The initial shock has passed, replaced by a cold determination. Pain, exhaustion, loneliness—all of it matters little in the face of what must be done. If I want to survive, if I want to make sense of this disaster, I have to act now. My first goal is clear: gather the droids. With them, I can hope to secure the vital parts of the Colossus and lay the groundwork for survival.

I turn to the three droids already present, their glowing sensors fixed on me.

“Leia, I want every operational unit to converge on my position. Identify those that can be quickly repaired with available parts in the area. Absolute priority: transport, maintenance, and combat droids.”

It seems unlikely that Leia’s earlier analysis missed any drone-class units—a shame, as they’d have been invaluable for scouting the crash site and the surrounding area. Judging by the scorched trees at the forest’s edge, it’s clear I’ve landed in a wooded area. It could’ve been worse: a city, or the middle of an ocean. Then I remember that number—zero. No one survived but me. I grit my teeth. No, it couldn’t have been worse.

“Order transmitted. Scanning local networks. Estimated convergence time: approximately one hour. Estimated repair time for partially functional units: variable depending on recoverable resources.”

An hour. An eternity in this unfamiliar environment. Fragments of my training at the Imperial Naval Academy surface: in a hostile environment, staying on the move is paramount. Avoid stagnant positions. But I have no choice. I can only hope this environment is no more hostile than the field of debris already is.

I have to move towerd the generator.

I motion sharply to the heavy transport droid. This guy will clear my path to it.

“You’re coming with me to secure the generator. It’s critical. Leia, guide me.”

“Secure route calculated. Unstable debris detected in the area. Estimated travel time: 35 minutes.”

I take a deep breath, the motion painful in my right side, and start moving. Three kilometers is going to be painful. My legs protest, each step rekindling a sharp pain in my injured side, but I can’t afford to stop. Ahead of me, the transport droid clears debris too cumbersome for me to navigate, its heavy steps crushing grass and fragments beneath its weight. On either side, the other two droids flank me. Though only one is armed, their presence offers some reassurance.

After an arduous march, we finally arrive. I nearly collapse, breathless. Fuck, do I really have some broken ribs ?! The generator compartment looms ahead, massive and solitary, emerging from the wreckage like a fortress. Its armored shell, mostly intact, speaks to its superior design. But visible cracks mar its surface, and torn pipes leak a whitish gas. Along the way, about forty droids have joined us, scattered survivors converging slowly but steadily. It feels like walking with an army, except there’s no one left to defend.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The generator itself is a behemoth—a massive cylindrical structure about forty meters tall, bristling with pipes, control panels, and security systems. It sits in a crater, partially embedded in the plain, its immense weight having driven it deep into the ground upon impact. The crater it created is vast, it obliterated everything in its immediate vicinity.

Leia’s voice finally speaks again, through the module I replaced on my wrist.

“Fusion generator detected. Structural integrity: 83%, primarily external damage. Functionality unstable. Main power is offline. Gravitational disturbances and the impact have compromised anchoring systems. Stabilization required to prevent irreversible damage.”

It’s even worse than I expected. If this generator fails or sustains further damage, I’m doomed. The droids, Leia, any chance of survival—all depend on it. Now that it’s in front of me, it’s time to act. Maybe that's my mission now. I try to convince myself, flooding my mind with this one objective to suppress any lingering human thoughts.

“Leia, deploy all available transport and maintenance units here immediately. Combat droids are to secure the area during repairs.”

“Order executing. Estimated arrival time for first units: 15 minutes.”

I kneel beside a partially dislodged control console, attempting to restart it. The screen flickers weakly, but the commands remain inaccessible. No surprise. The reactor itself has survived and is likely in a safety mode, but all auxiliary systems are fried.

As the droids finally arrive, the plain begins to stir with activity. A dozen machines, some dented but operational, converge on the generator, joining the ones already at work. Articulated arms immediately spring into action, removing metal plates, welding cracks, and reconnecting severed cables. More of them emerge like an unyielding swarm of ants, appearing from the wreckage as if rising from a vast underground hive.

A humanoid maintenance droid approaches me, a first-aid kit integrated into its frame. I'm asked to take off my shirt as it detects injury. It quickly scans my whole body before applying antiseptic foam and a compressive bandage. The pain dulls slightly. I ask it what exactly afflicts me, but its vocals seem fucked up, I guess I’ll have to make do for now.

Meanwhile, transport droids clear debris from around the generator, primarily heaps of scorched earth and charred wreckage. They stabilize the structure using recovered materials supplied by the others. A combat unit patrols the perimeter, its sensors sweeping the area for potential threats. For now, the only threat appears to be my own stress—and that’s a relief.

All these robots together form a chaotic but efficient ballet.

My brain also continues this dance in abstraction from the spectacle before my eyes.

“Leia, how many main servers are still intact?”

“One main server detected. Location: 2 kilometers west of the generator. High risk of imminent degradation. If this server is compromised, my integrity will be irreparably lost.”

It’s another blow, but there’s an opportunity. With the generator stabilized, I could power the server and ensure its protection.

“Leia, prioritize backing up your data. Once the generator is reactivated, your integrity is the top priority.”

“Order confirmed. Estimated time for data transfer and stabilization: 3 hours post-generator reactivation.”

I clench my fists. Everything hinges on this generator. Every weld, every repair made by these droids is a battle won against oblivion and desolation.