Fhaldrum (The Season of Awakening)

Day 1

1 A.E.

180 Days Since My Arrival

A new year had begun—the first I’d experienced in another world. My implant chimed softly, displaying a notification of the recent changes I’d made to its interface. The screen flashed the designation 1 A.E., marking the dawn of a new era: After Extinction. I was the first of my kind, the sole being carrying the genetic imprint and knowledge of an entire extinct race.

It was a bittersweet revelation. The thought of being the final remnant of a people who once thrived across worlds was a heavy burden, but life pressed forward. This desolate moon, though barren and scarred, would be the site of a memorial—a monument to the civilization that had come before me. It would stand as a testament to their existence and a warning to those who might follow.

But time waited for no one. My prior expansions had laid the groundwork for what was to come, and now my construction sub-mind was busy planning the next phase. The sealed-off sections of my subterranean domain were vast, but the sub-mind had flagged the need for new fungal strains and possibly flora to cultivate. The potential was enormous, but for now, much of the space was underutilized—like moving from a modest home to an empty skyscraper.

The scale was dizzying. I had yet to find the limits of the network of tunnels beneath the moon’s surface. My scouts continued to map new passageways, each leading deeper into the labyrinth. My reserves of biomass had grown significantly, enough to recreate half the forces I’d lost in my previous battles. With this surplus, I directed my bio-fabricators to focus on constructing more Burrowers and Architects, each enhanced with the abundant iron found within the moon’s crust.

The Burrowers expanded my reach, carving out larger biomass storage tanks, while the Architects connected them to the ever-growing fungus farms. Progress was slow but steady, and I had absorbed all the relevant data to optimize the projects. Yet, my thoughts kept drifting to a subject that had recently captured my attention: the Valurian ship designs.

The Valurians had been a fascinating species, their technology reflecting their biology and culture. Over centuries, their ships had evolved, but their aesthetic remained constant—resembling colossal crustaceans or arthropods. These vessels were often painted in vibrant hues of pink, blue, or purple, their exteriors as striking as their functionality.

As their technology advanced, their designs became modular, a necessity as their species began spending longer periods in space. Few Valurians had shown interest in interstellar exploration, but those who did bring their unique principles to space station and ship construction.

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Despite their ingenuity, the Valurians had never mastered artificial gravity. Instead, they relied on thrusting their ships at a constant 1.6 g to simulate gravity during long voyages. It was a primitive solution compared to the science fiction I once read, maybe the technology had been created by another species, but effective nonetheless. I wondered if my enemies possessed such superior technology—perhaps even gravity manipulation. If I could capture their brightest minds, it might unlock untold possibilities.

The Valurian ships were equipped with mechanical tentacle-like appendages along their underbellies and forward sections. These versatile arms could be used for maintenance, asteroid mining, or external repairs. They were controlled either by specialized crew members or automated systems. Replicating such appendages would be a straightforward task when I began designing my prototypes.

Large, ribbed radiator fins extended from the dorsal sections of their ships, glowing faintly red as they dissipated heat from the nuclear reactors. These fins, resembling Valurian tentacles, could retract when not in use. The heat management systems intrigued me—I would need to design similar features to handle the thermal output of a nuclear reactor when I eventually transitioned to nuclear power.

The Valurian main propulsion system relied on nuclear thermal rockets, which superheated hydrogen propellants to generate thrust. The rear sections of their ships featured large exhaust nozzles, shielded to protect against back blasts. NTRs provided long-duration burns and could operate for decades without refuelling. It would be useful on my planet-hopping campaign now I needed something faster since the enemy ships were faster.

Smaller ion thrusters were mounted along the sides of the ships, handling fine manoeuvring and station-keeping. These engines allowed for precise adjustments, essential for docking and mining operations.

The Valurians had built three primary ship classes before their eventual destruction. The first was the Kovun-Class Freighter, a massive cargo haulier designed for interplanetary trade and resource transport. It featured modular bays for carrying refined ore, supplies, and raw materials harvested from asteroids or distant planets. These freighters were the backbone of the Valurians’ terraforming efforts and fleet logistics, though many were destroyed during the war. Some schematics hinted at armoured variants, but none survived long enough to be utilized effectively.

The second was the Velsha-Class Pilgrim, a smaller, more agile vessel designed for combat and exploration. Armed with kinetic cannons, missile systems, and defensive countermeasures, it was built as a last-ditch effort during the final days of their war. However, its electronic countermeasure systems were underdeveloped, leaving it vulnerable to advanced enemy tactics.

The third and final ship was the Kovren-Class Council Carrier, a marvel of diplomacy and opulence. It served as a mobile council chamber, facilitating negotiations between factions before the Valurians fell. This vessel was painted in regal hues of purple, pink, blue, and black, with its interior designed to reflect the species’ cultural and spiritual values.

Each crew member and diplomat had personalized quarters, and the central chamber housed a shrine adorned with Nullite crystals embedded in coral-like structures shaped like trees.

If I ever designed a diplomatic ship, I would keep its interior minimalist, a stark contrast to the Valurians’ aesthetic. Perhaps I would even create a sub-mind specialized in diplomacy, though that seemed optimistic given the chaotic nature of the galaxy and my first contact experience.

My thoughts were interrupted by a rush of new data from the intelligence sub-mind. New information had been received, and the data painted a grim picture: another battle loomed on the horizon. My brief respite was over.

With a heavy sigh, I redirected my focus to preparing for the inevitable conflict. I ordered my clones to expedite their testing and development processes; I needed new weapon systems and combat drones immediately.

The Burrowers were tasked with stockpiling minerals, while I began formulating plans to synthesize new alloys from the resources available—an alternative to relying on the elusive three key materials I still couldn't obtain.

With orders issued, the machinery of war began turning once more. Bio-fabricators ramped up production, churning out combat drones to bolster my forces. A new year had dawned, but the same old struggles persisted. The Season of Awakening had begun, and the cycle of survival continued.