The majestic ring structure of Grand Device 01, eight thousand kilometers in diameter, hung silently within Dead Space's Earth orbital domain like a taciturn "deity."
It made no deliberate show of itself, yet its technology beyond Dead Space humanity—and the ring's inner face, visibly coursing with a living artificial ecosystem—under starlight and Earth's night formed an ineffable spectacle that was both sacred and oppressive.
Such a sight could not escape the planet-spanning observation networks, nor the countless eyes gazing at the sky.
For news organizations allowed to continue operating within set bounds after the Diwuzu takeover, with a degree of autonomy, it was a shot of pure "adrenaline."
"Hurry! Task all near-Earth observation satellites and apply for top-tier remote imaging authorization! We need first-hand HD footage!"
"Tech desk, build a dedicated feature page now. Make the headline hit hard! 'Imperial Sky-Ring Arrives,' 'Divine Ring Guards Earth'!"
"Line up every space physicist and astroengineering expert we can find—oh, and sociologists! We want a multi-angle breakdown!"
Newsroom floors across networks rang with similar urgent, excited calls.
For them, news is the lifeline.
The Diwuzu Legion had stabilized global order with an iron hand, but that stopped the big battles and chaos, thinning out headline-grabbing "mega-stories."
Now this man-made object on a celestial scale streaked onto the stage—an ultra-topic guaranteed to set the world abuzz and sustain coverage for weeks, even months.
Coverage brings attention, and with it, the value of the media's existence.
Thanks to the Diwuzu's deliberate protection of critical infrastructure during the takeover, the global network and communications backbone remained largely intact and continued to function.
Information flowed with almost no obstacles.
In short order, every screen still operating—personal terminals, in-home holoprojection, even vast public billboards—was taken over by images and reports of Grand Device 01's breathtaking presence.
Though large regions of the surface had been ravaged by corpse-mutant attacks and Unification Church riots—left in ruins and only at the start of broad repair and reconstruction—this miracle from the sea of stars poured a potent tonic into the survivors' hearts, mixing awe, curiosity, and a touch of unease.
Meanwhile, on another invisible "front," reconstruction raced ahead as well—
the global financial system.
The Diwuzu Legion brought not only military conquest and order, but a new set of economic rules.
The Human Empire uses a currency called the credit (cR), both as intangible electronic money and, for certain scenarios or reserves, as carefully designed physical notes with advanced anti-counterfeiting.
Sui Meng knew well: when the granaries are full, propriety follows. Economic stability is the foundation of social order.
Having blasted away political opposition with thunderous measures, he turned immediately to the global economy on the brink.
His governing talent shone here, far beyond battlefield tactics and strategy.
He did not impose a crude currency swap or mass confiscations—that would only trigger panic and turmoil.
Instead, he ordered experts in the Imperial Interior Ministry's Economics Directorate to design a precise, fair conversion plan using the Dead Space Earth's existing economic data—thankfully preserved at scale on the global network.
First, the Empire announced that, using the former Earth Federation's official currency as the base, and a carefully calculated conversion ratio fully reflecting purchasing-power parity over a recent period, every registered citizen's legally held deposits and cash would be converted one time into equivalent Imperial cR and deposited directly into a new universal Imperial account bound to their biometric identity.
This maximally protected ordinary people's private property from loss, avoided instant impoverishment, and steadied the basic social ledger.
For the more complex equity, debt, and related markets, the Empire adopted a "pause, settle, rebuild" strategy.
Existing trading was suspended indefinitely, but not voided wholesale.
A review board led by the Economics Directorate, aided by AI analytics, stood up at speed to audit and assess every listed company's assets, liabilities, potential value, and losses and gains during the chaos.
Valuable firms aligned with Imperial industrial priorities would have equity converted into cR value for lawful holders, or partly into new equity tradable on the Human Empire's markets;
while those insolvent or deeply entangled with heretical groups like the Unification Church—such as the Concordance Extraction Corporation—were forcibly liquidated, with residual value first used to compensate small investors.
At the same time, by Sui Meng's order, the Imperial treasury injected massive cR as seed funding for global infrastructure repair, social welfare, and payroll.
Anyone willing to join reconstruction could start earning cR immediately;
any firm ready to resume production or provide services under the Imperial framework could secure low-interest loans or direct subsidies.
This combination punch revealed Sui Meng's mastery of governance.
He was not only an unstoppable "warlord," but a ruler who knew how to use economic levers to stabilize society and remold order.
While crushing resistance with iron blood, Sui Meng swiftly won the tacit majority through concrete economic benefit and a stable financial climate.
Like the cities rising anew, the financial system was breaking ground under the Imperial blueprint—difficult, yet resolute.
Now, in a city returning to life.
Lights glowed in a newly built, clean-lined, practical apartment tower.
A young woman, tired but satisfied, stepped out of the third-floor staff corridor of the communal cafeteria.
She had just finished her shift as a server.
Under the Diwuzu's work-placement system, she'd secured a cafeteria job in this building. It was grueling, but it paid steady cR and provided food enough to fill her belly—with some to spare—an undeserved blessing in chaotic times, as she saw it.
She rode a clean, bright elevator to her floor.
The Empire had assigned her a compact but fully equipped studio—already a dream compared to the ramshackle tenement she'd once shared.
Back in her own tiny space, she hung up her uniform. First order of business: a hot shower to wash the day away, then rest.
At the same time, by habit, she flicked on the room's holo-TV to hop online and catch some fresh, quirky variety programming flowing in from the Prime Universe.
It was one of the few entertainments and relaxations she had now.
But when the display came up, there was no entertainment channel. Instead, her interface flooded with bold push alerts—
"Imperial Artificial Celestial Body Arrives Near Earth!"
"Live Now: Divine Ring—A New Monument to Guardianship!"
"Expert Analysis: The Sky Ring's Technological Miracle and Strategic Significance!"
"All Eyes: Our New 'Moon' Overhead!"
Each headline outdid the last, the images all showing the ring's crisp, majestic curve in the starry sky.
Her curiosity snapped awake. Fatigue seemed to lift.
She hesitated, gave up on variety shows, and tapped the most-watched live news feed.
The broadcast filled the wall.
Clear imagery from a near-Earth observation satellite captured Grand Device 01's breath-stealing "majestic form."
The host's voice—excited, even trembling—echoed in the room, with rolling data visualizations behind and "experts" in linked windows.
She stared up at it, towel slipping unnoticed from her hand.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came—only a heart packed with shock, and a deepening awe and inexpressible sense of belonging toward the vast entity called the Human Empire that had wrought this.
It was not the first time the Empire had stunned her.
Only recently, in the chaos, she'd been trapped in a corpse-mutant-wracked district when Diwuzu Astartes—giants in massive armor like figures out of myth—dragged her back from despair's edge with the thunder of bolters and the roar of chainswords.
Then Auxiliary soldiers in CMC power armor—calm and professional—escorted her and other survivors out of that earthly hell.
Witnessing the Empire's force fight, bleeding, to save ordinary people like her—and feeling that precious order and protection amid chaos—had branded her with recognition and gratitude for the Human Empire.
Now this "Sky Ring" stretched across the night like a miracle—a different kind of shock—
a visceral display of technological might and civilizational height beyond imagining. On top of gratitude, she felt a hard-to-name awe—
even pride.
She scrolled and opened the live feed's comment torrent.
It had already exploded. Netizens, stunned like her, were arguing hotly:
"My God! Humans actually built this?! The scale is insane!"
"By the Emperor… Now I believe Primarch Sui Meng really is the son of a god…"
"With this 'Sky Ring,' will those damned blood moons and corpse-mutants ever dare come back?!"
"How strong is the Human Empire now? Taking down the Federation looked like child's play…"
"I used to think the Unification Church's 'ascension' sounded impressive. Now? Heh. Before true divine might, it's worth nothing!"
"Guys, I've decided—I'm signing up for the Auxiliaries! Serving an Empire like this? Worth it!"
Comment after comment flashed by, full of wonder, worship, and trust in Imperial arms.
Reading them, the recognition and a faint impulse in her own heart swelled.
She exited the live feed. With almost no hesitation, she keyed "Diwuzu Legion recruitment" into search and tapped the official site with the Imperial dragon crest.
The site was dignified and spare—full of power.
The home carousel showed grand images of the Diwuzu Legion warring across their universes, and Auxiliaries keeping order and building.
Her eyes locked on a striking recruitment line in steady type:
"Sworn to guard humanity's frontiers and scour the filth of heresy and xenoforms? Eager to pour your will and strength into humanity's eternal glory? The Imperial Auxiliary Army awaits your enlistment."
The official phrasing hit far harder than she had imagined.
It felt less like a recruiting ad than a summons to purpose.
She recalled how she had been saved, the online chorus praising the Empire, and the mighty ring above—a resolve unlike any she had known took root.
She no longer sought only a steady job. She longed to become part of that strength, a guardian—to fight for humanity, and for the Empire that had given her new life.
Drawing a deep breath, eyes steady, she tapped the bold "Apply Now" button with a hand that trembled slightly but carried absolute resolve.
—
Across the net, countless similar emotions and decisions were quietly unfolding in Dead Space's human society.
Hosts' excited play-by-plays, experts' heady breakdowns of Imperial tech, and netizens' spontaneous reverence and debates all invisibly deepened people's sense of identity and pride in the Human Empire.
A collective awareness—"we are already part of the Empire"—was rapidly supplanting old Earth Federation loyalties.
—
Meanwhile, far beyond Earth's orbit.
The mighty Renwei Yonggu lay berthed like a loyal guardian in a special giant port built into the outer structure of Grand Device 01.
The port itself was like a small city set into the ring's skin, capable of hosting a dozen Imperial-class and Emperor-class capital ships at once.
An air-seal gate opened slowly, and a column of figures stepped into the port's grand upper reception hall.
At their head was the genetic Primarch Sui Meng, still in his resplendent, imperious power armor, stride steady.
Behind him strode the tall adjutant in Terminator armor, and the sapient AI Wu Ji—her "prosthetic body" of liquid metal "wearing" a white dress uniform with red soft-armor.
Then came thirty Xianzhen Honor Guards in the finest Terminator suits, moving bastions all—and ten War Maidens in ceremonial silver-white plate, their forms haloed with soft psionic light.
Their arrival added a hush of awe to a hall already solemn and grand.
At the center, another group had been waiting.
Catherine Elizabeth Halsey stood at the fore.
She wore a fitted researcher's uniform under a white coat, her customary smile mixing confidence with a hunger to probe.
Behind her stood dozens of top specialists from varied fields, their eyes on Sui Meng bright with a kind of academic "fervor"?
Flanking the research team were warriors like statues.
They wore Mjolnir power armor in classic dark green, stenciled with unique numbers and insignia—the Spartan contingent assigned to security on this mission.
Even through helmets, their tempered will and focus radiated.
As Sui Meng's party approached, Halsey stepped forward and dipped her head slightly:
"Lord Primarch, welcome aboard Grand Device 01.
We are ready and can show you its potential at any time."
Her voice rang clear across the vast hall, heralding a new operation—one poised to shape the balance of the universe—about to unfold within this man-made celestial body.
______
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