Chapter 11: The Taboo of Technology Sharing

The dome of the Contact Zone at the Moonshade Base glowed with a cold white light. Lin Shen stood before the holographic projection console, the tactical helmet in his palm leaving faint impressions—one that Xia Qing had pressed into his hand last night. Beyond the glass walls, the light cocoon floated suspended within the magnetic confinement field, its pale blue halo pulsing gently like a breath. The projection of Aemil was coalescing from the core, her hair shimmering faintly like fragments of the Milky Way.

“Professor Lin,” Aemil’s voice trembled with stardust undertones, “we have brought the fundamental formulas for stellar energy regulation.”

Suddenly, the meeting room’s holographic screen flared to life, streams of pale violet data pouring out from the light cocoon, weaving in the air into a Klein bottle structure. As Lin Shen leaned closer, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end—the formulas interlaced familiar Maxwell equations, yet the gravitational terms extended into three imaginary dimensions he had never encountered before.

“But we must abide by the laws of civilized contact,” Aemil’s projection rippled like water disturbed by a stone. “Sharing cross-dimensional technology will cause the collapse of civilization’s structure, just as…” Her fingertip gently traced the surface of the light cocoon, a dark purple crack flashing briefly across the energy body. “Just as when the resonance network of our homeworld was forcibly dismantled.”

At the far end of the long table, Xia Qing suddenly rapped sharply on the desktop, the clash of tactical gloves against alloy producing a crisp sound. “Get to the point. What exactly do you need?”

“The quantum resonance network requires stellar energy to sustain it,” Aemil turned to Xia Qing. “We can share the regulation technology to stabilize solar output, but…” Her gaze flicked toward the three theoretical physicists seated in the back row—delegates from Oleg. “Any reverse engineering or decryption of the core formulas will trigger the ‘Exclusivity Protocol.’”

Lin Shen noticed the three scholars exchanging glances. The female doctor wearing gold-rimmed glasses tapped rapidly beneath the table—a Morse code message of ‘Received.’ He recalled when he had run into them last week in the lab, the holographic display flashing atomic structure diagrams of the light cocoon’s surface material—the failed infiltration mission of Oleg’s ‘Aurora Group.’

“Thank you for your frankness,” Lin Shen cleared his throat. “We will abide by the laws.” His eyes briefly met Xia Qing’s, who was staring down at her tactical wristwatch, where real-time energy consumption data flickered—the fusion reactor power in the Contact Zone was currently 17% higher than usual.

As the meeting ended, the light cocoon suddenly projected a translucent contract written in human mathematical symbols: “Restricted to superficial applications of stellar energy regulation.” The moment Lin Shen pressed the confirmation key, the neural interface at the back of his neck warmed slightly—that was Aemil’s spiritual form resonating, transmitting a sense of reassurance.

Two hours later, Lin Shen was pulled by the alarm blaring through the laboratory.

“Professor!” Assistant Xiao Zhou’s voice cracked with panic. “The quantum network is screaming—warning patterns on the light cocoon’s surface… they’re bleeding!”

Outside the lab’s protective glass, the light cocoon had lost its pale blue hue. Veins of blood-red patterns crawled like veins across its surface, each pulsating with high-frequency vibrations. The air was thick with the acrid scent of ozone burning. The spectrum analysis on the holographic screen jumped erratically; the once smooth energy curve torn into jagged teeth. At the top, a glaring red alert flashed: [Exclusivity Protocol Triggered: Civilization Coordinates Exposed].

“Who is trying to decrypt the core formulas?” Xia Qing’s voice exploded through the comms, her tactical boots thudding closer. “Lin Shen, cut off all external devices immediately!”

Lin Shen dashed to the main control panel, fingers flying over the interface. As he pulled up the device logs, his molars clenched painfully—at 3:17 a.m., someone had logged in using Oleg’s biometric key, connecting an ‘in-depth analysis program’ from Earth.

“It’s them,” Xiao Zhou pointed to the three physicists in the corner, who were attempting to copy data onto nano USB drives. “They said Chairman Oleg ordered it… said it was for the sake of civilization’s survival.”

Xia Qing’s electromagnetic rifle clicked as it chambered a round, though the muzzle was not aimed at anyone. Her gaze fixed on the blood-red veins across the light cocoon, her voice colder than the moonlit night: “Do you understand what exposing our coordinates means?”

The three scholars went pale; the youngest suddenly collapsed to his knees. “We just… we just wanted to see if we could improve fusion technology…”

“Enough.” Lin Shen pressed Xia Qing’s wrist to steady her, then turned back to the light cocoon. Aemil’s projection twisted within the blood-red veins, waves of despair rippling through her spiritual form. “The Star Hunters’ navigation systems scan all public star maps… they know the solar system now.”

Amid the blaring alarms, Lin Shen’s comm device vibrated. Oleg’s face appeared on the holographic display, his office on Earth in the background, shadowed figures of angry congressmen lurking behind him. “Professor Lin, I need you to come to Earth immediately.” His fingers clenched a half fragment of silver metal etched with quantum entanglement patterns matching the light cocoon’s surface. “Some prices must be paid by someone.”

When Lin Shen landed at the Earth United Government building aboard a shuttle, Oleg’s office was surrounded by lawmakers. The environment minister, eyes bloodshot, pounded the table. “Do you know what exposing our coordinates will bring? The Star Hunters destroyed the Dreamweaver’s last colony three days ago!”

“So what?” Oleg released the metal fragment, his palm bearing a deep red imprint. “Without stellar energy regulation technology, we won’t last seventy-two hours! They want the sun’s power; we want a chance to survive—this is a trade!”

Lin Shen stared at the half fragment, suddenly recognizing the patterns as the first half of the light cocoon’s core formula. “You planned this all along.” His voice trembled. “From the Aurora Group’s infiltration, you’ve been gathering data.”

“Exactly.” Oleg slipped the fragment into his suit pocket. “When the Dreamweavers said ‘unbreakable,’ I knew we had to gamble. Survival instinct is encoded in every civilization’s genes. You idealists will never understand—”

“Enough.” Xia Qing’s voice cut in from the doorway. She removed her tactical helmet, short hair tousled by the shuttle’s airflow. “The question now is how to keep the Star Hunters from turning toward the solar system.”

The office fell silent. Lin Shen looked out the window—the Earth’s sky was piercingly blue, reminiscent of the jacaranda flowers his mother planted in his childhood. The emotions Aemil had transmitted flooded his mind: When the Dreamweaver homeworld was cloaked by the Dyson membrane, what thoughts stirred in the last light cocoon’s spirit? Was it a yearning for survival, or a dread of loneliness?

Oleg’s fingers absently traced the fragment in his pocket; the metal’s edge cut into his skin, a bead of blood forming and falling like a drop of red stardust.

(End of chapter)