Admiral -

My humanoid droids haven’t been idle. The three hundred or so, assigned to the recovery factory have methodically exploited every piece of debris in Impact Zone No. 1—the one south of the dragon and where I crashed—salvaging anything reusable: steel plates, damaged energy modules, fragments of circuitry. It’s a titanic task, but their efficiency never fails to amaze me. They work like ants, silent and tireless.

I know, however, that this is just a fraction of the ship. The largest impact zone lies far to the north, beyond the dragon. But for me, that region is forbidden territory. I can’t risk a confrontation or draw the attention of the humans I’ve been observing.

Doubt gnaws at me as I oversee their work. Will the humans notice the stark difference between this site and the northern one? Here, they’ll find nothing but metallic shards and massive fragments of the ship. Up north, it’s a veritable graveyard of cables, systems, and other machinery. Will they find it suspicious?

Since witnessing their battle, one thought has consumed me: to get out of here.

During the night and into the morning, my transporters have done monumental work. Almost all recovered equipment and vital materials have been moved to a precarious hideout in the karst peaks. It’s an ideal location—far better than lingering at a crash site. Staying here feels like standing over a corpse I’ve murdered, it twists my stomach at every moment. The peaks are discreet, concealed within jagged terrain, far from prying eyes and the humans’ likely paths. But the reactor remains.

That colossus, the heart of my potential future in this world, is still in transit. The huge droids work tirelessly, their movements precise and coordinated, but time is against me. The humans are advancing too quickly ; this thing weighs a shit ton. I wipe a bead of sweat that’s almost reached my lips. I’d like to avoid a confrontation, but...

Through the feeds of my spy droids, I see their caravan. They march swiftly, yet not recklessly. The group is well-organized, their scouts and strange elves—those with pointed ears—scrutinizing every movement in the woods. Even without knowing I’m here, their vigilance is a threat. If they find my droids, there will be no turning back.

And if they find the reactor...

The thought paralyzes me. They wouldn’t understand what it is. To them, it would be an artifact of unimaginable power. A massive cylinder, a metallic object from the heavens that pulses with strange energy, surrounded by mechanical creatures treating it as precious. It would undoubtedly become an obsession—a reason to hunt me relentlessly. Their greed, ambition, or fanaticism—whatever drives them—would be unstoppable. Damn it, I’m losing it... this crap is making me panic.

I stand abruptly, muscles tense despite my exhaustion. I need to make a decision.

A heavy weight presses on my shoulders. My hands tremble slightly as I input commands on my wrist interface. A synthetic voice resonates in my shelter:

"Admiral, your orders?"

The reactor is my heart. These humans are dangerous. Their magic, their organization, and their unknown motivations make them potential predators in a hunt where I am the prey.

I must decide. And quickly.

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I don’t even have time to respond to Leia when a new alert flashes, a series of signals blinking on my makeshift screens. My fifty observation droids, scattered along the forest’s perimeter, report a new anomaly: intelligent life forms detected nearby.

My mind races. Another group? I immediately switch to VR mode, diving into the perspective of one of the observation droids.

The view stabilizes quickly, the feed steady despite the challenging conditions. Stocky, robust silhouettes come into focus. Bearded, armed, clad in hammered armor adorned with engraved motifs. Dwarves. I can’t believe it. Actual dwarves, like something out of a story.

Now I’ve got the whole set—humans, elves, and now dwarves!

They’re much closer than the humans. Far too close. I’d estimate an hour’s march, maybe two for them—short legs don’t make it easy—but their stride is determined. Where the hell did these idiots come from? Are there tunnels popping up all over the forest? Is an orc army going to burst out of the karst peaks next? Fish from the lake?

The image trembles slightly as the droid pivots to capture a panorama of the clearing where the dragon lies. The feed is better than the one showing the humans earlier. The creature is still there, immense and motionless, its wounds visible even from a distance. The dwarves seem fascinated but not afraid. They talk amongst themselves, gesturing and pointing at objects or specific areas around the beast. Are they here to observe it? Or for something else?

Their equipment catches my eye. They’re heavily armed: axes? Hammers? All adorned with runes my systems can’t analyze. I don’t fully understand this world’s archaic weaponry, but I can guess their purpose based on their shape—though I’m used to axes and hammers for entirely different tasks.

My first thought is that they’re here to kill the dragon, weakened as it is. Perhaps they see an opportunity to exploit the creature’s vulnerability for resources or treasure. But their behavior suggests something else. They’re not agitated or overtly aggressive. They talk, debate, as if trying to reach a decision.

The problem is, they’re far closer than I’d like. These dwarves are within range of my combat droids, but I’m in no position to act aggressively. They haven’t detected me—not yet. But if my droids betray their presence, this could turn very bad. Their rudimentary equipment likely wouldn’t pose an immediate threat to my units, though those runes make me uneasy—they’re probably magical.

I murmur to myself, "What do I do?"

My thoughts are a blur. I need to focus, to prioritize. The reactor is still in transit, and every second wasted here is a second gained by the humans to the south. But these dwarves... they’re unpredictable.

I grit my teeth and return to the VR perspective. The dwarf leader speaks, pointing toward the dragon. He seems to be giving orders to his group.

I clench my fists. I can do nothing but hope. Pray, perhaps. But an idea, a sly thought, creeps into my mind. An alternative that might not only save me from immediate danger but also divert the two factions encroaching on me.

What if I led them toward each other?

Something—a hunch—tells me these dwarves and humans, so different in appearance and likely in motivation, won’t get along. Perhaps their mutual distrust will spark a confrontation, or at least slow their progress. It could buy me the time I need to finish exfiltrating the reactor and vanish.

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I switch to command mode, temporarily leaving the VR feed to address Leia. My voice is tense but steady.

"Leia, analyze the options. Is it possible to draw the dwarves’ attention toward the humans without revealing our position?"

The synthetic voice responds after a brief pause, likely evaluating the variables.

"Admiral, a reconnaissance droid squad could be deployed to simulate human activity heading toward the caravan. However, this entails a risk of detection or destruction of these units. Orders?"

I take a deep breath. It’s risky, yes. But perhaps necessary. If I do this, I must do it right. There’s no room for error. The reconnaissance droids are swift and discreet, but their presence might raise suspicions among the dwarves or humans if I’m not careful.

I return to the dwarves’ perspective. Their leader continues giving orders, but he seems hesitant, torn between curiosity for the dragon and caution. It’s now or never. If they advance, they might stumble upon traces of the human caravan.

"Leia, deploy a reconnaissance droid squad. Priority: simulate traces of human passage heading south. Avoid any direct contact with the dwarves or humans. Objective: divert their attention. If the dwarves follow, we gain time."

"Order confirmed. Deployment in progress."