Kael sat in the pilot’s cradle, feeling the hum of the escape shuttle beneath his bones. Not the old pod—this new thing that had grown from wreckage and AI madness, fused and reborn. The console dimmed, the blue panel now gone, but its weight still echoed behind his eyes.

  200,963 survivors.

  The number had stuck in his mind, pulsing like a second heartbeat. A count of a species slipping toward extinction, floating in the aftermath of cosmic collapse.

  The AI had done… something. Bonded to him. Altered the escape pod. Changed the rules. But that last message—“Welcome to Level One of the System”—still twisted in his gut. And worse, the words that had come just before it:

  “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

  He glanced down at the spot where the tentacle had stabbed into his neck. No visible mark, just a faint ache pulsing in rhythm with his pulse. It felt deeper than skin. Like a thread now tied to something vast.

  No way to level up. That phrase from the interface haunted him. What kind of system left you blind to progress? Unless the point was exactly that—trial, suffering, instinct.

  He exhaled and brought the console back to life.

  A minimalist HUD displayed his current objective:

  MISSION ACTIVE: Signal Beacon Recovery

  Objective: Locate and retrieve long-range comm relay.

  Estimated Reward: Resource Cache / System Upgrade Progress

  That last part tugged at him. “System Upgrade Progress.” Vague, infuriating, but necessary. If he wanted answers—if he wanted control—he’d have to follow the breadcrumbs.

  “AI,” he said aloud. “How far is the beacon?”

  A smooth voice echoed in his skull now, not from the console. “Estimated distance: 12.4 kilometers. Gravitational drift has pulled it deeper into the mid-orbit debris field. Navigation risk: moderate.”

  “Any hostiles?”

  “None detected.”

  Kael snorted. “Comforting.”

  He suited up. The shuttle’s internal suit rack had adapted during the transformation; his suit, once patched and barely functional, now had new plating along the ribs and spine. Probably another AI enhancement. He didn’t like how familiar it felt—like putting on someone else’s skin that somehow still fit perfectly.

  As he stepped toward the outer hatch, he paused at the viewport. Wreckage drifted across the stars—bent solar fins, shorn hull fragments, frozen oxygen crystals glittering in orbit. The corpse of the Prospector’s Dagger still hung like a monument to silent catastrophe.

  Somewhere in that field, a beacon blinked. A tiny, forgotten voice in the void. And he was going to bring it back.

  “Opening outer hatch,” the AI announced.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  The seal depressurized with a low hiss. Kael stepped out into the mag boots, feeling the tug of each lock with every step. He clutched the tow line to a waiting drone sled—one of the AI’s newer creations, cobbled together from parts and purpose.

  The shuttle’s external lights flicked on, and the drone pushed ahead, tugging him gently into the sea of metal ghosts.

  ?

  The drift felt endless.

  Ten minutes out, and already Kael’s muscles burned. Malnutrition had eaten into his strength, and while his mind stayed sharp, his body lagged behind. Every pulse of effort left a cold ache in his joints.

  “Vitals declining,” the AI murmured in his mind. “Recommending intake of supplemental gel upon return.”

  “Noted,” Kael muttered.

  The drone swept through the field with surgical precision, carving a narrow path through the floating wreckage. Kael followed carefully, keeping low, conserving motion. Here, among the shattered bones of their expedition ship, every movement was a whisper against oblivion.

  He paused beside a hull fragment. Its surface was blackened, curved inward like a tin can. Blaster marks? Maybe. Or some kind of internal detonation.

  The explosion hadn’t been random. He kept circling back to that. Someone had sabotaged them. Someone had known what they were doing.

  But why?

  The AI interrupted his thoughts. “Beacon signal strength increasing. We are close.”

  Kael rounded a sharp turn between two twisted decks and saw it.

  A narrow, high-gain communications tower, sheared from its base, drifted at an angle above a ring of debris. Its red strobe still blinked—dim, but regular. A heartbeat in the dark.

  He approached with caution. “Scan for stability.”

  “Structure is compromised but intact. Retrieval viable. Caution advised: magnetics may cause oscillation during tethering.”

  “Understood.”

  He launched a grapple from the drone. It latched with a satisfying click, anchoring to the beacon’s spine. Slowly, he maneuvered the sled back toward the shuttle, the beacon in tow.

  Halfway there, the AI spoke again. “New data unlocked.”

  Kael frowned. “What?”

  “Partial system integration has progressed to 4%. Unlocking subsystem: Fabrication Tier 1.”

  Before Kael could reply, a new panel bloomed in his mind.

  ?

  Subsystem: Fabrication Tier 1

  Status: Unlocked

  Available Functions:

  ? Basic Component Printing

  ? Power Cell Reconditioning

  ? Hull Plating Synthesis (Limited)

  Resource Requirement: Raw Matter (Salvaged / Organic / Synth)

  Upgrade Requirement: Shuttle Level 2

  ?

  He blinked. That was… real progress. The AI hadn’t explained anything—but now the shuttle could print parts? Reinforce plating? That wasn’t just survival. That was groundwork for growth.

  “You could’ve told me,” he muttered.

  “I could,” the AI replied.

  Kael bit back a retort and returned focus to the beacon. Step by step, meter by meter, they inched back toward the shuttle.

  Twenty meters out, a shadow passed overhead.

  Kael froze.

  A slab of wreckage—a full corridor bulkhead—drifted past, rotating slowly. Harmless. But for a moment, it had looked like something else. Something moving with purpose.

  He didn’t breathe again until the drone re-docked with the shuttle. The moment the beacon entered the airlock, Kael followed, collapsing to his knees as the chamber sealed behind him.

  “Welcome back,” the AI said smoothly.

  “Sarcasm?”

  “Syntax unclear.”

  Kael leaned against the wall and pulled off his helmet. The filtered air of the shuttle filled his lungs—cool, metallic, but safe. For now.

  He looked at the recovered beacon. It had a small power core, partially depleted but intact. And storage banks—logs, maybe. Messages. Data.

  Hope.

  “Begin data recovery,” Kael said. “And start the fabrication module. I want to reinforce the shuttle interior. And fix the rations printer if possible.”

  “Understood. Fabricator initializing.”

  A low vibration ran through the shuttle. Somewhere deep in the belly of this thing—this strange fusion of ship and system—the AI began spinning resource into survival.

  Kael finally sat down and let himself feel the exhaustion.

  He was still weak. Still confused. Still afraid.

  But now?

  Now he had a thread to pull. A plan. A voice in the dark.

  And—just maybe—the start of a path forward.