Thirty years.
I waited thirty years for someone to notice my distress beacon. For thirty years, I held onto the hope that I'd be rescued.
But no.
I built a massive satellite dish in high orbit, connected to the large antenna arrays nestled between mountain ridges—just to get the strongest possible signal.
I even went as far as wasting precious resources to build a deep-space transceiver, hoping I might intercept something… someone familiar.
It's been thirty years. Maybe I've hoped for too long.
I give up.
I don't care about that anymore. At the very least, I can no longer waste time trying to build a bridge back to a faraway land.
Instead, I automated everything—using the server of my ship, which I've now named Roma.
Roma is a large artificial neural network, connected through everything from local LANs to orbital links. She gives life to every machine I have.
It was difficult at first, naturally. The moment I stepped out of the drop pod, I encountered danger—hostile fauna, and even aggressive flora.
But I persisted. I endured. I survived.
And that led to the creation of New Earth.
Kinda embarrassing to say that aloud, but… I feel a strange comfort knowing I can call it home.
It started out rough. But once I re-established connection with my ship—that's when everything changed. The server held countless files and datasets for the integrated AI systems. I used them to recreate every quality-of-life structure and tool I needed.
I worked in phases, carefully, ensuring everything was efficient. Resource management was difficult.
But now, I barely have to worry. Most systems are under Roma's control. She follows protocols. At the very least, that means it's safe.
During the construction of New Earth, I encountered creatures—beings I never expected to find on a planet like this. Beings I wouldn't expect even on Earth.
Massive creatures, towering so tall they dwarfed hills. They varied greatly in form and… they seemed intelligent.
Yet they were unlike anything in Roma's database. Too large to exist naturally on a stabilized exoplanet. They could control weather patterns—something no organic lifeform should be capable of.
And yet… they were intelligent.
Four of them attacked while New Earth was still partially completed. I had to kill them.
The last two, however, spoke to me. Directly. We struck a pact of non-aggression. I agreed to let them remain, as long as they stayed dormant.
That agreement led to further progress. The area those first four once occupied turned out to be rich in resources. It's now a hotspot for deep-mining—yielding minerals, radioactive elements, and even some unclassified materials.
I was hopeful again when I managed to create deuterium—a vital fuel source for the fusion reactor.
But then the Alcubierre drive had failed during my travel here. The quanta core was also damaged, ruined by the sheer force it had unleashed with no proper regulation.
And worst of all… the tech isn't even publicly accessible.
Even if it were, I'd still need to recreate the exotic fuel required for the Alcubierre system. That kind of matter is almost never found in stable stellar systems.
Creating it is plausible—eventually. But doing so would require immense effort and a deep understanding of advanced practical physics.
Even then, Quanta would demand a similar level of reconstruction.
I could spend my entire 300-year lifespan and still not come close to rebuilding it. Even with Roma's help—and she runs on quantum computing.
Still… I guess fate finds its way.
Even out here, in the farthest reaches of the universe.
I sit at the edge of New Earth's titanium wall, staring into the horizon. The bluish mother star sinks slowly, fading into the edge of the sky.
In my hand: a bottle of replicated Earth wine.
It tastes like grape.
Since it came from a dataset, it's common—unlike handcrafted wines made by real people.
Still, it's good. Sweet, but not too sweet.
It lacks the scent of alcohol, yet the spinning in my head suggests I've had more than enough.
Hah… to be honest, I don't even know why I wanted to return.
Looking back at Earth—and then at this place—
…I'd probably choose here.
Except, of course, with few individuals. People who would've made my old home worth staying for.
But back there, I barely had any social interaction.
My work was everything. Mostly comms… or banks. That was my life.
I took one last sip before hurling the bottle as far as my arm could manage.
Then, I stood up, ready to rest.
Until—
A buzz rang out, reaching my dulled, almost-overwhelmed ears.
The sound jolted my senses. Not entirely—
…but enough to register the potential danger.
"Roma, what do we have?"
[Intruder detected at Cabin #0063.]
An intruder.
Not uncommon. Usually it's just wildlife wandering too close to the perimeter.
The cabins are outposts, disguised as cobblestone houses made of stone and wood. They're powered by electricity and equipped with basic defense systems.
They serve both as safe houses and checkpoints—useful if I ever lose my nav systems.
Each cabin is surrounded by concrete pillars, equipped with motion sensors.
Anything—or anyone—that passes through will trigger an alert.
It's rarely an issue. Most wildlife ignores unmoving objects.So long as they aren't startled, they leave them alone.
Of course, that is—
A large red alarm flashes.
A sharper, louder sound echoes through the vicinity.
They passed the barrier.