The drone cradle was nearly complete. Kael crouched beside it, watching the last few nanite filaments weave around exposed cabling and shattered housing. The internal servos clicked as the AI ran diagnostics, preparing to reawaken the drone for full autonomous recovery tasks.
"Structural integrity of the cradle at ninety-eight percent," the AI reported. "Power conduit now stable. Drone reactivation in progress."
"Good," Kael replied, straightening and rolling his shoulders. "We'll need it operational if we're going to finish this."
The pod's hum had changed. With power stabilized and life support nearing full efficiency, the systems had begun self-optimizing again — a sign of the AI's increasing autonomy. Panels along the walls shimmered faintly as repaired circuits lit them with uniform intensity. Ventilation ducts cycled in perfect rhythm. For the first time since waking in the ruined capsule, Kael didn't feel like he was living inside a ticking time bomb.
Not entirely, anyway.
Food was still dwindling. Water continued leaking at a slow but relentless pace. And the pod's hull bore dozens of fractures that couldn't be patched without heavier alloy plating. There was still work to be done — and fast.
"You said there's a nest of viable materials near the old engineering station?" he asked, checking his helmet's seals.
"Yes. Composite alloy, broken servos, power cells, and scattered nanite-threaded circuit boards. Enough to provide an estimated thirty percent of remaining nanite fabrication needs."
"Any signs of danger?"
A pause.
"Structural instability in that region is severe. Risk of collapse is thirty-two percent if impacted."
Kael sighed and slid his helmet over his head. "So the usual."
He stepped into the airlock and waited for the pressure to equalize. Outside, the wreckage was quiet — frozen in the stillness of vacuum and shadow, with only the reflected starlight and faint halo of distant debris giving form to the vast ruins.
The tether released with a soft snap.
He guided himself toward the distant remains of the Prospector's Dagger's engineering station — or what was left of it. The station had once been a vital sub-node for internal diagnostics and system-level repairs, nested between midship maintenance spires. Now, only fractured platforms and curling bulkhead slabs remained, half-swallowed by overlapping debris.
A nest of mangled machinery floated there — a twisted mess of burnt-out panels, fragmented conduit arms, and shattered support structures. Kael maneuvered carefully, planting his boots against a bent truss beam as he surveyed the cluster.
Within it, he spotted the charred husk of a maintenance mech — its arm sheared off, torso blackened but still housing an intact control module. He reached in and tugged the casing free. A short hiss of escaping gas vented from a ruptured line, but nothing detonated.
He turned the module over in his hands. "This should do."
Nearby, broken alloy plates floated beside melted processors and a jagged housing unit studded with nanite inlays. He tagged the salvage for drone retrieval — each one a puzzle piece in the pod's slow, painful resurrection.
"I've got what I need," he said. "Prep the drone."
"Drone is online and mobile. Deploying now."
Kael glanced over his shoulder. From the edge of the pod's hatch, the drone emerged — sleeker than before. The recent upgrades had streamlined its limbs, making its movement more fluid. It hovered outward in a smooth arc before jetting toward the salvage site.
"Look at you," Kael murmured. "Becoming useful."
"I am always useful," the AI replied, managing to sound both proud and mildly insulted.
Kael returned to the pod with his salvaged load. As he entered, the hiss of the airlock gave way to the stable, filtered atmosphere of his temporary home.
He moved to the fabrication station and placed the items into the input cradle.
"Begin processing."
Nanites swarmed over the components like silver fireflies, breaking them down into base material. The faint hum of energy transfer filled the pod again as the AI's core pulled power into the nest chambers.
A faint glow spread across the nanite nests as the fabrication process began.
Then the tentacles emerged.
They unfurled from the AI core housing with unsettling grace — metallic tendrils gliding like water as they reached toward the nest. As they touched the glowing nanite pools, the energy flared, and a low buzzing sound pulsed through the chamber.
Kael stepped back instinctively.
The tentacles writhed and pulsed, glowing with internal currents. Then they extended to the pod walls themselves — embedding into internal plating, vanishing into conduits and maintenance ducts.
"AI, what are you—"
"Synchronization complete. Upgrading internal systems. Power distribution grid recalibrated. Faulty connections routed through new pathways. Estimated system efficiency increase: 22%."
Kael's eyes widened.
He turned to the rear of the pod as a sudden vibration rolled through the floor. Across the console, new readings began to scroll — system outputs climbing, temperature differentials evening out. The hum of subsystems reached a new equilibrium.
He moved to the console.
[Power Supply: Fully Operational – Output Enhanced by 36%]
[Life Support: 98% Repaired]
[CO₂ Scrubbers: 100% Efficiency]
[Water Recycler Leak Rate: 0.15 L/hr]
"The scrubbers are online," Kael said quietly. "And the leak's slowing."
"Correct. Life support is now operating at sustainable levels. Further optimization will occur after system restabilization."
Kael looked down at the tentacles. They were retracting slowly, disappearing back into the AI housing. Residual energy shimmered along the pod walls where they had touched — small, hexagonal patterns forming and vanishing like the ghost of circuitry.
"That's… that's what you meant by evolution, isn't it?" Kael said. "The pod can change. Adapt. If it has enough power and material."
"Yes. The original design incorporated adaptive frameworks. However, extensive damage had locked these behind safety restrictions. Now that systems are stabilizing, core directives have reengaged."
"Which means…?"
"Pod evolution will continue. Stage one: structural repair, gravity simulation, and partial AI permissions unlocked."
Kael blinked. "Gravity?"
A soft vibration passed through the floor. Then his boots lifted slightly — and slammed down again.
The pod shook as inertial dampeners flared to life. Suddenly, weight returned — not natural gravity, but simulated mass via a localized gravity generator. The faintest hum echoed through the frame, giving the entire pod a new, subtle tension.
"Artificial gravity field established," the AI confirmed. "Level set to 0.7g for biological comfort."
Kael stumbled slightly and grinned. "You're full of surprises."
"More surprises available upon full system restoration," it replied.
He sank down against the wall, letting the new gravity pull him into the bench. For the first time, he wasn't floating, drifting, or struggling to keep hold of surfaces. He could move freely.
"We still need the nav system and the propellers fixed," he said. "And fuel."
"Correct. Navigation and propulsion remain offline until external structural repairs are complete and fuel sources are acquired."
"Then we're not out of the woods yet."
"No. But we are no longer dying."
Kael chuckled — dry, tired, but real. "That's one way to put it."
He leaned back against the wall and let his body adjust to the sensation of gravity. The hum of systems. The warmth of filtered air. And beneath it all, the AI — smarter, more capable, maybe more aware.
The Prospector's Dagger was still a broken husk, floating silent in the stars.
But for the first time, Kael Verrick wasn't just surviving.
He was recovering.