Finally, Ethan sat at his desk, staring at the blank holographic screen hovering before him. The stillness of the room contrasted sharply with the excitement and determination swirling inside him. The hum of the ventilation system was the only sound breaking the silence, a faint rhythm that seemed to match the steady thrum of his heart. He took a deep breath and leaned back.
"Tomorrow," he muttered to himself, his voice low but firm, "everything changes. Tomorrow, the Star Forge will be mine."
The weight of those words hung in the air like a proclamation. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to fully embrace the significance of this step. In his mind, he pictured the vast industrial complex that would soon belong to him—an automated Tier-2 shipyard that could rival even some of the older Tier-1 facilities in output and efficiency. A shipyard with infinite potential. His shipyard.
A small, confident smile tugged at his lips. "The future is mine to forge. Nothing will stand in my way."
The words rang with quiet conviction, but his resolve didn't stop his pulse from quickening. It felt real now, closer than ever before. He pushed away from his desk, stood up, and stretched his tense muscles. He paced toward the bed, shaking his head with a faint, self-mocking laugh.
"Calm down, Ethan. You'll need sleep for tomorrow."
But sleep never came. He lay there, staring at the dark ceiling, anticipation buzzing through every fiber of his being. His mind wouldn't stop, wouldn't slow down. Thoughts circled like predators, one after another—plans, numbers, hopes, and doubts.
You've done it, Ethan, he told himself, rolling onto his side. You're finally getting the Star Forge—a Tier-2 shipyard that could rival facilities managed by entire corporations. A rush of pride swelled in his chest, but the triumph was short-lived.
Reality hit him like a punch to the gut. "Yeah… but I'm almost broke now," he whispered into the silence, as though admitting it made it more real. His brain started running the math, unasked but unstoppable.
"125,000 GSG credits for the shipyard… out of my hard-earned 152,000. That leaves me with what? 27,000? Not much to work with." He groaned and rolled onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes as though it could block out his spiraling thoughts.
"Sure, 27,000 GSG sounds small," he muttered bitterly, "but it's not. One GSG credit is worth 200 Indra credits… that's still a fortune to most people. Just not enough for anything big."
His thoughts swirled into a familiar storm of uncertainty. What if this doesn't work? What if you burn through your credits and have nothing to show for it? He pushed those doubts away, gritting his teeth. "No," he said aloud, his voice low but steady. "I'll make it work."
He sat up sharply, running his hands through his hair, and stared into the dark expanse of his room. You need to think smart, Ethan. Be practical. Find your edge. He forced himself to slow his breathing, his mind clawing for focus. What could he design? What ship would prove himself to the market?
And then, like lightning cutting through a storm, inspiration struck.
"Wait… those ships…" Ethan froze, his eyes widening as his pulse quickened. The image was so vivid, so clear, it felt like his past world had come roaring back to life. "The Vicktor-class Escort Frigate!"
He shot out of bed, pacing the room, the faint glow of starlight streaming through the window lighting his movements. That ship—that design—wasn't just nostalgic. It was genius. Back in his old world, the frigate had been a marvel of efficiency and power. It wasn't the largest or deadliest warship, but it had been versatile, compact, and devastatingly effective for its size and cost. A workhorse for smaller fleets.
"In the Galactic Domain," he murmured, almost breathless, "a frigate like that could fall squarely into the Tier-2 mid-range warship category. It's not the biggest, but its advantages are undeniable. And if I redesign it… if I improve it…"
The possibilities cascaded through his mind. Ethan could see it—a sleeker hull with reduced drag for more efficient warp jumps. Modular weapon slots that could adapt to any fleet's needs. Upgraded shield systems for survivability. Modern warp engines licensed from cutting-edge tech companies.
"I'll make it better," Ethan said aloud, his voice stronger now, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I'll take the foundation of that design and turn it into something revolutionary. Faster production. Lower costs. More adaptable systems. This won't just be a Vicktor-class frigate—it'll be my frigate. And I'll sell it to fleets across the Domain."
He stopped pacing and looked up at the faint stars visible through his window, his heart pounding with excitement. "This is it. This is how I'll start."
But as the rush of adrenaline ebbed, something heavier settled over him. Ethan sank onto the edge of his bed, his gaze softening. "It's not just about the Star Forge," he whispered to himself. His voice faltered, softer now. "It's a step forward. Toward them."
He closed his eyes, and the image of his parents flickered in his mind—so vivid it felt like they were right there. His mother's warm smile. His father's quiet strength. The memories were a double-edged blade—comforting, yet agonizing in their clarity.
"This is why I fight," he thought, his fists clenching against the sheets. "To build power. To find a way back. I'll see them again—no matter how long it takes."
Choosing the Star Forge wasn't just a business decision. It was his declaration to the universe, a step toward carving out the legacy he needed to bridge the impossible distance between him and home. One ship at a time.
The room was quiet again, but this time, it felt different. Less empty. As though his resolve had filled every corner.
Ethan lay back down, staring at the ceiling with tired but determined eyes. Sleep tugged at him, soft and insistent. As his body finally surrendered, his last thoughts were filled with visions of the frigate—his frigate—flying across the stars, bearing his name and carrying him closer to his ultimate goal.
Tomorrow, everything would change. The Star Forge would be his, and Ethan would begin forging a path no one had ever walked before.
And so, as dawn broke and the faintest light crept into the room, Ethan finally slept. For the first time in weeks, his dreams were filled with hope—dreams of ships, stars, and a long-awaited reunion.