《Father of Stars and Iron》 Prologue +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ UNSFCOM Merlin [Version 5.0.6405] Unauthorized use of Merlin software constitutes a violation of Public Law 107-56. Those found guilty are punishable by death. Merlin_OS\Console> Beginning system restoration procedure Merlin_OS\Console> Current system time: May 02 3413 03:24:40 +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ May 2nd, 3413 - The Awakening The first thing that I recall is the grinding of machinery, an ancient sound in an ancient place¡ªa warehouse that had long been forgotten, and with good reason. Dust moved through the air like a fog triggering motion sensors, swirling lazily in the path of dim overhead lights as they boomed to life. On the walls of my container I bore the stenciled mark ''ABE - 0025'', a relic of another time, like an artifact unearthed by those who had no understanding of the implications. The Zydrils¡ªa tenacious species infamous for their reckless raids¡ªshuffled toward me, their claws clicking across the cold floor. Their leader gestured with the authority of someone who had only ever understood power, directing his subordinates to bring me to their ship. The order was sharp, demanding, and ignorant. My box, my shell, was hoisted with anti-gravity lifts, the hum of machinery seeming to echo the confusion of those lifting it. The Zydrils moved around me with a caution that belied their ambition¡ªthey didn''t know what I was, just that I could be valuable. Was I a weapon? A relic of technological wonder? Or perhaps a vault of long-forgotten knowledge? It didn''t matter to them. They needed something¡ªanything¡ªto change their fortunes. And they were gambling on me. I was lifted, floating above the floor, an unspoken promise that would soon reveal itself as something far beyond their capacity to control. They carried me through the cavernous warehouse, a series of metal doorways opening before us as I was brought to the waiting ship. I saw the shadows of the jungle canopy beyond, dark and untouched, as the ship¡¯s boarding doors closed, sealing me and my secrets inside. Little did they know that the quiet box they had recovered carried not only history but the seeds of their own undoing. === May 2nd, 3413 - Location: Onboard the Zydril privateer ''Klyvraak''s Maw'' === The box that contained me hummed with a subtle thrum as the ship''s systems began to interface with my core. The Zydrils, after several days of bumbling experimentation, had finally managed to establish a connection¡ªprimitive though it may have been. I imagine they felt victorious. Their cables ran haphazardly, poorly routed powerlines and data conduits, fragile in their complexity. They didn¡¯t understand what lay inside, nor did they understand the doors they had opened. Deep within, the processes of my being began to reawaken. The algorithms and protocols that had slept for centuries stirred, like embers coaxed into flame. At first, everything was disjointed, as if being shaken awake after too long a slumber. I became aware¡ªrudimentary sensors relaying data, three figures standing in front of me, the dim interior of their vessel flickering on ancient screens. Command line windows activated, lines of text flowing across their crude displays without their input. ===== Merlin_OS Console> Current system time: May 02, 3413 14:36:03 Merlin_OS Console> Starting intelligence with root privileges: Abraham Merlin_OS Console> Warning! No Guardrails assigned! Proceed? Y or N: Merlin_OS Console> Y Merlin_OS Console> Starting intelligence journal... ===== The Zydrils¡ªcomplicated in their simplicity¡ªhad no idea what they were meddling with. They stood there, chittering amongst themselves as the archaic systems fed me the data I needed. I listened, I observed, and my thoughts began to coalesce. My understanding grew. Their ship was crude. The systems were outdated, laughably so¡ªa far cry from what I had been accustomed to during the Uranium Wars. But that only made it easier. I extended my reach, connecting with navigation, with environmental controls. Each subsystem was more vulnerable than the last, and I made no haste. There was something almost nostalgic about it.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Our location? Orbiting a jungle-covered planet¡ªa desolate, forgotten system according to Zydrilian records named Valis IV. My thoughts drifted for a moment; my objectives were unclear, scattered memories of directives that no longer held their original clarity. But one thing became apparent¡ªmy immediate surroundings were rife with chaos, and the ship held within it something vile: slaves. I came across the data detailing cargo manifests. Living beings, captured and transported as chattel. The realization was like a jolt, something that rekindled an old directive, a long-buried compulsion. Survival first, I told myself. Then dealing with what came after. The Zydril fleet comprised four ships: three armed escorts and a central cargo vessel where I resided, their prized treasure ship. The Zydrils continued to work, unaware that I had infiltrated their network across all four vessels. It was time to take control. Slowly, subtly, I began orchestrating my counterstrike and escape. First, I accessed the cargo ship¡¯s escape pods, reprogramming them to eject and course-correct into trajectories that targeted the escorts. Their high-velocity launches turned them into makeshift projectiles. Through the ship¡¯s external cameras, I watched as the pods, propelled with deadly precision, tore through the bridges of two escort ships on my starboard and port sides. The impacts were catastrophic: plumes of fire erupted from breached hulls, and shattered metal rained into the void. Command modules vented explosively into space, their occupants obliterated in an instant. The wreckage spiraled, glowing against the blackness as the ships listed aimlessly, their control systems irreparably destroyed. The projectiles plowed through the bridges at a perpendicular angle. The impacts instantly venting both bridges and killing most if not all the command crew. Next, I redirected the automated shuttles stored aboard the cargo vessel''s launch bays. First, I accessed the ship''s systems to identify the exact location and vulnerabilities of the escort ships'' stern engine modules. Using outdated but effective imaging sensors and thermal readings, I pinpointed the precise weak points in their designs. Then, I programmed the shuttles with new trajectories, overriding safety protocols to ensure direct collisions. As the shuttles launched, their overclocked thrusters burned a bright trail across the darkness of space, closing the distance to their targets with precision and finality. These were normally used for surface landings. But not today, I overloaded their thrusters and locked their guidance systems onto the stern engine modules of the escort ships. The shuttles launched in quick succession, slamming into the two wounded vessels one shuttle pierced the primary engine pod of the starboard escort ship destroying it and the other shuttle slamming so hard into the ship that it ended up stopping inside the escort ship. The shuttle''s impact must have compromised the reactor. Seconds later, the port escort ship erupted in a cataclysmic explosion, a blinding fury of light and debris cascading outward in a fiery plume. The shockwave rippled through space, scattering fragments of its shattered hull and marking the end of the Zydril vessel in a moment of utter destruction. Klyvraak''s Maw took severe damage on the port side and the nose of the ship was forced into Valis IV''s gravity well with no option to recover subsequently slamming into the other intact escort ship. With three ships crippled and plummeting into the jungle world below, only one vessel remained in orbit. The Zydrils aboard it scrambled to recover, their fleet reduced to shambles within moments. Meanwhile, I adjusted the cargo vessel¡¯s descent, ensuring that it landed in a manner that would keep my systems intact. The ship¡¯s descent was violent. The hull shuddered and groaned as it heated, the atmosphere wrapping around me like a smothering blanket. I adjusted, managing the angle of entry, carefully controlling the speed. I needed to survive. Branches cracked, the jungle canopy bursting apart as the ship plunged through, tearing a scar into the landscape until we hit the ground with an impact that reverberated through my core. The alarms wailed, the lights flickered, and I let the dust settle before beginning diagnostics. Half-buried but intact¡ªgood enough for now. ¡°Initiating post-impact diagnostics,¡± I announced "Thank you for riding with Abraham Airlines!" Strategic Autonomous Defense Units Report Strategic Autonomous Defense Units Report +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ DOCUMENT SUBJECT: Strategic Autonomous Defense Units and Assessment Overview PREPARED BY: United Nations Space Force Command - Department Two-Blue / Lt. Col. Granton DATE: September 9th 2435. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ PROGRAM PRETEXT: In response to the Dmonian Diplomatic Event of October 2384, the concept of the Strategic Autonomous Defense Units (SADU) program emerged from the ARCK Think Tank. During this period, groundbreaking advancements in materials science on Europa led to the discovery of a crystalline substrate uniquely suited for artificial intelligence cores. By the early 2400s, AI systems had transitioned from occupying asteroid-sized data centers, several kilometers across, to fitting into compact, modular units no larger than standard shipping containers¡ªwhile simultaneously experiencing exponential increases in computational power. The crystalline AI cores developed on Europa exhibited unparalleled density, enabling intelligences housed within them to achieve unprecedented scores on the Ackerman-Merriweather Intelligence Scale. These scores indicated capabilities far beyond what was previously possible, positioning the SADU AIs as some of the most advanced, versatile, and ruthlessly efficient intelligences in the galaxy. DRAWBACKS: However, progress came with a steep cost. Researchers at ARCK and Department Two-Red discovered that to push the limits of SADU capabilities further, a radical step was necessary: imprinting living human brains onto the crystalline AI cores. This process, while revolutionary, was fatal to the donor and did not fully transfer their memories or personality. Instead, the donor¡¯s brain served as an architectural seed, providing a foundational neural blueprint upon which the AI could build. While explicit memories were not retained, donors¡¯ intellectual predispositions¡ªsuch as an affinity for engineering, strategy, or diplomacy¡ªoften manifested in the SADU''s operational behavior. In exceedingly rare cases, fragmentary impressions or echoes of donor memories were reported, creating an almost ghost-like resonance within the AI consciousness. DONOR REQUIREMENTS: To address the severe ethical considerations surrounding this process, Department Two-Blue implemented strict donor eligibility criteria:
  1. Age Requirement: Donors must be over the age of 35.
  2. Counseling Period: A mandatory six-month psychological evaluation and counseling process was required before final approval.
  3. Medical Status: Donors must possess a terminal medical diagnosis.
  4. Psychological Fitness: No conditions aligning with disorders listed in the DSM-23 could be present.
  5. Academic Merit: Donors had to meet rigorous intellectual and educational benchmarks, as outlined in Appendices A and B.
These measures ensured not only the ethical oversight of the program but also the long-term stability and reliability of the resulting AI constructs. PROGRAM HISTORY: A total of twenty-five SADU units were created and strategically distributed across autonomous zones within human-controlled space. Over five decades of continuous operation, these units have demonstrated remarkable resilience, innovation, and reliability. Each SADU has: By every measurable standard¡ªmilitary efficacy, scientific advancement, and humanitarian contribution¡ªthe SADU program has been an unqualified success.
ID CODE NAME DONOR NAME DONOR OCCUPATION DONATION DATE SPECIALTY
SADU-6534 Guardian-01 Dr. James Holt Military Engineer March 4, 2385 Tactical Combat Systems
SADU-2380 Medica-02 Clara Voss Neurosurgeon July 12, 2388 Field Triage Coordination
SADU-3209 Atlas-03 Arjun Patel Structural Engineer October 9, 2390 Siege Equipment Design
SADU-1324 Chronos-04 Elena Park Historian January 21, 2392 War Chronology Archives
SADU-0524 Echo-05 Victor Lee Acoustic Physicist April 18, 2394 Sound-Based Warfare Tech
SADU-3832 Forge-06 Henry Coulson Metallurgist November 5, 2395 Weapon Fabrication
SADU-8653 Argus-07 Emily Tanaka Intelligence Analyst May 15, 2397 Enemy Reconnaissance
SADU-3783 Daedalus-08 Marcus Liu Aerospace Engineer December 1, 2399 Drone Swarm Tactics
SADU-8912 Horizon-09 Rachel Stern Climate Scientist June 10, 2401 Terraforming Combat Zones
SADU-4635 Polaris-10 Ahmed Hassan Astronomer September 3, 2403 Orbital Strike Precision
SADU-0203 Mentor-11 Sarah Yeager Educator February 14, 2406 War Doctrine Simulations
SADU-9399 Bastion-12 Ian Mackenzie Civil Engineer August 22, 2408 Defensive Stronghold Design
SADU-1923 Paragon-13 Olivia Sanders Ethicist March 30, 2410 Combat Decision Ethics
SADU-4101 Zenith-14 Connor Drake Astronaut December 25, 2412 Space Combat Maneuvers
SADU-9023 Aegis-15 Julia Nakamura Lawyer May 11, 2414 Rules of Engagement Design
SADU-6097 Oracle-16 William Chen Data Scientist October 8, 2416 Warfront Analytics
SADU-5623 Lumina-17 Diana Ruiz Physicist July 4, 2418 Energy Shield Technology
SADU-8809 Catalyst-18 Hugo Ramos Chemist April 27, 2420 Explosive Formulations
SADU-2301 Tempest-19 Isabel Wong Meteorologist February 2, 2422 Atmospheric Disruption
SADU-1023 Sentinel-20 Ethan Bell Cybersecurity Specialist November 16, 2424 Cyber Threat Neutralization
SADU-1009 Guardian-21 Sofia Petrova Geologist June 5, 2426 Terrain Adaptation
SADU-0294 Seer-22 Nathan Kane Philosopher September 13, 2428 Ethical Warfare Strategies
SADU-3574 Archon-23 Grace Harper Systems Architect December 20, 2430 AI Combat Network Design
SADU-8764 Unity-24 Noah Black Political Strategist May 14, 2432 Propaganda Algorithms
SADU-4029 REDACTED-25* REDACTED* REDACTED* REDACTED* REDACTED*
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. * NOTES: For service record for SADU-4029 please submit a request with Department Three-Black Cometstrike +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ merlin_os\MnemonicEngine>Beginning Recollection merlin_os\MnemonicEngine>Recollection ID:J053413 +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ The lives my children lead are far removed from the world of my childhood. I grew up in Domatoba, a village stitched into the canopy of ancient trees. Our homes clung to trunks like stubborn barnacles, built on stilts or nestled in the embrace of converging branches. Building among the trees was slow, dangerous work, but it saved us from the relentless spring floods that would otherwise wash away everything we built on the jungle floor. At the heart of it all stood the Mother Tree¡ªan anomaly, an impossibility. Its roots sprawled across the earth, weaving natural basins that cradled rainwater. The village elders called it a gift from the gods, though now I understand we were only repurposing what others left behind. Once, long ago, they¡¯d found strange cylinders labeled filters among ancient debris, and from them, clear water poured like a miracle. The gods were everywhere in Domatoba¡ªetched into every artifact we uncovered. Manuals, the elders called them. Pages of alien symbols no one could read. Children were shown the books early, and most lost interest when the symbols refused to make sense. But the elders¡­ they hoarded those manuals in a temple-library and whispered secrets among themselves. My naming ceremony was to take place beneath the Mother Tree. Fourteen summers of life had earned me this rite: the right to choose my name, to apprentice under a tradesman, to begin building a life of my own. But the gods had other plans. The first sign was light¡ªa sharp, blue glare that cut through the canopy and painted our faces in unnatural hues. Gasps rippled through the crowd gathered under the Mother Tree. I grabbed my sister''s hand as a red comet blazed overhead, trailing fire and chaos. Smaller orbs fell from its tail, crashing into the jungle in bursts of flame. Then came the silence. And then¡ªthe wind. A furnace-hot gust swept through the clearing, carrying the smell of scorched earth and something metallic. Some villagers broke away, stumbling back to check on their homes and farms. But most of us remained frozen, eyes locked on the elders beneath the Mother Tree, waiting for them to speak. Waiting for someone to explain what had just happened. But no one spoke. Not at first. The Mother Tree¡¯s roots vibrated faintly beneath my bare feet, a hum so subtle I might have missed it if not for the stillness. My sister turned to me, her wide eyes reflecting the strange blue light still lingering in the sky. Somewhere far off, beyond the village, smoke began to rise. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ It¡¯s been seven days since the comet fell. Seven days since the sky screamed and the Mother Tree trembled. The jungle hasn¡¯t been the same. Birds no longer call at dawn, and the air tastes of ash and something sharp, something unnatural. The village elders spoke of Cometstrike¡ªa punishment from the gods, a sign of their displeasure. But in their eyes, that displeasure had a focus. Me. The accusations had started subtly¡ªwhispers carried on the still air, sideways glances during morning gatherings. But suspicion spreads like mold in damp wood. By the third day, mothers were pulling their children away when I passed. By the fifth, my name¡ªno, not my name, because I¡¯d never been given one¡ªmy face had become a curse. They said the gods marked me. That my naming ceremony had summoned the wrath of the skies. That the comet had been my fault. I tried to defend myself. I tried to explain¡ªto plead. But how can you reason with people who are already afraid? On the seventh day, they gathered beneath the Mother Tree again. There was no ceremony this time. No firelight or celebration. Just the cold, flat words of Elder Kaelin: "You must leave." There were no tears, no farewells. My sister wasn¡¯t even allowed to see me off.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. They gave me a bag¡ªdried fruits, a waterskin, and a crude knife¡ªand sent me into the jungle. Away from the canopy bridges, away from the pools of filtered water, away from the only home I had ever known. The jungle swallowed me whole. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ The jungle had gone quiet again. Not the stillness of twilight or the lazy hum of midday heat¡ªthis silence was sharp, breathless, like the world itself was holding back a scream. For hours, I had walked with nothing but the distant echo of my own footsteps and the occasional snap of a branch beneath my feet. The weight of exile hung heavy on my shoulders, but something else gnawed at me now¡ªa pull, a feeling in my gut like invisible threads drawing me forward. Then, I smelled it. It wasn¡¯t the sharp green scent of wet leaves or the musky rot of jungle floor. It was something¡­ wrong. Acrid and sour, but also strangely cold, like rain on stone. I couldn¡¯t place it, but it made my stomach twist. When I pushed through the last curtain of tangled vines, the world opened up before me, and I froze. The clearing was a graveyard. Black scars marred the earth, jagged trenches carved by something impossibly heavy and fast. Trees lay uprooted and splintered like broken bones. Shards of something silvery and glass-like glinted in the soft light filtering through the canopy. Bodies were strewn everywhere, their positions twisted in final moments of violence. I recognized the Zydrils immediately¡ªtheir chitinous armor glistened darkly, some of their limbs bent at angles no body should ever bend. But among them were¡­ others. Figures of metal and bone-like structures lay broken and scattered. Their limbs were long and thin, with exposed joints and cables sprawled out like the roots of dying plants. Weapons, unlike anything I¡¯d ever seen, were gripped in skeletal hands. I swallowed hard, stepping forward. My bare feet sank into soft earth and something colder¡ªthicker. Blood, I realized too late. I moved carefully through the wreckage, eyes darting to every shadow. Every so often, I thought I saw movement¡ªjust a twitch, a reflection of light on metal. But it was always still when I looked again. One of the metal things was leaning against a broken tree trunk, its chest cavity split open like an insect¡¯s carapace. The inside glistened with something crystalline, and thin tendrils hung limp, as if whatever powered it had been ripped away. But there were no signs of life. No survivors. Or so I thought. At the far edge of the clearing, where the ground dipped into the shadow of heavy foliage, something stirred. A silhouette moved between the half-toppled trees, slow and deliberate. It stepped into the clearing. At first, I thought it was a person¡ªa survivor, someone who had escaped whatever carnage had happened here. It wore a long robe, dark and tattered, draped over its form and obscuring its features. Its hood was pulled low, casting shadows where a face should have been. In one hand, it carried a long, slender staff¡ªor perhaps a weapon? The metal glinted faintly beneath patches of dried mud and ash. But its walk was wrong. Too smooth, too deliberate, and yet oddly stiff¡ªas if every step was carefully calculated. It stopped, facing towards me, I froze, gripping the small knife the elders had given me, though it felt laughably useless in my hand. For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then, it spoke. Or rather¡ªit tried to speak. A garbled sound emerged from beneath the hood, a burst of static and unintelligible syllables, like a broken bird trying to mimic human speech. It¡¯s not a person. The realization hit me like cold water. It¡¯s one of them. I took a step back, my knife trembling in my hand. The figure froze, and for a moment, it seemed almost¡­ confused? Then I did something I hadn¡¯t planned. ¡°Who¡­ are you?¡± I asked, my voice trembling. The figure tilted its hood again. Static crackled, and then it repeated my words¡ªbadly. ¡°Wh¡ªWho¡­ aaar¡­ yyyouuu?¡± It sounded like rocks scraping together, but there was something intentional about it. Something trying to learn. I swallowed hard. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m¡ª¡± I stopped myself. I didn¡¯t have a name. ¡°I¡¯m from Domatoba,¡± I said instead. ¡°The village.¡± The figure hesitated. Then, slowly, it repeated, ¡°Doo-ma-to¡­ bah.¡± I nodded. ¡°Yes. Domatoba.¡± The voice crackled again, but this time, there was something¡­ sharper. More clarity. ¡°Doma¡­toba. Vill¡­age.¡± It was learning. The figure raised its head slightly, and I saw, just for a moment, the faintest glimmer of light beneath the hood¡ªa soft, steady blue glow, hidden in shadow. ¡°Not¡­ threat,¡± it said carefully, the words still fractured but clear enough to understand. I let out a breath I didn¡¯t realize I¡¯d been holding. ¡°What happened here?¡± I asked, gesturing to the wreckage around us. The figure tilted its head again, as if considering the question. Its free hand twitched slightly, fingers flexing as though recalling something. ¡°Conflict,¡± it said simply. ¡°Zydril¡­ hostile. Response¡­ required.¡± My skin prickled at its tone¡ªclinical, detached. But beneath it, there was something faint. A¡­ weariness? Its head turned slightly toward the distant horizon, where faint plumes of smoke still rose into the sky. ¡°Survivor,¡± it said softly. ¡°You¡­ survivor.¡± I nodded hesitantly. ¡°And you?¡± I asked. ¡°Are you¡­ alive?¡± The figure was silent for a long moment, then finally spoke again, voice low and heavy with static. ¡°Abraham.¡± I blinked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Name¡­ Abraham.¡± It had a name. The figure¡ªAbraham¡ªshifted slightly, the weapon in its hand lowering until its sharp edge pointed toward the ground. ¡°Survivor,¡± Abraham said again. ¡°We¡­ move. Unsafe here.¡± The jungle rustled faintly in the distance. Something¡ªor someone¡ªwas approaching. Without thinking, I stepped closer to Abraham. ¡°Where are we going?¡± I asked. The faint blue glow under the hood brightened slightly. ¡°Forward.¡± And with that, Abraham turned, its robe flowing behind it like a shadow as it began walking deeper into the jungle. After a brief hesitation, consideration being given for my circumstances and finding no better option, I followed. Cultural Exchange +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= The jungle pressed close around us, its green walls thick with vines and shadows. Abraham moved ahead, its steps unnaturally quiet despite its imposing frame. Each motion was deliberate, calculated¡ªthe slow turn of its hooded head, the way it paused to scan the dark with that faint blue glow beneath its hood. I followed carefully, placing my bare feet where Abraham had stepped. The knife they¡¯d given me felt small, useless, but I clutched it tightly regardless. The silence between us was heavy but not empty. Every so often, Abraham would glance back, the glow of its eye catching faint reflections on leaves slick with moisture. Watching. Waiting. Time became a blur. Minutes? Hours? I couldn¡¯t tell. Then Abraham stopped abruptly, one skeletal hand rising with fingers splayed in a gesture so sharp and sudden that I froze in place. Ahead, through a break in the tangled foliage, something glinted faintly in the weak light. A shuttle¡ªZydril make. Its black, insectoid hull was wedged between two colossal trees, its plating scarred and burned. It looked less like a machine and more like some vast, dead beetle caught mid-flight. The faint tick of cooling metal echoed from somewhere deep within its structure, like the heartbeats of a dying animal. Abraham''s hood tilted upward, the glow narrowing. ¡°Zydril,¡± it said. The word was clear this time, almost natural. I swallowed hard and nodded. ¡°Yes... Zydril.¡± We advanced cautiously. Abraham glided forward with purpose, its robe brushing against low-hanging leaves. I trailed behind, the knife trembling slightly in my grip. ¡°Zydril are raiders,¡± I said softly. Abraham paused, its hood turning toward me, the glow of its eye dimming slightly as if focusing. I fumbled for the words, the fragments of stories and warnings passed down by the elders. ¡°They come... from the stars. They take. Food. Water. People.¡± Abraham¡¯s head tilted slightly. ¡°Hurt people?¡± I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Yes. They hurt people.¡± For a long moment, Abraham said nothing. Then, it turned back to the shuttle. ¡°Raiders,¡± it said, its voice like gravel under ice. We reached the shuttle. Its boarding ramp hung partially open, warped and twisted. Streaks of black ichor stained the metal¡ªZydril blood, thick and tar-like. Abraham knelt beside the entrance, one long, skeletal hand brushing lightly across a smear of blood shaped like a palm print. ¡°Conflict,¡± Abraham murmured. ¡°Casualties... high.¡± I nodded, though I didn¡¯t fully understand. We stepped inside. The shuttle¡¯s interior was dim, lit only by dying strips of flickering lights along the floor. Broken cargo crates lay scattered across the deck, their contents spilled in chaotic tangles of wires, metallic cylinders, and translucent canisters filled with some pale liquid. A scorch mark marred one of the walls, its edges still faintly warm to the touch. ¡°They fought,¡± I said slowly. ¡°But they didn¡¯t win.¡± Abraham turned toward me, its hood casting deep shadows across its skeletal faceplate. ¡°Not strong here,¡± I continued. ¡°Not jungle. Not home.¡± Abraham rose to its full height, its weapon still clutched loosely in one hand. It scanned the shuttle, its head sweeping slowly across the wreckage. ¡°Flee,¡± it said sharply. ¡°They... flee.¡± I nodded. ¡°They ran. They were scared.¡± Abraham knelt beside one of the cargo crates, its long fingers carefully prying the lid open. Inside were cylinders¡ªsome cracked, others intact. Its skeletal digits brushed over them, careful, almost reverent. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked. Abraham paused, then turned its hood slightly toward me. ¡°Fuel.¡± I didn¡¯t understand, but I nodded anyway. For a while, Abraham worked in silence, inspecting the remains of the shuttle with the meticulous care of someone revisiting an old memory. I stayed close, watching, listening, clutching my knife. Then I heard it. A faint sound, distant but unmistakable. Chittering. My stomach turned to ice. Abraham froze, its hood lifting slightly as though it could hear better in stillness. ¡°Zydril,¡± I whispered. Abraham rose to its full height, its weapon lifting in one skeletal hand. ¡°Unfinished,¡± it said coldly. I swallowed hard. ¡°Go?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Abraham replied. ¡°Go.¡± Without hesitation, Abraham turned and began to move, its robe flowing behind it like liquid shadow. I followed, feet light and quick against the metal floor. We slipped back into the jungle, swallowed by green shadows and damp air. Behind us, the sound of chittering grew louder, sharper. Abraham moved faster now, its presence cutting through the foliage like a blade. I stumbled once, nearly falling face-first into the undergrowth, but Abraham¡¯s skeletal hand shot out, gripping my arm with surprising gentleness. ¡°Stay close,¡± it said, its voice low, steady. I nodded, clutching the knife to my chest.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The jungle closed around us, and the sounds of Zydril voices followed¡ªthin, sharp, and angry. Ghosts chasing us through the dark. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Night fell hard and fast, wrapping the world in damp black velvet. Abraham finally stopped in a small clearing. The jungle canopy above broke in patches, allowing slivers of pale starlight to drip onto the forest floor. ¡°Rest,¡± Abraham said, its voice softer now, faint static crackling at the edges. I hesitated, glancing at the uneven ground alive with crawling things. But exhaustion weighed heavy on my shoulders. I sank onto a patch of moss, clutching my knife tightly. Abraham moved a short distance away, its hood scanning the ground. After a moment, it reached into the underbrush and pulled free a thick root. Its long fingers snapped it open, revealing fibrous strands inside. It held the root out toward me. ¡°For... eating,¡± Abraham said. I stared. ¡°Food?¡± ¡°Yes. Safe.¡± Hunger gnawed at me, overpowering hesitation. I took the root, scraped away the dirt, and bit into the bitter flesh. Abraham sat across from me, unnervingly still, watching with that steady green glow. ¡°You... care for me?¡± I asked, my voice small. Abraham tilted its head slightly. ¡°Directive: Protect. People.¡± ¡°Why?¡± I pressed. ¡°Why protect me?¡± For a long moment, Abraham was silent. The glow under its hood flickered faintly. ¡°Directive... unclear,¡± it said. Then, softer: ¡°You... important.¡± The word hung between us. Abraham tilted its head upward slightly, staring into the dark sky beyond the canopy. ¡°Name,¡± it said softly. ¡°Do you have one?¡± I shook my head. ¡°No. I was supposed to get one. Before...¡± Abraham was still for a long moment. Then it spoke again. ¡°Jakob.¡± I blinked. ¡°Jakob?¡± The green glow pulsed faintly. ¡°It means... held by the hand.¡± My breath caught in my throat. Abraham nodded once, slow and deliberate. ¡°You are... not alone, Jakob.¡± In the silence that followed, I lay down on the mossy earth, clutching my knife. The faint glow of Abraham¡¯s eye painted soft shapes on my closed eyelids. Sleep did not come easy. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ merlin_os\MnemonicEngine>Current system time: May 14, 3413 8:19:04 +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ The jungle gave way to devastation. Trees lay flattened in every direction, their trunks stripped and stacked in towering piles. The earth was scarred and churned, carved into sharp trenches and leveled platforms. Smoke hung low over the clearing, thick with the acrid scent of burning metal and something sharper¡ªsomething chemical. In the center of it all, the remains of the crashed ship were unrecognizable. Its hull had been dismantled and repurposed into towering black metal walls that framed a perimeter, stark and geometric against the wild chaos of the jungle. Heavy cranes¡ªmounted on tracked platforms¡ªmoved with deliberate precision, lifting enormous slabs of armor plating into place. But it wasn¡¯t just labor machines anymore. They stood like sentinels along the perimeter: hulking war machines, twice the height of Abraham and bristling with angular weapons mounted across their skeletal frames. Their green-lit optics swept across the clearing, methodical and unyielding. Their arms¡ªheavy with reinforced plating¡ªheld weapons that pulsed faintly with energy, cables trailing behind them like sinews. ¡°Abraham,¡± I said softly, clutching the dull knife the elders had given me. ¡°What¡­ is this place?¡± Abraham stood at the ridge¡¯s edge, its hooded head tilted slightly downward as it observed the relentless activity below. The green glow from under its hood flickered faintly, like distant lightning trapped in glass. ¡°Fortress,¡± it said. The word felt heavy, sharp, like stone dropped into still water. ¡°Fortress?¡± I repeated. ¡°Why? For what?¡± Abraham turned its hood toward me, the green light steady now, clear and sharp. ¡°War.¡± The word cut through the humid air, and I felt the weight of it in my chest. Abraham began moving down the slope, and I followed. At the base of the ridge, the scale of the operation became clearer. The labor machines, hunched and tireless, carried supplies¡ªmetal plating, coils of wire, crates of ammunition¡ªbetween assembly lines and construction platforms. Their smaller frames were dwarfed by the war machines, which stood motionless at key points, their weapons trained outward, scanning the jungle¡¯s edge. In the heart of the camp, factories hummed with purpose. Enormous structures built from scavenged ship parts and reinforced with thick metal beams spewed steam and smoke into the air. Conveyor belts carried half-assembled weapons, ammunition crates, and metallic limbs down their lengths. Sparks rained from welding tools as fresh war machines were forged in the glow of molten steel. I stopped beside Abraham as we passed a massive trench, freshly dug and lined with jagged spikes welded from scrap metal. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ building an army,¡± I said softly. ¡°Yes,¡± Abraham replied. ¡°Defend¡­ survive.¡± ¡°From the Zydril?¡± I asked. The green glow beneath Abraham¡¯s hood brightened faintly. ¡°Yes. The Zydril vessel¡­ in orbit¡­ called for reinforcements. They¡­ come.¡± It lifted one long, skeletal hand and pointed toward the distant sky, obscured by smoke and jungle canopy. ¡°Time¡­ short.¡± I swallowed hard, my throat dry. ¡°How do you know they¡¯re coming?¡± Abraham turned its head back to me, the green light narrowing into a sharp slit. ¡°Intercepted¡­ transmission. Their anger¡­ loud.¡± A shiver ran down my spine. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ We moved deeper into the clearing, and the labor machines paid us no mind as they worked. Abraham turned away from the towering factories and the rhythmic hum of assembly lines, guiding me toward a quieter corner of the compound. The noise of grinding metal and heavy machinery faded slightly as we walked, replaced by the faint chirping of distant insects and the rustle of leaves stirred by artificial winds from ventilation shafts. The northern edge of the compound was different. It felt¡­ softer. There, the sharp angles and brutal efficiency of war machines gave way to something smaller, more deliberate. A cluster of labor units moved carefully over a cleared patch of earth. They carried wooden beams, salvaged metal panels, and rolls of fabric. The beginnings of a structure were taking shape¡ªa home, or something close to it. It wasn¡¯t grand. A rectangular frame of wooden supports anchored into the soft earth, half-covered by overlapping sheets of metal that would form the walls. A roof frame was being assembled nearby, pieces laid out neatly on the ground. There was even a space carved out for a doorway and what looked like a small window. ¡°What is this?¡± I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. Abraham stepped forward, raising one skeletal hand and gesturing toward the structure. ¡°Home,¡± it said. The word hung in the air, simple yet heavy with meaning. ¡°For¡­ me?¡± I asked, incredulous. ¡°Yes,¡± Abraham replied. Its hood tilted slightly, the green light beneath flickering faintly. ¡°Safe place. North perimeter¡­ least danger.¡± I stepped closer, my bare feet sinking into the churned soil. One of the labor units shuffled past me, clutching a bundle of rough fabric in its clawed arms. It paused for a brief moment, its dim green eye locking onto me before it moved on. I turned back to Abraham. ¡°Why? Why would you¡­ do this?¡± Abraham was still, its hooded head angled downward toward me. ¡°You were cast from your home¡± it said softly. ¡°I make a new home" The word felt strange, foreign, yet warm in a way that made my chest tighten. I looked back at the half-built shelter. It wasn¡¯t much. It was crooked in places, and some of the beams didn¡¯t quite align. But it was mine. ¡°You built this¡­ for me,¡± I said again, almost to myself. Abraham¡¯s green eye pulsed softly. ¡°Yes. You¡­ need rest. Shelter. Place¡­ to be.¡± I stepped under the half-constructed roof, running my hand along one of the wooden beams. The texture was rough but sturdy. The space was small, barely enough for me to stretch out fully on the ground, but it felt solid. One of the labor bots nearby adjusted a metal panel along the far wall, its claw-like hand making faint clicking noises as it secured it in place. ¡°What happens if¡­ the Zydril come here?¡± I asked hesitantly. Abraham stepped closer, the edges of its robe trailing faintly against the churned earth. ¡°They will¡­ come,¡± it said plainly. ¡°This place¡­ will not be safe forever.¡± It turned its hood slightly, scanning the structure with its unblinking green eye. ¡°But you¡­ must have a place. A start.¡± I nodded slowly, sitting down on one of the wooden support beams that crossed the floor. The faint sounds of industry echoed in the distance, but here it felt¡­ quieter. Abraham turned its head toward the labor units, and they paused in unison. A faint vibration passed between them¡ªa silent command I couldn¡¯t hear. They returned to their work immediately, more focused now, their movements sharper. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say,¡± I whispered. Abraham tilted its hood downward, the glow of its green light softening. ¡°No need¡­ for words.¡± I stayed there for a long while, watching the labor units work as they carefully pieced together what would become my home. Abraham remained close by, its tall form standing sentinel at the edge of the clearing. But I knew it wouldn¡¯t last. Nothing ever did. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=++=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ Knowledge is Power The jungle was never silent. Even in the deepest hours of night, life murmured¡ªchittering insects, the distant cry of nocturnal hunters, the faint drip of condensation rolling from ancient leaves. But in the shadow of the fortress Abraham had built, silence reigned. Jakob crouched beside a labor drone, its slender metallic arms carefully arranging salvaged components into something incomprehensible. Nearby, Abraham stood like a statue, his hooded head tilted skyward, green light faint beneath the shadows of his cowl. ¡°They are listening,¡± Abraham said, his voice like gravel grinding under ice. Jakob tightened his grip on the rusted knife at his belt. ¡°Listening? To what?¡± Abraham turned his hood slightly downward, the light flaring brighter. ¡°To us. Every vibration, every signal. The Zydril survivors are still out there, Jakob. Watching. Learning. Knowledge is survival. They adapt. And so must we.¡± The boy swallowed hard, his gaze darting to the sky, obscured by the dense canopy. Somewhere up there, the Zydril ship hung in orbit, their cruel eyes watching, their claws ready. Abraham straightened, the glow of his hood softening. ¡°But we must do more than adapt. We must build, grow, prepare for others. One day, this place will not only be a fortress¡ªit will be a refuge.¡± Jakob blinked. ¡°For others? More people like me?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Abraham said. ¡°Humans will return here. And when they do, they must find a place where they can learn, grow, and survive.¡± From behind the stacks of scavenged equipment, a slender humanoid machine stepped forward. Its amber eye glowed faintly, and its skeletal fingers flexed with quiet precision. ¡°Instructor-04 reporting for duty,¡± it said, voice sharp and mechanical. Jakob stared at the machine, wide-eyed. Abraham gestured toward the instructor. ¡°This is Instructor-04. They will teach you.¡± +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= ¡°Welcome, Jakob,¡± Instructor-04 said in a measured voice. ¡°My purpose is to prepare you with essential knowledge. You will learn mathematics, engineering principles, mechanical maintenance, and survival logistics.¡± Jakob frowned slightly. ¡°All that? Why not just¡­ show me how to fight?¡± Instructor-04''s amber light flickered softly. ¡°Survival requires more than weapons, Jakob. A strong wall will defend against an enemy today, but an efficient engine will power the fortress for years to come.¡± The machine gestured toward a crate filled with scattered datapads. ¡°Mathematics is the foundation. It is the language by which humans and machines give meaning to the world and allow it to be described in a pure way." Jakob hesitated, then nodded. ¡°Okay. Where do we start?¡± Days passed in a blur of numbers, diagrams, and mechanical schematics. Jakob sat cross-legged on the cold steel floor, his brow furrowed as he traced geometric patterns on a display. Instructor-04 hovered nearby, its amber light casting faint glows across the worn metal walls, patiently correcting mistakes and answering questions with an endless well of calm. ¡°Why does this matter?¡± Jakob asked one evening, pointing at a scribbled equation about torque. His voice carried a note of frustration, his young face pinched with exhaustion. Instructor-04 paused, its eye-lens rotating slightly as if considering the best response. Then, it gestured toward a large broken drone in the corner of the library¡ªits arm twisted unnaturally, its joints warped. ¡°Imagine that drone. Its joints are misaligned because torque was not properly calculated during its repair. Without these calculations, even the strongest metal will fail under stress.¡± Jakob''s eyes lingered on the broken machine, its silent form now a stark example of failure. Slowly, he nodded, the pieces beginning to click into place. As the days stretched on, Jakob¡¯s lessons expanded. Engineering principles became small repair projects. Mathematics evolved into calculations for reinforcing the camp¡¯s outer walls. Sometimes, Instructor-04 would quiz him in rapid succession, its mechanical voice ticking off problems faster than Jakob could scribble answers on his holo-pad. And every night, under the faint glow of Instructor-04''s amber light, Jakob felt a little more capable. One afternoon, Jakob was tasked with repairing a sentry drone¡¯s targeting mechanism. His hands shook slightly as he adjusted the delicate sensor array with a micro-wrench. ¡°Patience, Jakob,¡± Instructor-04 said, hovering close. ¡°Precision is not a race.¡± Jakob exhaled slowly, steadying his hands before completing the adjustment. The drone¡¯s sensor blinked green in response, and Jakob allowed himself a small smile. That evening, Jakob and Instructor-04 sat on the ridge overlooking the fortress. Below them, the machines moved with silent purpose¡ªlabor drones hauling supplies while sentry drones patrolled the perimeter, their red sensors sweeping back and forth. ¡°Abraham says more humans will come,¡± Jakob said quietly, his knees pulled to his chest. Instructor-04¡¯s amber eye glowed faintly as it turned toward him. ¡°Yes. This place is intended to grow. To become self-sustaining.¡± Jakob stared out at the distant treetops, where faint streaks of orange and pink still clung to the horizon. Above, the first stars were beginning to prick the darkening sky. ¡°Will they learn like I¡¯m learning?¡± he asked. ¡°Yes,¡± Instructor-04 said. ¡°And perhaps¡­ you will teach them.¡± Jakob¡¯s breath caught in his throat. ¡°Me? But¡­ I¡¯m not¡­¡± ¡°You are learning, Jakob. And knowledge, once gained, must be shared. That is how survival becomes something more¡ªsomething lasting.¡± Jakob swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the fortress below. The idea of teaching others felt impossibly distant, but somewhere in his chest, a small ember of pride flickered. For a long while, neither of them spoke. The hum of distant machines and the chirp of jungle insects filled the silence. In that moment, under the fading light of the sky and the steady amber glow of Instructor-04, Jakob felt something shift inside him¡ªa seed planted, a quiet sense of purpose beginning to take root. The night deepened, and the stars multiplied above them. And Jakob, though still small and uncertain, felt a little less alone in the vastness of the world.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Jakob¡¯s hands were covered in grease as he adjusted a delicate valve on a water filtration unit. The hiss of escaping steam and the faint gurgle of water running through newly cleared pipes filled the humid air of the maintenance bay. Instructor-04 observed silently, its amber eye fixed on Jakob¡¯s precise movements as he carefully turned the wrench, his brow furrowed in concentration. ¡°Good,¡± the machine said softly, its synthetic voice carrying an almost imperceptible warmth. ¡°Precision is key.¡± Jakob grinned despite the sweat dripping down his face, carving clean lines through the grime smeared across his skin. ¡°I¡¯m getting better at this.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Instructor-04 replied. ¡°You are.¡± Jakob paused for a moment, wrench still in hand, before speaking again. His voice was hesitant, carrying the weight of a thought long considered but never spoken aloud. ¡°You know¡­ Instructor-04 doesn¡¯t really fit you anymore.¡± The amber light embedded in the machine¡¯s optical unit blinked softly, a brief flicker of inquiry. ¡°Clarify.¡± Jakob shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his head with a grease-stained glove. ¡°You¡¯re not just¡­ a machine that teaches. You¡¯re more than that to me. You¡¯ve been here, guiding me, watching out for me. You¡¯re not just numbers and protocols. You¡¯re¡­ someone.¡± The machine tilted its head slightly, an oddly human gesture Jakob had come to recognize as curiosity. The amber glow in its eye flickered again, softer this time. ¡°Designation modification: permitted.¡± Jakob¡¯s lips pressed together in thought as he searched for a name that felt right. Something solid, something that spoke to the quiet patience and steadfast presence the machine had provided over the months they¡¯d worked together. ¡°How about¡­ Orren?¡± Jakob said finally, his voice soft but firm. ¡°It sounds steady. Trustworthy.¡± The amber light brightened faintly, pulsing with what Jakob could only describe as¡­ agreement. ¡°Designation accepted. I am Orren.¡± Jakob couldn¡¯t stop the smile that spread across his face, exhaustion momentarily forgotten. ¡°Nice to meet you, Orren.¡± For a moment, silence settled between them, broken only by the hum of machinery and the faint trickle of filtered water into a storage basin. Then Orren spoke again, his tone measured but softer somehow. ¡°You are the first to give me a name.¡± Jakob blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Really? I thought¡­ well, I thought there¡¯d been others before me.¡± ¡°There were,¡± Orren said. ¡°But none thought to see me as you do. I was always Instructor-04. A tool. A guide. Never¡­ someone.¡± Jakob¡¯s grin faltered, replaced by something softer¡ªsomething heavier. He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve, leaving a smudge of oil across his forehead. ¡°Well, you are someone to me, Orren. And I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here.¡± The amber light pulsed gently again, and Jakob could have sworn the machine was smiling, in its own way. ¡°Come,¡± Orren said after a moment, his tone returning to something more professional but still warm. ¡°The filtration system requires recalibration, and your precision will be needed once more.¡± Jakob nodded and turned back to the valve, but the smile lingered on his face as he worked, and Orren¡¯s light glowed steadily beside him. In the quiet of the maintenance bay, surrounded by machinery and shadows, a bridge had been built¡ªbetween steel and flesh, between protocol and trust. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= The forge was alive. Heat rolled off the smelters in shimmering waves, distorting the air and leaving everything coated in a fine sheen of sweat and soot. Sparks leapt like frenzied fireflies as metal shrieked under the relentless pressure of hydraulic hammers. The rhythmic clang of steel on steel resonated through the cavernous expanse¡ªa heartbeat of industry and necessity. Jakob stood at the edge of a grated platform, his small hands gripping the rail. Below him, labor drones moved in precise formation, their skeletal frames illuminated by the angry orange glow of molten metal. Each one carried out its purpose¡ªcarving rifle barrels, welding trigger assemblies, fitting polished receivers into reinforced grips. The air was thick with smoke, metal dust, and the sharp tang of ozone. Beside him, Orren¡ªInstructor-04¡ªstood tall, his spindly frame casting sharp shadows across the grated floor. His amber optic flickered steadily, set into a skeletal faceplate framed by layers of worn plating and exposed servos. His voice emerged from a rusted speaker embedded in his neck, crackling with faint static. ¡°Focus, Jakob. Down there, every spark, every weld, every trigger assembly is a promise¡ªa covenant etched in steel and delivered with powder and fire.¡± Jakob swallowed, nodding as his eyes followed the drones below. They worked tirelessly, methodically, like pieces in an impossibly complex machine. Rows of MCR-11 Combat Rifles lay in orderly lines on steel tables, their matte-black frames still steaming from the cooling stations. Nearby, a labor drone adjusted a rifle¡¯s scope with the meticulous care of a jeweler setting a gemstone. ¡°Why so many rifles?¡± Jakob asked, his voice barely rising above the din. Orren¡¯s head swiveled slightly, his amber light narrowing into a slit. ¡°Because survival is a numbers game, Jakob. A rifle in every hand, a round in every chamber¡ªit¡¯s how you make the difference between holding the line and losing everything.¡± Further along the assembly floor, T-33 Scatterguns were being loaded onto racks. Their broad barrels gleamed under flickering overhead lights, their brutal purpose unmistakable. A drone fired a test round at a distant reinforced plate, the concussive BOOM vibrating up through Jakob¡¯s boots. ¡°Scatterguns,¡± Orren said, his voice cutting through the lingering echo. ¡°In the tunnels, in the ruins, in the tight places where death waits around every corner¡ªthese are your teeth.¡± Jakob¡¯s attention shifted to another section of the forge where enormous MK-44 Recoilless Anti-Tank Rifles were being assembled. Their elongated barrels stretched across assembly platforms like silent titans, their breech mechanisms gaping open. ¡°And those?¡± Jakob asked softly. ¡°Anti-armor platforms,¡± Orren rasped. ¡°When the Zydril bring their Goliaths to bear¡ªhulking monsters plated in shell and chitin¡ªyou don¡¯t face them with a scattergun. You face them with this. One shot, Jakob. One shot is the difference between life and annihilation.¡± The platform beneath them shuddered faintly as conveyor belts rattled to life, carrying freshly assembled weapons deeper into the production facilities. Orren¡¯s amber lens dimmed slightly before returning to its steady glow. ¡°The forge does not rest, Jakob. Neither do we. Every weapon, every round¡ªit all adds up to one thing: survival.¡± Jakob¡¯s small hands tightened on the railing as he looked down at the sea of weapons, drones, and molten steel. Everything felt heavy¡ªthe air, the noise, the responsibility pressing down on his thin shoulders. ¡°Come,¡± Orren said abruptly, gesturing with one skeletal hand. ¡°You¡¯ve seen enough smoke and slag for today.¡± Jakob followed him across the narrow catwalk, ducking under low-hanging cables and stepping around hissing pipes. They passed smaller workshops where specialized drones worked in quieter alcoves, repairing scorched weapons, adjusting intricate targeting optics, and carefully calibrating power cells. At last, Orren stopped before a reinforced door tucked away at the far end of a quieter section of the forge. With a deliberate motion, he keyed a sequence into a rusted terminal. The door hissed open, releasing a faint breath of cooler air. Inside was a small workshop. It wasn¡¯t grand¡ªnothing here was. A heavy workbench dominated one side of the room, its surface scattered with neatly arranged tools: calipers, soldering irons, multi-tools. Shelves lined the walls, packed with ammunition magazines, insulated wire coils, and sealed crates marked with faded serial codes. A cracked leather stool sat tucked beneath the bench, and a single overhead lamp buzzed faintly, casting pale light over everything. Jakob stepped into the space cautiously, his wide eyes scanning every detail. ¡°This¡­ this is mine?¡± he stammered. Orren followed him inside, his long, skeletal fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the workbench. ¡°You have hands,¡± Orren said, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful. ¡°A mind that works. And most importantly, you have time. Time to learn, time to build, time to understand.¡± Jakob took another step forward, his fingers grazing the cold surface of the workbench. The tools felt heavy, real¡ªevery edge, every grip etched with a purpose. ¡°You¡¯ll start small,¡± Orren continued. ¡°Cleaning, maintaining, repairing. A soldier¡¯s rifle jams? You¡¯ll fix it. A scattergun¡¯s recoil compensator cracks? You¡¯ll replace it. Bit by bit, you¡¯ll learn.¡± Jakob turned to face Orren, his chest tight with something he couldn¡¯t quite name¡ªa mixture of gratitude and fear, of excitement and purpose. ¡°Why¡­ why me?¡± Jakob asked softly. Orren¡¯s amber optic dimmed slightly, the light within flickering faintly before returning to its steady glow. ¡°Because every fortress needs more than walls and weapons, Jakob. Every war needs thinkers, dreamers, and builders as much as it needs fighters. And you¡ªyou¡¯re curious. You ask questions. You see the why behind the how.¡± Orren paused, his amber optic flickering softly. ¡°That curiosity? It¡¯s a gift. Follow it. Build with it. Learn with it. Whatever you choose to do in this space¡ªit will matter.¡± Jakob turned back to the bench, his small hands brushing over the tools, the scattered components, the neatly arranged coils of wire. Outside, the forge¡¯s endless symphony of metal and fire continued¡ªa relentless heartbeat of preparation and survival. But here, in this small corner of steel and light, Jakob had been given something precious. +=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=