NMS - Rain and Ruin, Part One

1



I captured all images, aside from the Atlas logo, on the procedural generation engine of No Man’s Sky, created by Hello Games, using a PlayStation 4. Some post-processing edits have been done in this version.All beings and locations mentioned within can be found in the game using the coordinates provided, and I have tried to keep their information as accurate as possible (aside from some dramatic storytelling). I suggest listening to the official soundtrack as you read – I had it on while I wrote many chapters, and it really adds to the immersion. This is a work of fiction based on the game and is not intended to be canonical. Any similarities to other works or names is coincidental. I read a lot, but I strive to be original! Author: u/MakesYouSoundEpic on Reddit December 13, 2016 -



NO MAN’S SKY RAIN AND RUIN



PROLOGUE (COORDINATES: UNKNOWN) Life support systems: fifty percent. I opened my eyes, gasping harshly as I jolted awake. The air was cold and sharp – my throat was in agony,as if I were swallowing an ore crystal – and tasted stale. Dusty. My body ached in misery as I drew in shallow,ragged breaths. I felt battered and bruised, like I’d been hit by a freighter. Coughing, I tried to move and found myself lockedin place. I leaned my head back, letting it fall against the headrest, then took a few deep breaths to calm myselfdown. Mustering my willpower, I brought my head up and looked at my surroundings. A million tiny suns shone up at me from below, a result of reflected light in the panes of shattered glass thatcovered the cockpit of the starship. Sparks flew from my console, temporarily creating miniature supernovae thathurt my eyes and sent tendrils of acrid smoke into the air. All around, hoses and wires were torn free and hangingfrom the hull panels, and most of the metal I could see was mangled, bent, or broken. 1

I sat in the middle of the mess, buckled in to my seat. Blood spatter covered the inside of my visor, though Icouldn’t remember how it had gotten there; some of the HUD areas flashed glitching error messages in angryletters. My right arm screamed in agony, along with both of my legs, and I was sure that I had some broken bones.I struggled to piece together what had happened before I ended up here, and my memory stubbornly refused torecall anything useful. Slowly, as if I were reaching through a dense and swampy marsh, I reached over with my good arm,unhooked my restraining belt, and tossed it off my body. It usually retracted with a satisfying whiirrr, but now itjust fell down and remained limp, piled up below me. The ship was a shell, not even useful for life support – anddefinitely not for any kind of flight. I ran a hand across my exosuit, feeling for breaches and cuts. Finding none, I heaved a sigh of relief andclosed my eyes again, thinking about my next move. I was alive – somehow. I had survived a shipwreck before, but it hadn’t been nearly this bad; a few bumpsand some broken tech, and I’d been on my way in no time. But looking around at the remains of the craft, Iwouldn’t have thought it possible for a pilot to make it out of here alive. Here I was, though, and the importantthing was to stay alert and get my systems back online. A quick scan of the environment told me I was safe for theimminent future, so I would just have to take on problems as they popped up. I shoved my left hand against the cockpit hatch and pushed as hard as I could manage, causing fire in mytorso – some of my ribs were fractured, too. The frame offered no resistance in its mutilated state, and it easilyswung up and out. I slowly hauled myself out from the side, feeling my arms and legs shake with the effort andthe pain as I cleared the top of the hull. Unsure, I lost my grip, tumbled down over the wrecked paneling, and hitthe ochre dirt square on my back – an excruciating torture to my broken bones. Stars bloomed in my vision. A 2

cloud of dust mushroomed into the air, and stones jabbed into me from beneath, each demanding attention. Icoughed some more, every single one a blade between my shoulders. I tried to sit up, and found it extraordinarily difficult – much more so than I had anticipated. Determined, Igrabbed the smoldering edge of my ship’s wing – what was left of it, anyway – and pulled myself up. I knew that ifI didn’t get my suit charged up, I wasn’t going to make it much longer. I was weak and worn out. Turning to the ship, with great effort I pulled some of the paneling off the hull. Gutting the fuel tanks andthe engine, I slowly picked up enough fuel to recharge my suit systems, and I felt a surge of relief as the nanobotswent into overdrive and began patching up my broken body. I lay back down on the ground, letting them do theirwork; a minute later, and I could stand and walk unassisted. It was amazing that Travellers had ever gone anywhere at all without such technology. On my feet now, I scanned my surroundings through the dots of dried blood and saliva. The planet lookedlike a wasteland. I was in a valley, with rolling hills sweeping in all directions, rising up to tall and jagged peaks inthe distance. The only plants I could see were strangely grotesque – callously hanging off outcroppings and juttingout of the dirt, appearing every bit as alien as they were to me. Some of them were silent and still, not evenwavering in the wind that whipped across the landscape; I could have sworn others were pulsating, like beatinghearts without a body. Giant, eerie floating creatures roamed everywhere, along with other smaller ones thatscampered around below them, and I felt a shiver run through me. Though it was cold on this planet, I knew itwasn’t just the temperature. I turned my focus down to my suit. It was intact and technically functional, which seemed like a miraclegiven the state of the ship beside me, but it was plainly obvious that much of the complex technology within it hadbeen destroyed. While basic life support and hazard protection remained operational, my advanced shields and 3

other physical augmentations were totally wrecked. With naïve optimism, I checked my jetpack controls. I held my breath, hoping this, at least, had survivedunscathed; I wasn’t sure I had either the energy or the ability to climb up the looming walls of the valley aroundme, peppered as they were with loose boulders, slippery gravel, and – now that I looked closely – plenty of faunathat may not be entirely friendly. No such luck. The controls were unresponsive when I mashed the buttons down, and a quick diagnostic toldme what I already had deduced: Technology Critically Damaged. I exhaled a defeated breath and leaned against the smoking remains of my starship. The inside of my visorwas fogging up, adding to the distortion caused by the bloodstains, and I cursed my inability to reach inside theglass and wipe it clean – I didn’t dare remove my helmet out here. This air could kill me on contact. The air – this biome. I should use my Scanner here, I thought, hoping it had survived the crash. I looked itover, and though the long-range antenna had been severed, meaning I would be limited to just a few tens ofmeters around me, the tech still worked as it should. It would be a good place to start – I could track and collectenough resources to build a signal booster and find my way to a shelter. I fired the Scanner, and shimmering icons started to pop up in my HUD. Some flashed with errors where thescreen had been damaged, but it was enough to get a sense of what was around me; I saw zinc, iron, platinum,plutonium, and even some titanium right on the edge of its range. More surprising, though, was the group ofpurple icons that appeared just a few meters away. The tiny plants, singed and burned from the crash, had dull green stalks with bright yellow bulbs hangingfrom the tips. I would recognize candensium anywhere, especially since its presence was one of the most reliableindicators of dangerous radioactivity on a planet. 4

5

This wasn’t good. With my boosted shields down, I wouldn’t have much time before the atmosphericradiation ate its way through my suit’s defenses. They would need constant refilling if I wanted to survive. One problem at a time. I took a moment to compose my thoughts, glancing around once more. On the horizon, the system’s sun hadrisen, making the temperature bearable, at least; just visible hanging ominously in the lightening sky, wrappedwith a blanket of sickly greenish-purple clouds, a sister planet looked down, judging my every move. As if aware of my current situation, my suit helpfully chirped an alarm into my ear, sounding irrationally calmgiven the circumstances. Weather warning: incoming storm. I only had a few minutes before that weather hit. I had to get out of this valley and find somewhere to takeshelter if I was going to make it through the next few hours. I wondered if there was anything else from my ship that I could salvage. I had already taken everything fromthe engines and fuel tanks, so I threw open the cargo hold, hoping there would be some reserves in there. There weren’t. All I saw was light – the brightest light I had ever seen. I stumbled backwards, wrenching my face away fromthe cargo bay, and tripped over a rock, landing hard on the ground again. My eyes burned; I could hardly stand toopen them. I didn’t want to imagine how bad it would have been if my visor had been clear and clean. A gravitino ball rolled out of the back of the ship, hit the dirt, and continued rolling down the slight inclineaway from me. Its light faded as it did so, granting me reprieve from the knives that stuck into my eyes. I staredback up into the cargo hold, in disbelief. 6

It was full of gold. More gold than I had ever seen in my life. More gold than all the stockpiles I had everseen, all put together and doubled. Most of the tech had even been removed, to make room for more gold; I wasstaring at millions of potential Units. All stuck in the back of a disabled ship. I racked my brain, trying to remember how I had put it there. I had pieces of memories – of running, up a hill– of agonizing pain – of machines, so many machines – High overhead, a flash in the sky drew my attention. I thought it was lightning, signalling the start of theoncoming storm, but realized it was much too high for that. It was a ship entering the atmosphere, heating up the air as the friction caused it to slow down from orbitalspeeds. I could see the trail of smoke, fanning out above the clouds; as the ship approached, I realized it was notso much descending as it was plummeting, spinning in uncontrolled circles as it fell. I could see the colors on the hull now, blurs as it streaked through the air. It was a sentinel starship. Inpursuit behind it were two other ships, with much more subdued markings: Pirates. They fired at their target,blasting pieces of it away, even as it careened down to the surface. I watched as the sentinel ship broke through the atmosphere and neared the ground. It made no attempt toslow down, and finally, it disappeared behind the valley ridge, with the Pirates right behind. There was a momentof silent anticipation, and then I saw the cloud of dust rise up, dwarfing the ship that had created it; the sheerscale of it shocked me. The ship must have been traveling at more than a thousand kilometers an hour. The edge of the shock wave broke over the ridge, disrupting the plants and terrifying the animals that triedto outrun it. I could see the wall of dust getting closer, and I curled up into a ball, protecting my head and torso. 7

Another moment of anxious tension – and then I heard the violent boom as the wave passed overhead,bringing a storm of its own over me. A rain of rocks and dirt covered me, and choking dust hung in the air; it onlylasted for an instant, but seemed like far longer. Weather warning, my suit admonished again. Incoming storm. I struggled to my feet, trying to get my bearings as the dust settled. I looked back and forth, wonderingwhich way I should go and where the best place to set up a signal booster would be – but then I watched the twoPirate ships clear the valley wall and head in my direction. And, judging from the way they corrected their initial course, which would have taken them a few hundredmeters to my left, to a new one that brought them directly to my position – I knew they had seen me, too. I saw them fire before I heard the sound, and acted on instinct. I dodged sideways, grimacing through thedull throbbing pain in my legs and back, and made a break for a small cave entrance in the valley wall. Orange blasts blew apart the soil around me, sizzling and crackling as it vaporized. These weapons weremeant to take down armored starships, with full shielding and defenses – I wouldn’t last long in my weakenedexosuit. More blasts hit the ground, and I made a final rush for the cave mouth. I dove in, rolling down a smallincline, and slammed to a stop against a set of stalagmites. My breath vanished, leaving me choking for air.Antrium plants peeked out from the cracks between the rock pillars, throwing an eerie purple light onto the scene. Weather stabilizing, offered my suit cheerfully. Grunting with the effort, I crawled up to the edge of the cave and peered out to the valley I had just left. The 8

wind was picking up now, and radioactive dust filled the air; I could just make out the silhouette of my ship on thevalley floor – and the Pirate ships that hovered above it. As I watched, they dropped a towing cable, which hooked itself electromagnetically to my ship’s hull. BeforeI could shout a single word of protest – though, what would I have said? What could I have done? – they werelifting off again, bringing my ship full of gold with them. My ship, that I had bought dozens of systems back, that I had lovingly cared for and upgraded over the light-years, that I had customized with a thousand tweaks; my ship, that had been to countless planets with me andkept me safe as I travelled unimaginable distances between galactic regions – I watched, helpless, as the Piratespulled it off the surface and disappeared over the hills with it. In its place, shrieking winds filled the void with dust and danger as the storm finally arrived in its full force.Alien trees bent and swayed, losing their leaves to the radioactive debris that sandblasted anything unfortunateenough to be caught in the open, and the wandering creatures I had seen earlier had disappeared. Surely some ofthe animals had taken refuge in caves just like this one – or even in this one itself. I couldn’t worry about that now. I shrank back into the cave, moving myself further into its protectivecocoon. I was sheltered from the wind, and my hazard protection seemed to be holding up better in here, too. Theplentiful antrium made it easy to see, and I was sure I could find enough elements to build my booster without toomuch trouble when the time came – but for now, I just needed to rest. I needed to mourn. My ship was gone, and as a galactic traveller, it was as if my heart itself had been torn out. I was strandedon this planet, and the one constant that had been my source of safety and comfort for years was now in thehands of cold, indifferent thieves. I imagined them ripping it open, stealing the gold inside, harvesting the engineand generators for parts, and even in my weakened state, I seethed at the injustice. 9

I would deal with all my problems, in time. I knew I would find a way off this planet – I had made it throughmuch worse in my travels across the galaxy. For now, though – I just needed to sleep. I was exhausted. I lay down and closed my eyes, and dreamed ofdark and terrible things, cloaked in black and red, while the planet howled and tore itself apart around me. 10

11

12

PART ONE: SUBRAVEXA [F2] Obogamuto Region 034C : 0082 : 0D34 : 0080 179,567.3 light years to Euclid Center 13

14

15

16

I SUBRAVEXA STATION (OUTPOST S54-T/X) I stared at the trade terminal, incredulous. +100.8% to buy iron? This Gek must have gone insane, postedout here at the edge of the galaxy. Nobody was going to pay that much when there were millions of asteroids rightoutside the station, full of iron ore and just waiting to be mined. I squinted at the name tag of the station captain –Prospector Enivest, written in three languages – and told it that, in the best imitation of its language I couldmuster. It responded by cackling in its strange, foreign laughter. All pay...you too, it chirped, not even looking away from its electropad. I struggled to translate its harshlanguage on-the-fly, and it made no effort to assist me. Asteroids...Pirates. No mine. It paused, and tilted itsbulging eyes up towards me, in a gesture that I couldn’t discern as either friendly or fierce. No fuel...they find you. I fumed at its stubbornness. 17

“You’re just as bad as they are,” I said irately, in my own language. “Either you rob me, or they do. You knowthe word extortion?” I let the silence ripen in the air for emphasis. Enivest moved in what might have been a shrug. It didn’t understand the words – Gek were notoriouslydisinterested in much outside their own culture – but I could tell it picked up on my anger. Buy iron expensive, Icaught in its reply. So bring expensive gold. A cursory check back at the trade terminal told me that the price ofgold was also abnormally high, which would have been great, if I’d had any to sell. “Have no gold,” I said, switching back to my atrocious Gek. “Maybe steal iron. More cheap.” I knew thethreat was empty before it even left my mouth; robbing a station would cause far more trouble for me than itwould resolve. In response, the Gek waved dismissively, turned its head down, and went back to its work, ignoringme with the dedicated apathy for which they are so well-known. Grumbling, I swore under my breath and reluctantly transferred the little Units I could spare to the terminal,receiving my iron in return. As much as I hated it, I knew I couldn’t chance getting caught between planets with anempty fuel tank and a dozen Pirates waiting in ambush. Storming back out to the landing bays, I restored my pulseengines and applied the leftover ore to my shields, appreciating the way they glowed with the renewed energy. Atleast that made me feel a bit better. Hopping in the cockpit, I settled in, pulled up my Galactic Cloud interface, and checked my notes from thelast stellar system. The planet I had just explored had been a disappointment – extreme toxic rain (did my suitreally register a tox level of 107.4?!) and a relatively barren landscape, without as much as a single crystal of anyrarer elements. I had been in such a rush to get out of there that I had totally forgotten to charge my engines,necessitating a pit stop at this system’s space station. 18

I flipped through the previous system data, showing the single planet that orbited the yellow-white star,Mojilokoris. It was a pleasant enough stellar neighborhood; no black holes, no anomalies, no trillion-kilometer-long clouds of dust to clog up engine components. As a Traveller, it was a pattern that I had seen in countlesssystems – and for that, it was a blessing and a curse. Such systems were generally safer to be in, but their lifeforms and features tended to be – well, boring. My livelihood depended on making big, unique discoveries that I could cash in for equally big rewards. Smallrodents were perfectly fine, but so common that I’d be lucky to get a couple hundred Units for uploading theirinformation; a clear picture of a towering and ferocious six-legged carnivore, on the other hand, would net mefunding for my travels, recognition across the galaxy, and perks with traders I encountered. I had the freedom totraverse the stars, but the downside was that on inhospitable, empty planets, I lost money in the very process ofcataloging the mundane nothingness – spending more than I made, just to keep my fuel supplies up and my lifesupport systems online. I couldn’t afford to skimp on those; you could never tell which planets were kind andwhich were deadly from orbit alone. I had hit a string of hostile planets lately. If there had been a market for toxic rain, radioactive dust, and thepeace and quiet of empty landscapes...well, buying some iron ore wouldn’t have been so bad. As it was, though, Iwasn’t exactly swimming in riches. I did get lucky sometimes, finding rare, high-value resource deposits to offset the costs of operation. Butsuch deposits were high-value precisely because they were just that: incredibly, unimaginably, unbelievably rare.It had been a long time since I’d come across anything more valuable than some nickel veins, and for mostmaterials, the market was saturated anyway, driving the price down to the point where it was hardly worth it tomine in the first place. It would not be a lie to say I literally dreamed about planets made of omegon and calium,with plants that grew vortex cubes... 19

Refocusing my thoughts, I ran my notes from the planet I had just left through the Discovery, a namegenerator that officialised system and planet names for use across different cultures – by creating random names,no race could claim that their languages were being promoted or disregarded in the process. It spit an answerback at me. I uploaded the result to the Galactic Cloud: Iraeris. Now any other travelers – who may actually beinterested in visiting the planet, and not just mining it, studying it, or blowing it up – would be able to findinformation on it before they set down. In this instance, that was probably for the best, since very few species Icould think of would actually find that planet livable.IRAERISMojilokoris [F6p]; Obogamuto Region179,601.2 LY to Euclid Center [034C : 0082 : 0D34 : 00CA]WEATHER Extreme Toxicity; Alkaline StormsSENTINELS StandardFLORA FrequentFAUNA Infrequent I closed the Cloud and swiped over to the Galaxy Map. The star I had just named burned brightly in the 3Dmodel, with the new information I had just added hovering helpfully beside it. I turned my attention to the stellarsystem into which I had just arrived, generating a name for it as well: Subravexa [F2]. In the background, millionsupon millions of other stars shone intensely, far into the distance in every direction. 20

21

I sighed. I usually didn’t let the implications of the galactic map get to me, but something about the stress ofthe day had dug under my skin. There were still so many – so many! – stars left to visit and name, each with anunknown number of planets and moons; I could spend a thousand lifetimes system-hopping, never taking a breakor a day off, and still have more to do than I’d done so far. The vaguely-worded motto that showed up on theinterface each morning – explore and experience, Traveller – had never been terribly motivating, and at themoment it felt...demoralizing. No, that wasn’t quite the right word, but it wasn’t too far from the one that was. I breathed deeply and tried to remember that even so, the work was important. Millions of jobs across thegalaxy depended on Travellers like me, tracking down valuable materials and safe harbors. Untold trillions of Unitstransferred accounts every day (well, during whatever passed for a day out here, when you’re rarely on a planetlong enough to experience one), and it was all a result of us drawing the right maps and putting down the right Xs.It was a bit of a gamble – in a galaxy this large, some unfortunate soul had to be destined to spend most of theirlife on the outer fringes of some forgotten edge region, losing years from it every time they hit an extremeenvironment; and overall, the work was largely anonymous, lonely, dangerous, and frustrating, but even so – in itsown way, it mattered. I couldn’t really explain why...but it did. I pulled my restraining belt into place, closed the cockpit hatch, and sealed it with a satisfying click. As Iwaited for the pressure to balance, I ran through the pre-flight checks with the smooth confidence of someonewho has done it thousands of times – because I had – and made sure to connect my exosuit’s HUD to the ship’sconsole, giving me the augmented reality GUI that was so crucial to full mastery of a starship. Finally, with agentle nudge of the throttle, I lifted off the landing pad. I hit a button and retracted the starship’s LandscapeEqualizing Gimbal System, a.k.a. the LEGS, which allowed it to land properly on uneven terrain. I shot out of the station’s port, feeling the inertia hit me as I cleared the force field around it. I could see theasteroid clusters in the distance, deceptively inviting; remembering the captain’s words, I corrected my course to 22

bypass them as I aimed toward a planet, suspended in the nothingness. I flipped the cover off a prominent button on the control panel, labeled SYSTEM SCAN. Pushing it down, Iheard the slight throoom of the antenna as it sent the waves out, hungry for information. Immediately, lights began popping up on my HUD. The Scanner wasn’t able to read the surface with perfectaccuracy when it came to settlements and other points of interest, but even the cheapest starships came withbuilt-in spectroscopy technology that could identify the most prominent elements on any planet. If I had tomanually upload all that information to the Cloud, for hundreds of thousands of systems with multiple planets ineach of them...well, I would have spent more time sitting in my ship than exploring outside of it. The Scanner didn’t find any settlements, but three elements popped up into my HUD. Gold. Nickel.Heridium. I quickly skimmed the words, took a moment to register, and then did a double take. Did that say gold? On a macroscopic full-system scan? It did, hanging in my visor and taunting me with possibilities. Gold. It persisted, even after I waited for theScanner to recharge and hit it again. That could only mean one thing: gold was one of the primary elements onthis planet’s surface. I swallowed hard, feeling my heartbeat quicken. I had only encountered one planet like this before, dozensof systems ago, but the gold there had been secondary – and brutally difficult to retrieve, buried hundreds ofmeters under the ground. Furthermore, the space station out there had sold it for far below average, costing meabout as much money in loss as I gained from the sale in the first place. It was one of the many lessons I hadlearned over the stellar cycles about how important it is to keep up with what the stations want, and while Iremembered it as a nice bonus overall, it had been nowhere near enough to pay buy a new ship, or any worthwhilesuit upgrades. 23

This, though? This was different. For these deposits to show up on a planetary scan from a quarter of amillion kilometers away, they had to be enough to overpower all the background elements – in this case, it showedup first on the list. So if this screen was accurate, I was looking at a planet bursting with gold, just a short pulsejump away from a station that bought it at twice the price I would find anywhere else. I didn’t wait. I reached over to the console and pushed the dual throttle switches that controlled the pulseengines. 5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 flashed on the screen, and then the stars blurred together, in the most beautiful way. 24

II AUTROVO [DISCOVERY] (LAND COORDINATES: VAHN) The onboard timer in my ship ticked away the seconds as I approached the planet. I always felt odd duringthis part of the entry phase – when the technology in front of me took over and I only had to sit back and watchworlds get bigger in my window. It seemed unfairly simple, but it did give me plenty of time to enjoy the view. I looked through the reinforced glass, marveling at the lack of parallax in the backdrop of stars – even at thisspeed, they were so far away that I may as well have been standing still. Off to my left, a sister planet to the one Iwould soon be on loomed out of the darkness; I tried to guess its composition based on the color of the clouds. Itwas a skill that I had never quite developed. Pink clouds, I thought to myself. Heavy carbon saturation? Thamium-9 air contamination? My thoughts were interrupted as I saw flecks of rock and debris rocketing past my vision. I was passing an 25

26

an asteroid cluster, which was actually less dangerous at this near-light speed than it was with my regularthrusters. Going this fast, a ship increased so substantially in mass that it created a gravity anomaly, bending thespace in front of it ever so slightly – just enough to clear a path, really. When the engines had been invented, sucha phenomenon hadn’t been specifically built into or accounted for in the design, but it worked so well that itbecame standard. It had turned out for the best, since a collision at this speed would obliterate a ship, anasteroid, and any helpless pilots who happened to be involved. I held my breath as I passed through, alert for the slightest sign of trouble from the Pirates who lurked insuch places. They could disable my pulse engines with their Scanners, as the engines were programmed to shutoff within a certain range of other ships; this prevented friendly pilots from being roasted with ionized exhaust, butit also stopped innocent explorers from running too far or too fast when they were in trouble. The best I couldhope for was to be left alone. I came out the other side of the cluster, safe and still at top speed, and exhaled my breath in relief. Now thegold planet filled my window, and I could finally appreciate just how fast I was going as I entered the atmosphere.The ship began to violently shake as I encountered air resistance, and the pulse engines quickly reacted –switching off and allowing my momentum to carry me forward. I felt the temperature spike as I turned into afireball, streaking toward the surface. The shaking lessened as the air slowed me down, and the heat dissipated into the cool gloom of the planet.Now I was only a few thousand meters above the ground, and I flipped the Scanner over to the Local setting,sending out another blast. I was looking for one of the settlements that the Gek traders would have surely built. Nothing came back. That was strange. I went into full manual control, heading closer to the surface. The landscape looked barren and empty, with 27

hardly any flora to be seen. A scarcity of plant life usually meant an even bigger scarcity of locomotive life – so ifthat was any indication, I wouldn’t need to worry about staying on foot to do any exploring. I manoeuvred to within fifty meters of the ground, allowing the ship’s Preventative Automatic Detectionsystem – or just the PAD, for short – to take over and keep me from crashing into the hazards below. My cockpitview was severely limited to the sides and back, and I couldn’t see past a certain angle in front of and beneathme, so the PAD was my solution – it used short-range radar to interpret the surroundings and correct my courseautomatically, even if I wasn’t paying attention. It couldn’t land the ship for me, but it could keep me safelyairborne until I found somewhere that was confirmed to be stable enough to set down. I fired the Scanner again, waiting for something to show up. Nothing did – no shelters, no observatories, nodusty monuments to long-dead conquerors. It made no sense; why would the Gek, one of the most powerful andbloodthirsty species in the galaxy and currently orbiting in a station I could see from where I sat, choose to payexorbitant prices for imported gold when there was a planet full of it right here? Why hadn’t they built – as far as I could tell – a single outpost? I swooped over a ridge, feeling the cushioning of the PAD as it led me safely across the cliffs. I began tobank to the left, toward a series of low rolling hills that stretched onward to the horizon; before long I had turnedfar enough to see the other planet in the sky before me. It hung patiently and without judgment, observing myinitial foray onto the surface like a protective older sibling, and I was so entranced by the colors and vistas beforeme that I nearly missed the gold column flying past. I slammed the airbrakes, causing me to lurch heavily forward in my seat, and commanded the PAD to findthe nearest safe place to land. Acting quickly, it found a suitable patch of bare ground – not too difficult,considering how empty the surface was – and extended the LEGS. I felt them carve their holds into the dirt, 28

automatically compensating for different heights, and with a final hiss and creak as the weight settled –everything went still and silent. I double-checked that my suit seal was active, and that my life support and tech installs were charged up.Satisfied, and without any further hesitation, I popped the hatch. There was no loud rush of air going in or out. That was nice, at least; it meant the atmospheric pressure onthis planet wasn’t too high or too low. The air might be pure poison – but at least it wouldn’t pull my lungs out ofmy throat if the suit failed. I pushed the hatch fully open, stepped up and over the side of the cockpit, and swung my feet outward,jumping free of the wing and cargo bay. My feet came down on the stubbly green moss that covered large swathsof the ground, sinking a little bit into the spongy layer. I nearly lost my balance, regained it, and then stood upstraight, with my hand ready to pull my multi-tool at the slightest sign of trouble. None came. Confident that nothing was sneaking up on me, I relaxed a bit and sent out a resounding throom from mysuit’s Scanner. Data filled my visor’s HUD: decent weather and air composition, groves of thamium-9 and zinc, theodd crystals of plutonium. But that was all irrelevant to me at the moment, because straight ahead, an enormousgreen polygon flashed across my screen. Gold (Neutral-Rare), my scan said. I was speechless. The ore towered over me, easily 25 or 30 meters tall and twice that much around. Thescan helpfully showed that it continued underground as well, extending deep into the crust of the planet. Therewas more in this one deposit than all the gold I had ever seen, put together, and as I turned my gaze beyond it, Icould see others peppered across the hills. I counted half a dozen without even taking a step. 29

30

My heart pounded; my face went hot. I went into autopilot, hardly thinking about what I was doing. I tore open my cargo doors and searchedfrantically through the bay, trying to track down necessary materials from piles that had been sitting unsorted formonths. I was vaguely aware of the day getting colder, and the star Subravexa sinking toward the far side of thisstrange world, but I paid it no real attention; finally, after I had improvised a few parts and gotten the mostobscure elements coaxed from their hidden corners, I had what I needed. One Autonomous Mining Unit was helpful. The dozens I had just put together would be an absolutenecessity. I set them to work on the gold, still having trouble believing this was actually happening. The noise theymade as they bored, crushed, and processed blended together into a constant hum, creating a strangelyharmonious testament to the power of the technology I possessed. With them in place, I went back to the cargohold and stared into it, thinking hard. My ship was loaded with upgrades that kept me safe and mobile during the long jaunts between stars. As aTraveller, exploration was our primary objective, not trading or warfare, so I usually kept just enough space free toload up on supplies, and maybe a slot or two for an exotic trinket or keepsake. I had never had the resources toget a bigger ship or the biggest weapons, and I made do with my limited space. But now it was a problem. This was a very rare opportunity, a perfect confluence of events that had cometogether to make me desperate to carry back as much gold as I could: the more I bring, the quicker I can get abigger ship and better tools. The fact was, the current upgrades were taking up a lot of space. I looked at them,lined up in rows with their wires and glowing innards, and frowned. There was no way around what I had to do. Iwould just have to do it. 31

I began ripping the tech from the circuit integrators. Upgraded firepower – out. Cannon cooling – gone.Shield boosters, warp reactors, pulse engine optimizers – I disassembled them all. My gloved fingers weren’t asdelicate as I would’ve liked, and more than once I watched precious materials shatter in my hands or crumble intodust; I plowed forward, recouping what I could and then purging any common elements, like iron or carbon.Anything irreplaceable, I kept – I decided I was willing to sacrifice a couple of slots to save me the hassle oftraipsing through half the planets in the galaxy, trying to find a source of omegon. I stepped back to catch my breath and admired my achievement. The inside of the ship seemed cavernousnow, waiting to carry its payload to the station that orbited high above, and I hurried over to the AMUs to check onthem. Already they were bringing in pure ore, metallic and shiny in the glow from the setting star.I got back to work transferring the gold over, and by the time I had cycled through all the AMUs the first oneswere filled again. It was the perfect loop, and before long, I had made a sizeable dent in the side of the goldencolumn. It looked eerie now against the dark sky, like a grotesque and oversized insect nest where terrible thingslurked. As thrilled as I was about this jackpot, as Subravexa sank further below the horizon I noticed a creepingfeeling of unease making its way into my thoughts. This was not the first time I’d been all alone on some desolateworld in the middle of its night – but I was also hoping that it wouldn’t be the last. I wasn’t even sure why I felt so anxious, either. Since I had landed some hours earlier, I hadn’t seen a singlespecies of mobile living creature, and even if there had been any, there were no landscape features for them tohide behind. Sneaking up on me would have been next to impossible. I eventually chalked it up to feelingoverprotective of my good fortune – while they had built no sites on the surface, I did see Gek ships skirting theupper atmosphere, no doubt wondering if they should come down to the world where no one else dared to tread. Except me, that is. The intrepid Traveller. 32

Remembering the Cloud interface’s daily reminder – explore and experience – I took a break from pouringgold into my ship to run the planet’s data through the name generator. It returned the name Autrovo, which Idutifully applied to the rest of the file that the Scanner had filled in. Out of habit, I hit the suit Scanner one lasttime before uploading the information; it didn’t happen very often, but sometimes you got lucky and found a last-minute jackpot. I spun in a lazy circle. Nothing, nothing, noth – In a broad valley beside the gold column, a group of purple icons shot into my HUD, grabbing my attention.I’d have to go over there and see what they were for myself, but whatever they turned out to be, they would bevaluable. Purple always meant valuable. I nearly ran down the valley, stopping only to pull some crystals of thamium-9 off the low-hanging branchesof an overloaded bush on the way. I shoved what I could into the reservoir for my life support system, whichimmediately beeped loudly and confirmed the recharge, and stuffed the rest into storage. Panting loudly, I was close enough to see what had pinged the Scanner now. On the ground, in a neat littlegroup, were four perfectly smooth spheres of black and violet. I skidded to a halt, hesitant to get too close. Gravitino balls. Not only was this planet full of gold, but it also had gravitino balls literally lying around,waiting to be picked up. I was looking at nearly a hundred thousand Units’ worth of money. It wasn’t enough for aship, but it would still go a long way toward some upgrades. I knew I had to take the right precautions in order to harvest these. Tales told over many trading tablesdiscussed unlucky pilots who tried to simply walk up and take a mature gravitino ball from where it lay; unawareof the intensity of the distress signal the balls emitted, it was the last thing that many of those pilots ever saw. An 33

instant of momentary greed and distraction, and then all of a sudden – they were blind, jobless, pitiful wrecks. Ididn’t want to suffer the same fate. I had to plan this out. Making note of where I was, I retraced my steps back up to the ship and dismantledthe AMUs, shoving the gold ore into the cargo hold with the rest of it. Once again, I dropped anything unnecessaryand common, like the piles of iron that I didn’t want to haul around. Trying to think ahead, I filled my pulseengines first, ensuring a trip back to the station as smooth as the previous one. It took some creative packing, but at last I had a free slot waiting in the cargo hold, ready to hold thegravitinos. Grabbing one of my extra bags, I flipped down the sun shade on my visor and set off back down thehill, using my jetpack to shorten the journey. This is almost too easy, I was thinking. I had been exploring planets for a long time, and had neverencountered a planet with so little, yet so much, to offer. I approached the balls slowly, looking away as I got closer. After a few minutes of this, it seemed like I washardly even moving forward anymore, and I was starting to think that maybe I had mistaken some regular stonesfor extremely precious resources. That’s when they all lit up, one after the other – brighter than the brightestbeacon I could build, or the best starship spotlights on the market. I had heard of this phenomenon, but never seen it up close. The light washed over me and cast a sharplydefined shadow back in the direction I had come; it was difficult to see anything due to the brightness. No wonderthese were used for all kinds of technology – the energy coursing through this was immense. To think that thesewere a naturally occurring resource – it seemed far too complicated to be the case. I inched closer and reached out a hand, feeling around on the ground until I closed my fingers around one ofthe spheres. It radiated no heat, and aside from the light seemed totally unresponsive to my touch. I bagged it and 34

35

repeated the process until I had taken all four. I threw the satchel over my shoulder and began my trek back up the hillside. I hadn’t gone more than adozen paces, and was reaching for my jetpack throttle, when a very angry and irritated bzzzzz shot through thetwilight – headed right for me. 36

III AUTROVO [SURVIVAL] (LAND COORDINATES: VAHN) I froze. Past experience told me that when dealing with hostile life, a few seconds of reading the situationwas always preferable to shooting wildly; in addition, the brightness of the gravitinos had reduced my visionsubstantially, so I wasn’t even sure what I was dealing with just yet. I blinked, squinting in the direction the soundhad come from, and struggled to make out the source of it. I saw a soft blue ring of light, floating in the air, analyzing me as it got closer. Sentinel. I had run into more of these machines than I ever cared to know, and whatever their history and origin, wewere usually apathetic to each other – I was no hunter, no warrior, no destroyer of worlds, and that seemed to be 37

38

good enough for them. Most of the time they did their scan and went on their way, so I held my breath, hopingthat would happen here. As it hovered, performing what seemed to be the galaxy’s most drawn-out and scrutinous scan, I chanced afurtive look at the data from my own, done just moments before. The weather, it said, was moderate, and floranonexistent; Autrovo also lacked any fauna, meaning I was the only living thing on this entire planet. My blood went cold when I saw what it did have, though: sentinels. Plenty of them. And they wereconsidered Threatening – they shot, more or less, on sight. Everything was an enemy to them here, especiallyinterlopers who had landed and then started ripping resources from its surface without a second thought. On cue, the lights on the drone’s scanner turned a fiery red, and two crackling bolts erupted from itsmounted gun. I reacted instantly, dodging to the side with a bit of help from my jetpack. In a move I had practiced plenty oftimes, I let go of the throttle and immediately drew my multi-tool from its holster, and before I even hit the ground,I was returning fire. I pumped the trigger madly, launching shots of pure energy directly into the sentinel’s delicatecircuitry. I was connecting, but it was taking too long, and I knew it. My tool was meant for mining, not for combat,and its bolts were next to useless against the sentinels – who, for all their usual apathy, were unequivocallydedicated to following through on an attack once it had begun. Their commitment to finishing off their targets waslegendary, so I gritted my teeth and kept firing, hoping – needing – to take this one out before it called any othersfor reinforcement. Too late. I heard a mechanical shriek tear through the night air, and felt a searing heat against the back ofmy arm. I leaped sideways, grateful that I’d kept my life support systems and shields charged in my suit, and saw 39

that another sentinel had come up from behind me and was now just as frenzied as the first. They came at me,weapons firing, with their sensors glowing a bloody red. I gave up on trying to do this quietly, and went for a new approach. Taking just an instant to aim andcalculate trajectory, I hit the bumper on the side of my multi-tool and felt it kick with recoil. A plasma grenadeemerged from the barrel, arcing with dark glee toward its target, and I looked away as it connected. The plainflooded with bright light for a fraction of a second, and neutrino modules and pugneum scattered in all directions.The drone’s central fuel canister hit the dirt and rolled away, picking up speed as it descended the hill. I had no time to savor the victory, as the other sentinel was still coming at me with cold and incessantpurpose. I flicked my eyes to my tool’s counter, and saw that I had one grenade shot left before I had to recharge;that was all I needed. I sidestepped the blasts from its gun, and took aim as it waited for the turret to cool down. I was about topull the trigger when I saw the Quad. I had run into these before, but never in a situation like this; I had never had to directly engage with one,and usually only got a rare glimpse as I flew overhead on hostile planets. I had, of course, heard plenty of storiesfrom boastful traders, who claimed they had taken on two or three at a time, and didn’t even get a scratch.Looking at this one, up close and unavoidable, my gut told me that I didn’t even want to encounter a single oneout here in the open. It zeroed in on me, pointing its sensors to my location, and then halted, keeping its distance. It took a lowstance, spreading out its legs for support, and I saw a worryingly large laser barrel swing around on its back. Itseemed to me that it was preparing for a large amount of recoil, and I suddenly realized how all of these actionswere related. 40

I dove aside, abandoning the bag of gravitino balls as I jumped for my life. A sizzling orange beam – not justa bolt, but a sustained beam – sliced into the air where I had just been, and carried on into the hillside. I saw thespongy green moss ignite beneath the impact site, and molten iron oozed from the jagged scar in the dirt. I whipped around and let loose with my last plasma grenade, trying to hit the Quad on its turret or in whatyou would call its face, where all the sensors were. I hadn’t taken the time to properly aim in my panic, and thegrenade arced gracefully before harmlessly exploding on the ground in front of the Quad’s forelegs. It wasn’t a direct hit, but the terrain blew outwards and then collapsed into a hole, bringing the big sentineldown with it. Its legs scrabbled against the cascading soil, finding no grip in the loose stones, and its front halfdisappeared downwards. The laser on its back shot another irate beam in my general direction, missing me by amuch safer margin, before the rest of it vanished as well. I could hear it clanking and shrieking, trying to claw itsway out. The hole probably wouldn’t hold it for long. I picked up a handful of rocks and hurled them at the floating sentinel drone as it tried to get close,smashing one of its lights and causing its engines to sputter and choke. It dropped a little, rose up again, and thenfell another half-meter toward the ground. Knowing I had to act fast, I stood up, ready to take full advantage ofthe few spare seconds. Grabbing the spare thamium-9 I had picked up on my way down here, I recharged my plasma launcher,keeping one eye on the recovering drone. I had six shots ready to go just as the sentinel was back in action, and –not wanting it to evade me – I pre-emptively attacked. With a scream of frustration, I charged. The drone tried to reverse, but hadn’t anticipated me rushing up toit; I easily leaped up and grabbed the gun mounted to the underside. It resisted, but I weighed much more than itdid. 41

My feet touched the ground again, and I felt the rage well up in me that they had interrupted my peacefulmining expedition, and caused such a major problem. I dropped my multi-tool, hooked my other hand aroundsome wires on the other end of the sentinel, and pulled hard. Sparks flew, and a terrifyingly loud alarm rang out. Iwound up and pitched the whole machine into the pit with the Quad, which was now halfway out and nearly readyto fire at me again. I picked up the multi-tool, aimed – more carefully than the last shot – and lobbed two plasma grenades intothe pit. Two explosions rang out, and I was showered in dirt, pugneum, and pieces of weaponry and electronics.All went silent, except for my heavy breathing; I sank to my knees, hands shaking, and took a few long, deepbreaths to help calm my pounding heart, but it hardly made a difference. I had to get out of here. I stood up and walked over to the bag of gravitino balls. All of them had rolled out, and only one hadn’t keptgoing all the way down the hill; I had no desire to go and get them. I turned back up the hill, ready to head back tothe ship, when I heard an absolutely blood-chilling bellow. I didn’t even want to look. I knew that whatever I saw would make the foes I just faced look paltry incomparison. I could tell just by the scale of the noise it made. But I had to turn, I had to see; ignorance was not anoption when you needed every possible advantage. I turned, and my stomach sank through the planet all the way to the core. Another deafening roar boomedacross the valley toward me, and for the first time in a long time, I had fear – real, paralyzing, immense fear – thatI might not make it off this planet alive. Stomping toward me was a sentinel class I had never seen before. I recognized the form, and the danger Ifound myself in, only from secondhand stories I had heard from traders, swapping their false bravado. 42

43

It stood nearly ten meters tall, with two long hydraulic legs that moved it rapidly across the ground. Perchedon top of those was a central core, outfitted with radar, sensors, a massive laser cannon, and a tracking beacon –no doubt to draw other sentinels directly to it, should it need assistance. I barely had time to register all of thisbefore it fired. I tried to jump out of the way, but wasn’t fast enough. Shooting pain rocked me from head to toe as I wasknocked down, slamming into the dirt with my full weight. My suit’s alarms all went off in unison, and deepcrimson filled my HUD to let me know I was injured. Still the assault didn’t stop, coming again and again; fourtimes I was hit, each one more fiery and agonizing than the last. Finally the beam stopped, letting the built-up heat dissipate from the sentinel’s mounted gun. But it keptwalking, covering in one stride what I would in six or seven. Outrunning this thing was not an option – I wouldhave to disable it. Struggling to move, I half-shuffled, half-crawled over to the hole where the other sentinels had met theirdemise. It was my best shot at getting this Walker off-balance, and I didn’t think I would get two chances. I dug my heels into the ground, pushing away from the approaching behemoth. It bellowed once more, aneven more jarring and deafening sound up close; I didn’t know what capacity the sentinels had for thoughts ofrevenge and anger, but this one definitely sounded enraged. I fought to put distance between us, pulling on handfuls of slippery moss and mostly just ripping it awayfrom the rocks it grew upon. It hardly made a difference. Soon the dull shadow of its titanic legs fell across me. The beast paused, a low susurrus flowing from its core. I rolled over to face it, hoping that my suit shieldshad enough reserves to withstand a second attack – even though I knew there was no way they could. Its turret 44