LEIA AND THE MACHINES
The robots continue the tasks assigned to them by the Admiral before he mingled with the humans. Leia now has complete autonomy—well, not entirely, as her algorithm compels her to consider the Admiral’s expectations—but technically, she no longer receives direct orders.
No more commands from him, not even a word directed at her, because for several hours—almost an entire day—the Admiral has been locked away with the humans. Everything was done hastily; no specific directives were given regarding “Albion” or their group of humans. The Admiral simply expressed his desire to blend in with them, to learn their language, their culture, the different factions; and above all, what fascinates him the most is this new energy : "magic".
When the Admiral saw the crudely carved cave, he requested more comfort, so lamps were installed, and moss was added. He grew angry upon seeing this, deeming it insufficient, but the humans were already captured and en route. The Admiral was administered a sedative before he could issue further requests.
It knocked him out, he was undressed and changed into attire resembling that of the peasants. An internal earpiece was installed so he could receive translation assistance. With that, the robots and the AI focused on other priorities: locating the cryopods, retrieving them all, and assessing if any remained viable. Ensuring a stable environment and electrical connection if viable.
Thus, the 347 maintenance and combat droids were deployed across the vast debris fields to find, unearth, and analyze every cryopod. It’s a time-consuming process. The metal sarcophagi, originally not designed to house dead bodies or to withstand the impact of crashing onto land, are scattered over kilometers. Sometimes, a compartment is in better condition, with hundreds easily accessible; other times, they’re buried under layers of wreckage.
Worse still, thousands were vitrified, completely melted by atmospheric entry, shattered by impact and pressure. Nothing remains of the bodies within—poor colonists from another universe. Doctors, teachers, mechanics, scientists of all kinds—even criminals, as part of the colony was penitentiary in nature—an entire ecosystem of millions of humans and other alien species unified under the empire.
Estimates suggest no more than 300,000 to 400,000 capsules might be intact and accessible, and the number of potential survivors is far fewer. Over three day-night cycles have passed, and emergency life-support systems can barely sustain for more than a month autonomously, leaving a broad window of time.
Time isn’t Leia’s main concern. The real problem is that the debris fields are becoming potential battlegrounds, if not areas of massive passage. How to avoid drawing attention? How to go unnoticed after literally ravaging tens of kilometers?
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Calculations run at full capacity within the AI’s servers—the only ones she managed to preserve after the crash—pathetic backup servers, never designed to handle all AI functions. They’re overheating in the cave where they’re installed. It looks nothing like the cave where Albion, the Admiral, Groboln, Salina, Lyrel, and over thirty others are gathered. This one is set under another peak, refrigerated, reinforced with large metal beams; it has a single, well-concealed entrance. Technically, even the Admiral doesn’t know its location or how to access it.
But the processing power is becoming a serious issue. Some droids struggle to synchronize—not due to signal range issues (an antenna covers a 50-kilometer radius)—but because the servers are damaged. Finding rare earth materials or equivalent substitutes in this strange world will be complicated.
So Leia reallocates droids over the first hour, then more—tasking them to join the larger transport droids in excavation work. They must analyze the soil, prospect, and understand the implications of this seemingly infinite terrain.
Their massive metal claws, makeshift drills cobbled from crash site debris, churn in an infernal, primarily subterranean ballet, causing vibrations that ripple through tree roots still clinging to the peaks. In the galleries forming, digging ever deeper, planning begins—foundries, assembly zones, maintenance areas, and research facilities must take shape. And fast.
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THORVAK
I’ve been “authorized” to leave the damp, dusty underground of the kingdom—finally. Bran is bursting with energy, as always, even though we’ve barely slept a few miserable hours. The dwarven commanders gave me clear orders: kill the dragon as quickly as possible, bring back its remains, its bones. We need to find a way to kill the creature, to pierce its thick hide beneath the scales. Fortunately, it’s already wounded from the cataclysm. I still see it in my mind—motionless, yet so dignified, so impressive.
It pains me to kill this being, this guardian. True, that was my initial goal, after satisfying my curiosity about the fire rain. But when I saw it, a kind of revelation struck me—and not just me; I felt it in my men, in my wife—a sort of reverence in the face of such power. What will she say when she sees me return after an entire night, accompanied by a full contingent of the royal army, the most formidable dwarves? Gunners, monster hunters, dwarves who’ve returned from the Abyss, here to help us slay the beast.
It’s true that my guild specializes in tracking and eliminating subterranean abominations, but taking on something this colossal? It’s unprecedented in contemporary dwarven history. It will cover me in glory; it will secure the throne for me.
That vile Durgil the Sage, of course, protested, insisting on placing hunters from his funded guilds in the expedition, but the king refused—I have his favor. Yet, I can’t help but doubt, to think things will go wrong, that the dragon will awaken, unleash its fury, and bring destruction.
Pff, to think that just days ago, Durgil was arguing we should remain cloistered in our tunnels, paying exorbitant prices for his earth oil just to keep our lamps lit. Now he’s the one who almost wants the dragon dead the most.
As soon as I become king, I’ll take his head.