Druhalith (The Season of Resilience)

Day 391

155 days since my arrival

The notification flickered in the corner of my vision, a quiet reminder that this year was nearing its end. In a few days, the cycle would renew. I’d need to adjust the implant's system later to mark the change.

For now, I turned my attention back to the modified bio-fabricator occupying the far corner of the workshop. Its surface pulsed faintly, organic matter coursing through veins that branched along its hull. Its outer layer is a blend of resin, chitin, and interwoven metal threads.

The clones had their fabricators stationed in separate sections of the complex, each busy with independent projects that contributed to the larger whole.

The initial experiments were simple. I started with iron, breaking it down using specialized microorganisms until the rigid structure unravelled into fine metal filaments. From there, I began testing different growth mediums resin, bone, hardened chitin embedding the filaments into their matrix to reinforce the final form. The goal was to create a composite material stronger and more adaptable than traditional alloys.

The result of those early tests sat on the workbench nearby. A large, roughly hewn shield lay beneath the glow of bioluminescent lights of ceiling fungus, its surface scarred from repeated stress tests. It was strong, yes, but brittle in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

Each strike against its surface revealed hairline fractures that spider-webbed through the material. Repeated failures pointed to the same issue, impurities within the iron weakened its structural integrity.

I ran the last of the mineral samples through more tests. The results were promising. Most of the abundant minerals fell within mid to high-yield ranges sufficient for bulk construction, at least on a foundational level.

But the crucial three Unakine, Kranrhotite, and Abeyne remained scarce. Deposits of medium and low purity were all I could find in the immediate area. The higher concentrations lay closer to the surface, near the old Valurian mining zones.

I leaned back, watching the data scroll across the display. Accessing those higher concentrations meant exposure, risking detection by hostile forces that still patrolled the outer zones. I couldn’t afford that. Not yet.

Those veins powered the Valurian terraforming industry long before the war, fuelling the construction of starships, reactors, and key installations.

The open-pit mines carved into the landscape had stripped entire regions bare, leaving behind scars that stretched for kilometres. Few places provided adequate cover for mining operations. I had dispatched a handful of scouts drones to monitor activity at the pits.

They hadn't reported back yet due to the distance to the target, but so far, no enemy activity had been detected near my location.

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I picked up a fragment of high-yield Unakine from the workbench. The light blue crystal shimmered faintly under the workshop’s soft glow, catching the edges of the bioluminescence in a prismatic display.

Unakine’s properties were well-documented in the archives. A superconductor with near-limitless applications, it had been the backbone of Valurian power grids for centuries. Its unique resonance stabilized energy flow, allowing ships and facilities to store and transmit power without loss, a technological miracle by pre-collapse standards.

Valurian starships replaced traditional wiring with Unakine crystalline channels, embedding the material directly into their hulls. It distributed reactor output evenly, preventing overloads even during prolonged journeys through deep space. Beyond that, Unakine absorbed excess heat, stabilizing internal temperatures and diffusing thermal hotspots.

I turned the fragment over in my palm, letting the cool edges brush against the hardened chitin of my fingers. The possibilities were endless. If refined and integrated properly, Unakine could form the backbone of bio-circulatory systems within ships or drones. Crystalline lattices could grow like veins, transmitting electric energy with minimal degradation over time.

Weapons also came to mind rail guns, coil guns, energy lances. Embedding Unakine within their framework would eliminate the need for cumbersome power sources. Energy could be stored directly within the crystal and released in controlled bursts, transforming each weapon into a conduit of lethal force.

I set the fragment aside and logged the thought for later. Another clone had been tasked with plasma weapon design, but Unakine’s properties could provide a solution to the battery instability that plagued our prototypes.

Kranrhotite posed a different challenge. I turned my attention to the reddish-black ore encased in a pod nearby.

Microorganisms swarmed the surface, slowly breaking it down. Progress was slow frustratingly so. Each test forced me to engineer more aggressive strains, pushing biological decomposition to its limits. Even now, the process requires further refinement.

Kranrhotite’s resilience was the stuff of legend. In Valurian archives, it was heralded as the cornerstone of their starship hulls, resisting radiation, extreme heat, and corrosive environments. Plates of the material could withstand micrometeorite impacts, debris fields, and solar flares without sustaining significant damage.

Ships clad in Kranrhotite armour drifted through hazardous regions for decades, untouched by the slow decay that eroded lesser vessels. Habitat modules reinforced with the mineral could endure the hazardous conditions of asteroid fields, holding strong up to a certain threshold.

Critical components, vital systems, and reactors could be encased in Kranrhotite shells, significantly lowering the risk of destruction unless the entire structure was obliterated.

I imagined drones plated in Kranrhotite, their internals buried beneath layers of the alloy. They would lead the charge, spearheading assaults and tearing through enemy lines. With enough raw material, I could reinforce my body, transforming fragile areas into something more durable.

Abeyne was the wildcard. I turned to the sealed compartment across the room. The pale blue crystal sat within a containment field, its edges glowing faintly. Abeyne reacted violently with hydrogen, a volatile trait that made handling the material hazardous. Yet, its potential outweighed the risks.

Abeyne cores enhanced nuclear engines, accelerating combustion while extending fuel efficiency. Ships outfitted with Abeyne reactors could travel further with minimal fuel, reducing refuelling intervals by significant margins. In Valurian colonies, the crystal neutralized radiation, stabilizing research outposts close to their sun.

I envisioned swarms of Abeyne-infused drones, each one a ticking bomb capable of unleashing radioactive bursts. They could sterilize enemy installations, leaving nothing but scorched metal and toxic air. Burrowers could carry Abeyne cores beneath enemy bunkers, detonating from below and collapsing entire fortresses.

I grabbed a resin tablet, sketching possible designs. Kranrhotite-plated drones wielding Unakine-powered rail guns. Abeyne-laced units patrolling irradiated zones. A specialized combat group crafted from rare minerals, each drone an extension of the resources I gathered.

All that remained was to secure the minerals. The foundations were in place. Now, I needed the raw material to build up the swarm.

The larger issue remained securing fissionable materials. After combing through the archives, it was clear that such resources were abundant in the western hemisphere of the moon.

If everything proceeded smoothly, I could establish a base there to extract and transport the materials back. However, that would necessitate building a supply network, expanding operations, and reinforcing logistical lines.

I exhaled, already feeling the weight of the additional planning organizing resources, constructing facilities, creating units, and ultimately commanding battles. More work, more layers to manage.

I need coffee.