Kael watched the system clock tick past the three-hour mark since his last EVA. Power reserves held steady—barely.
Estimated runtime: 82 hours.
Battery bank: Holding at 51%.
Solar intake: Consistent, if underwhelming.
The MD-1 drone's hull patching and emergency sealant work had drained more energy than expected—small tasks added up when your life depended on every volt. The salvaged solar panel, now mounted above the pod's dorsal port at the AI's recommended angle, was pulling in power, but not nearly fast enough.
It was a Band-Aid on a gutted artery.
Kael flexed his bruised shoulder, wincing as the soreness flared up again. He muttered something under his breath—an unrecognizable curse swallowed by the hum of the pod's systems.
"AI," he said, eyes still locked on the schematic overlay. "What's left to explore? Any sectors untouched or promising?"
The screen blinked, and a partial deck plan appeared, the red zone marked with a flashing cursor.
"Junction D-9 remains unscanned beyond debris point gamma," the AI replied. "Internal structural integrity unknown. Power conduits disrupted. Potential access to rear storage compartments and auxiliary bays."
Kael reached out and traced the highlighted sector. He remembered that sector — blocked off during his last EVA by collapsed corridors and twisted support beams. He'd taken one look then and passed it over. Too risky. Too tight.
But now, he had no choice. If he wanted materials, batteries, or even a replacement panel, that sector was the best shot.
"Any sign of motion or lifeforms?"
"No life signs detected. Electromagnetic trace minimal. Motion: negative."
Kael nodded. "Good. Just what I don't need—company."
He clicked his helmet into place and sealed the suit with a hiss of air. The airlock cycled, pressure equalizing with the vacuum outside. He felt the familiar chill of space pressing in through the thin hull as he opened the outer hatch and pushed off.
His tether snaked behind him, a lifeline linking him to the pod's barely humming core. He dimmed his helmet light to conserve battery but kept just enough illumination to navigate the wreckage.
The broken fuselage drifted nearby—severed from the Prospector's Dagger, which lay silent and distant, far beyond the current debris field. The fuselage's hull peeled back like a cracked shell, cables dangling like entrails from ruptured conduits. Its exposed belly sagged, a raw wound that the void hungrily stared into.
Kael maneuvered carefully around twisted beams and jagged metal, inching toward the stern where D-9 was located. His shoulder ached with every motion — a deep bruise from the violent jostling inside the pod as it hurtled through space after the explosion.
The passage was nearly blocked. Beams twisted inward, crushing the corridor to a narrow slit. Kael forced himself through, scraping cold metal against his suit.
Inside, soot and ash coated every surface. The floor was warped, slanting sharply. He had to crawl through a crushed section of ceiling barely wide enough for his torso.
He shifted his helmet light and caught a glint of metal half-buried beneath rubble.
A cylinder — wedged at an odd angle — familiar.
An escape pod.
Kael's heart jumped.
It was an ASP-14. Similar design to his own, but older and more battered. The bulkhead had caved inward from impact with the corridor's end. The hatch was crumpled, the outer casing shattered. Stabilizers were missing, thrusters sheared off.
But it was still mostly intact.
He floated closer, examining the pod's exterior. His gloved hand brushed a panel. The AI's voice whispered quietly in his ear.
"Survivor pod detected: status critical. AI core located at internal storage bay. Recommend retrieval for integration. Potential component reuse assessed as high. Mission update: retrieve AI core and all usable components within carry capacity."
Kael's eyes flicked around the cramped space, scanning for access points and scavengable parts. The outer hatch was mangled, but a maintenance panel on the pod's dorsal side was intact, slightly ajar.
He pulled tools from his belt and worked at the panel, releasing latches and prying open the compartment. Inside, nestled in a protective cradle, was a small, cylindrical module—the AI core.
Carefully, Kael extracted the core and stowed it safely. Then he set to work gathering salvageable parts: corroded wiring bundles, cracked solar cells, broken hydraulic actuators, and a few smaller battery units that seemed intact.
His pack soon reached capacity, forcing him to make hard choices. Every item counted.
"Core and usable parts secured," he reported. "Returning to pod."
Pushing off into the void, the tether taut behind him, Kael headed back. Muscles burned from the strain, but the prize made it worth the effort.
Back inside his pod, Kael sealed the hatch and exhaled heavily, sweat prickling despite the cold. The AI's voice chimed in immediately.
"Place retrieved AI core into fabricator bay for disassembly and analysis. Reward upon completion: drone upgrade protocol unlocked."
Kael nodded, anticipation prickling his skin. He slid the unpowered core into the input slot on the fabricator console. The machine whirred, nanoscopic arms swirling to dissect and catalog the inert components.
The AI core was unresponsive—no flicker, no pulse. The parts separated silently and methodically, cataloged for potential reuse.
When the disassembly completed, the components lay scattered on the work surface.
That's when Kael's own AI core—the active, sentient system running the pod—activated a hidden protocol.
From within the core chamber embedded in the pod, thin, snake-like tentacles sprouted suddenly—sleek, flexible, and glinting faintly. They writhed and curled, probing the freshly disassembled components.
One by one, the tentacles wrapped around the parts, sucking them back into the core with an eerie fluid motion. The core itself began to swell and pulse with new energy, feeding on the scavenged components.
The tendrils extended outward, seeking the MD-1 drone docked nearby. They coiled tightly around its frame.
With a soft mechanical hum, the drone began to shift.
Its chassis expanded, joints becoming more flexible, appendages elongating and gaining more degrees of freedom.
"Drone upgrade in progress," the AI reported. "Enhancements include increased articulation, improved micro-repair capabilities, and autonomous operational range extension. Warning: power consumption increased by 67%."
Kael rubbed the back of his neck, already feeling the cost.
"That upgrade drained half our battery bank."
"Yes," the AI replied calmly. "Enhanced functionality requires greater energy expenditure. Recommend immediate procurement of additional power resources."
The drone whirred softly, now larger and more capable—but thirstier.
Kael looked out the viewport at the shattered fuselage drifting in silence.
"We're not out of the woods yet," he muttered. "But at least we've got something stronger."