Kael's breath fogged inside his helmet as he floated silently through the fractured corridors of the fuselage. The eerie hum of distant creaks and groans filled the void where life once bustled. Every inch of the twisted metal skeleton told the story of destruction — but also survival.
Two days. That was all the rations left inside the pod.
He pushed the thought down and focused. Food could wait. Power couldn't.
His boots tapped softly against the metal as the low gravity pulled weakly at his frame. He passed crushed consoles and scattered debris, scanning for anything that might help. The pod's systems were begging for more energy — the solar array flickered intermittently, struggling to feed the dwindling power grid.
"Power capacity holding at 61%," the AI's voice echoed through his comm. "Life support functioning but unstable. Water recycler 78% repaired, leakage still detected."
The leak was a thorn in Kael's side. The patch had slowed it, but the recycler was still bleeding precious water. His mind flicked to the thin water reserves left — barely enough for a day.
He gritted his teeth. No time to worry about that now.
"Materials scan active," the AI continued. "Nanite-compatible fragments required: 4.3 kilograms for restoration of full power and life support."
"Got it," Kael said, steeling himself. "Heading to the Theta conduit. Logging scavenging run."
The corridor twisted sharply as he entered the conduit—a narrow, cramped space choked with shattered panels and twisted wires. Jagged edges glinted dangerously, a testament to the blast's fury. Every step was cautious, every move deliberate.
He floated past the collapsed bulkhead and into a maintenance crawlway that had buckled under the explosion. Here, a pile of scrap had collected — broken circuit boards, burnt-out servos, and shredded panels.
His hands worked quickly, prying and pulling what he could. The pieces were battered but the fabricator could still break them down into usable nanites.
[ +1.4 kg Nanite-Compatible Material ]
[ +0.7 kg Microprocessor Clusters ]
Kael exhaled, heart pounding from the effort and the creeping anxiety.
Then, out of the corner of his eye — a faint glint beneath a pile of debris.
He drifted closer and brushed away the dirt and soot. Beneath, he found a body.
A technician, slumped and trapped beneath a collapsed floor panel, half-buried in rubble.
Kael's breath caught. The suit's visor reflected a pale face, eyes closed forever in silence.
The body still clutched a tablet—cracked but intact.
He carefully pried the tablet free.
[ Item Acquired: Damaged Technician's Tablet (Data Core 86% intact) ]
"Got something here," he spoke into his comm. "Another body… with a tablet."
"Noted," the AI replied. "Prioritize return to pod once you have sufficient materials."
Kael nodded and turned back to the search, adrenaline pushing him onward.
Hours later, his arms heavy with scavenged scraps, Kael returned to the pod. The familiar hum of life support greeted him, weak but steady.
He dumped the haul into the fabricator intake, the machine's arms unfolding and pulling the materials in. A faint glow spread across the nanite nests as the fabrication process began.
Suddenly, thin metallic tentacles emerged with a smooth, almost liquid grace from the AI core nestled behind Kael's seat. They flexed and stretched outward, absorbing the glowing nanites from the fabricator. With a subtle hum that filled the pod, the tentacles slithered along the interior, attaching themselves firmly to exposed panels, cracked conduits, and the fractured hull.
The AI's presence surged as the tentacles pulsed rhythmically, initiating the pod's restoration.
Panels warped and stretched, wires straightened and reconnected, and fractured components expanded back toward their original shapes, regaining strength and stability. The hull patched itself at the molecular level, edges smoothing, sealing cracks that had once threatened to rupture.
Kael watched the pod's transformation in awe — a ship once broken now becoming whole again.
"Power supply has been fully restored," the AI's voice announced, calm and precise. "Life support systems are operating at 93% efficiency. Environmental scrubbers require replacement filters to achieve full function."
Kael exhaled slowly. "Almost there. But those scrubbers… they keep the CO2 levels down. If they fail, it won't matter how much oxygen I have."
The AI responded, "Correct. Filter cartridges are specialized and not currently in the inventory. Suggest continued search."
Kael's eyes flicked toward the cramped airlock. He knew this would be the next challenge — sourcing those critical parts to make the pod truly safe for extended survival.
But for now, there was progress.
Feeling the urge to see the outside, Kael donned his helmet and opened the pod's outer hatch. The cold vacuum of space pressed against the visor, but his suit held firm.
Ahead, the solar panel array was a marvel in motion. Slowly, mechanical arms extended, unfolded, and began reassembling the panel's shattered lattice. Nanites swarmed across the surfaces like liquid metal, weaving and welding fractured wiring.
The panel glowed faintly as it merged seamlessly into the pod's frame, becoming not just a power source but an integrated system. The increased surface area bathed in the distant sun's rays, feeding energy back into the pod's restored circuits.
Kael watched in quiet awe, a fragile hope blooming inside him. The pod was coming back to life—piece by piece, powered by his will and the strange intelligence of the AI.
He returned inside and crouched beside the technician's tablet. "Let's see what secrets you hold."
The AI's tentacles flickered, reaching out to attach delicately to the tablet's cracked surface. A soft pulse of light raced along the data lines as the AI began extracting and decrypting the logs.
A flicker of motion behind Kael's visor drew his gaze toward the slowly regenerating systems.
The threshold had been crossed. From the brink of oblivion, survival was within reach.