal Megacorp.
However, unlike the Corporation's elegant integration, the Singer Civilization's version was crude and brutal, fusing flesh and metal with sacrilegious disregard for form or grace—an abomination against creation itself.
As the squad advanced deeper into the corridor, the walls around them were covered in metallic reliefs. At first glance, they appeared to be sculptures—but closer inspection revealed subtle, living motion beneath the surface.
Raynor couldn't tell what kind of creatures these carvings depicted. They seemed like grotesque amalgamations of countless species—a chaotic graffiti of hybrid life.
It was clear now: the Singer Civilization had forsaken the divine gift of life in three-dimensional space.
This wasn't mere genetic modification or cybernetic augmentation—it was a total rejection of flesh and soul alike.
Such self-diminishment was a direct insult to the Creator's design, a desecration of existence itself. The Singers had carved away their mortal flesh, leaving behind only cold, skeletal remains.
They would stand before the graves of three-dimensional civilizations and sing their eerie hymns of victory, flaunting their ghostlike new forms as proof that they were the true conquerors of this cosmic calamity.
In that moment, the Singer Civilization's image became fully realized—
the reapers and plagues of countless lesser civilizations, wielding two-dimensional foils and photon scythes to harvest the towering trees of the dark forest.
They felt no guilt, no fear—
for in this universe, there was never a shortage of life to slaughter and replace.
Tensing his muscles, Jim Raynor pressed onward with his team toward the ship's depths. Since the Red Queen AI virus couldn't operate here, they had to rely entirely on sophon intelligence for reconnaissance.
With the sophons guiding them, the boarding operation went much more smoothly.
Just as V had predicted, the Singers were utterly helpless before the towering Astartes warriors.
Once the boarding and capture were complete, nothing could stop the Universal Megacorp's operation.
Although the ship's outer hull suffered minor damage, the overall structure remained intact.
Most importantly, the seed ship's main core was completely preserved. Both the vessel and every device and entity within had now become the Megacorp's spoils of war.
Before long, more personnel from the Hyperion arrived to assist in securing the ship—engineers, AI drones, and robots worked together to stabilize damaged sections to ensure the vessel wouldn't break apart during transport.
The internal defense systems had been fully subdued. The battle was over.
The next phase was to bring the ship back to the Solar System for detailed research and data extraction.
When news of victory reached the War Moon headquarters, the Universal Megacorp's executives finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"It's finally over," Luo Ji exhaled, his body loosening after hours of tension. Watching the Endless Night chased by the two-dimensional foil had left him on edge, fearing total annihilation of the fleet.
Thankfully, it was all over now. The only thing left was to await the results.
As always, Li Ang remained silent. Whether they could proceed with their next strategic phase depended entirely on how much information they could extract from the captured seed ship.
To him, the so-called technologies like two-dimensional foils or photon-based weapons were of little interest—the Megacorp already possessed similar systems. What truly mattered was information.
Particularly intelligence about the Singer Civilization's current state—and about the mysterious "Edge Civilizations."
That was the true prize.
Under Jim Raynor's command, the seed ship was soon fully repaired. Driven forward by countless AI drones, it began to drift toward the dark matter wormhole.
The only unfortunate point was that the Singer who controlled the ship was now dead. Raynor couldn't tell if it was truly dead or just in some sort of suspended state, so he had it secured for study back home.
The main concern was whether the ship might self-destruct without its operator.
The Universal Megacorp had invested immense effort and resources to intercept it—no one wanted to see everything lost at the final moment.
So Raynor personally supervised the retrieval, while engineers and researchers cataloged, duplicated, and packed every piece of equipment and data they could find.
Fortunately, the worst-case scenario never occurred. Under his constant monitoring, the main core remained completely stable.
That made sense.
To the Singer Civilization, this ship was merely one of countless "janitors"—a disposable cleaning tool. There was no need for a self-destruct mechanism.
Still, the team didn't rule out other possibilities. They'd need to confirm everything once they returned to the Solar System.
Five days later—
The Hyperion towed the Singer Civilization's seed ship through the dark matter wormhole, returning triumphantly to the Solar System—
a resounding victory for humanity.
The Asian Fleet of the International Armada had already formed ranks near Pluto, waiting to greet their return.
They had originally prepared to depart and reinforce the assault fleet, but before they could even mobilize, the battle had already been won.
There was no helping it—those stellar-class battleships could only be temporarily rearranged into a parade formation, lining up in a straight row on both sides to leave the central area open. They then fired paint shells to symbolize the triumphant return of the corporate armada.
When the Hyperion and the other giant Megacorp warships emerged from the dark matter wormhole, the crews of the Asian Fleet all rose to their feet and saluted in respect.
But Jim Raynor, the victorious commander, didn't have much time to celebrate. The moment he returned, he immediately had the seed ship transported back to the Moon of War.
To the personnel of the Science Nexus Division, it was a treasure beyond price. They immediately began a series of studies on the Singer civilization's vessel.
Standing at the head of the welcoming line, V clapped Raynor on the shoulder and said with genuine satisfaction, "Good work, Jim. You fought well this time."
"That's thanks to the Missionaries—they were sharp enough. Without them, we wouldn't have pulled off the flanking maneuver so easily."
Raynor smiled faintly. True warriors rarely boast of great merit; it was tacticians like the the preacher—true masters of interstellar strategy—who handled the hard, thankless jobs of providing cover.
If it had been him instead, he probably wouldn't have escaped from the Singers' two-dimensional foil alive.
"Actually, we were pretty lucky. That ship most likely wasn't one of the Singers' warships; otherwise, I doubt we could've succeeded."
Raynor carefully inspected every component of the seed ship and could tell it wasn't designed for combat.
No heavy cannons. No advanced defense systems. Not even many guards. Everything pointed to it being a simple utility vessel.
Its apparent function seemed to be little more than cleansing traces of exposed civilizations.
And precisely because of that, Raynor's boarding assault had gone so smoothly—he'd achieved victory in one decisive strike, facing virtually no meaningful resistance.
Had it been an actual Singer warship, it definitely wouldn't have been so easy.
V pondered this, then told Raynor to get some rest. The seed ship's true purpose would have to wait for the Science Nexus Division's analysis to confirm.
All they could do now was wait for the results.
...
At the Science Nexus Division, the two-dimensional foil the Singers hadn't had time to launch had already been delivered to the lab.
Now they could finally study what the foil looked like before activation.
Originally, Chisaji Fox and the others had planned to question the captured Singer about the foil and the Homeworld, but the creature seemed to have entered a kind of hibernation—it wouldn't wake no matter how they tried.
Fearing he might accidentally kill the Singer, Alt Cunningham had placed it inside a bio-chamber to let it sleep undisturbed.
Since no one could tell them anything, they would just have to uncover the information themselves.
At that moment, Li Ang arrived at the Science Nexus Division with V and Song Zhaomei, watching as Chisaji Fox manipulated magnetic fields to carefully lift a thin, translucent sheet.
"The outermost layer of the two-dimensional foil has a containment field. As long as that field isn't removed, it's harmless," Alt Cunningham reminded them gently, lest any of the corporate executives grow too anxious.
Everyone there knew the foil's destructive power. If the Hyperion hadn't struck first, this very sheet might already have been launched—leaving them no chance to study such a delicate yet lethal weapon up close.
"How's it going? Any good news yet?" Li Ang asked, glancing toward the foil.
"We're still a little ways off from fully decoding it, but yes—we've discovered something interesting."
Alt smiled as he brought up a holographic display. Their findings were substantial—this supposedly incomprehensible device was actually quite straightforward to analyze.
It could even be reverse-engineered by the Megacorp in short order!
But Li Ang wasn't interested in building more foils. He gestured for Otto Cunningham to skip that part.
"Is there a way to stop the spread of two-dimensional collapse?" Leon asked. That was the part that truly concerned him.
Destruction was easy. Control—that was the hard part.
"This is the key." Alt Cunningham pointed to the container holding the foil—a translucent sheet as delicate as a love letter from one's school days.
Li Angn stared at the faint white glow emanating from the foil and immediately understood: Otto was referring to the outer containment field.
The key to delaying two-dimensional collapse lay in that field material.
Without that unremarkable little layer, everyone would have been flattened into patterns in an instant.
"So what we need is that containment field. If we can expand it to a large enough scale and form a protective barrier, we can keep the Solar System from being reduced to two dimensions."
Li Ang could tell from Alt's expression that he was right—the foil's destructive force was bound only by that field. Dimensional reduction wasn't entirely unstoppable.
"Exactly. The two-dimensional foil is, in essence, a tiny pocket of two-dimensional space. If left uncontrolled, it expands rapidly."
"Only the containment field can limit its collapse. The field will eventually evaporate, but it lasts long enough to matter."
"As long as we master this technology, we can create large-scale containment fields to suppress the spread of two-dimensional collapse."
Alt Cunningham's assurance filled everyone present with renewed hope. If they could truly harness this technology, then even a dimensional strike wouldn't spell doom.
If the Singers hurled another foil toward the Solar System, the corporation could immediately deploy a new containment field around it. As long as they could buy enough time, there would always be a way to halt the collapse entirely.
"We can master this technology, can't we?" V asked eagerly.
"Of course. We have plenty of field-capable materials—we just need to refine and test them. It won't take long to find the right one."
Alt replied with a calm smile. Field materials were nothing exotic, and with the data obtained from the seed ship, creating a containment field would be no great challenge.
Hearing Lts reassurance, Li Ang nodded in satisfaction. Once this was handled, the Singer civilization would no longer pose a real threat.
"You mentioned discovering some interesting information earlier. What was it?" Song Zhaomei asked. She didn't understand the science—she cared more about new intelligence.
"This seed ship's core contains its own decryption system. With even the simplest AI, we can quickly access everything stored inside."
At those words, Li Ang pupils contracted sharply.