NOVA was generating a new design.
"Design generation complete..."
"The optimal design suggests a streamlined shuttle, aesthetically pleasing with designated zones for entertainment, dining, lodging, and fitness."
"The ship's total length is 122.4 meters, width 18.3 meters, and height 14.9 meters. Equipped with five electromagnetic thrusters, it can reach a maximum speed of 293.4 km/s."
Rhett Calder's lips twitched. It was too extravagant. This was less of a deep-space vessel and more of a cosmic luxury liner—like the Titanic, adrift in the void.
"I need something faster."
"Generating a revised design..."
"New parameters set: prioritizing speed. The updated design extends the ship's length to 332.5 meters, width to 67.1 meters, and height to 55 meters. It now features eleven electromagnetic thrusters, pushing the maximum speed to 875.9 km/s."
Even at that velocity, the journey to Proxima Centauri would take 1,446 years.
"Still not fast enough."
NOVA, now running in persistent voice-listening mode, offered another suggestion.
"You may manufacture cryogenic sleep chambers to sustain you through the voyage."
That was the best NOVA could come up with.
As an engineer, Rhett Calder knew that achieving a better solution meant increasing computational power—but that required a vast energy supply, something this ship simply couldn't provide.
Unless…
"Wait!"
An idea sparked in his mind.
"NOVA, can you design a controlled fusion reactor?"
With NOVA's computing power, achieving controlled nuclear fusion wasn't entirely impossible. By 2037, humanity was already on the brink of mastering it—likely within a century of achieving success. The challenge wasn't the process itself but the materials: insulation and superconductors capable of withstanding the extreme temperatures of fusion reactions, which could soar to millions, even billions of degrees Celsius.
"Fully feasible."
NOVA's response sent a thrill through Rhett. If he could overcome the energy constraints, NOVA's capabilities would expand indefinitely, dramatically increasing his chances of survival.
"Then let's set sail!"
"Course plotted: heading to the asteroid belt to harvest resources for constructing the fusion reactor."
The ship deployed its solar panels and adjusted its trajectory using auxiliary thrusters.
One hundred days.
A quantifiable stretch of time.
It took Rhett Calder precisely one hundred days to reach the asteroid belt. The sight of the sprawling, floating debris nearly brought tears to his eyes. The monotony of deep space had been suffocating—his only companion an AI. Even gaming had lost its thrill, reduced to offline, single-player boredom. His social apps were ghost towns, every profile picture grayed out, every connection severed.
As the ship approached a 12-kilometer-wide asteroid, its pockmarked surface reflected metallic glints from impact craters.
"Analyze asteroid composition."
NOVA swiftly processed the high-resolution camera feeds.
"Analysis complete. Primary elements: iron, followed by magnesium, with traces of copper and aluminum."
"Magnesium and aluminum can be used for lightweight alloys, ideal for constructing large robotic frames. And iron—steel will form the backbone of our production capacity."
"Rhett Calder, we can establish a factory on this asteroid."
He had instructed NOVA to call him by name—it made the AI feel more human. With its advanced ChatGPT 15.8 integration, NOVA occasionally responded with eerily lifelike interactions.
Iron, magnesium, copper, and aluminum were relatively abundant in space. This asteroid was promising; while the belt contained dwarf planets, their resources were far harder to extract.
Under NOVA's control, the ship descended onto the asteroid's surface.
During the previous 100 days, Rhett had thoroughly inventoried the ship's supplies. He now wheeled out a massive 3D printer from storage—a behemoth weighing over a ton.
He checked its model.
"C9200—A flagship model. Damn, someone really spared no expense."
This printer retailed for around seven million credits. More importantly, it was capable of printing metal components independently.
He connected the printer to the ship's power supply.
"NOVA, take control of the 3D printer."
"Commencing fabrication: mining drones."
Over the past three months, Rhett had studied the fundamentals of controlled fusion. Though he wasn't an expert, he understood the steps required to climb this technological ladder.
Exploring the ship's cargo, he discovered two critical systems—a greenhouse module and a water-air recycler. These were meant to support an additional storage unit.
A seed vault.
The ship's primary mission had been to assess Mars's colonization potential, so it carried a vast supply of seeds. This was excellent news. The onboard food reserves were dwindling—mostly ration bars and compressed meals. For three months, he had rationed every bite, hoping to synthesize nutrients from asteroid materials.
Now, with these seeds, sustenance was within reach.
Among them, two crops stood out: rice and soybeans—staples rich in carbohydrates and protein.
But first, he needed to secure his immediate survival.
Without hesitation, he dismantled parts of the greenhouse and recycler, tossing the components into the 3D printer.
"No choice."
"Right now, controlled fusion and a real spaceship matter more."
The printer was agonizingly slow.
It took a week before he had a batch of components.
Piece by piece, he assembled the parts, wiring them together with salvaged circuits.
A small drone, about 40 centimeters tall, came to life.
It had a clawed manipulator on one side and a drill on the other. Treads provided mobility, and extendable stabilizers allowed it to anchor itself to the asteroid's surface.
"This thing... looks underwhelming."
"No worries, Rhett Calder. While it may be small, I can control it with precision."
"With my intelligence, even a rock can turn to gold."
For now, he chose to believe it.
Due to limited batteries, the drone relied on a tethered power cable.
Rhett had to venture outside, exiting the ship to establish the external power connection.
This was his first extravehicular spacewalk.
He shut off the oxygen valve, donned his spacesuit—clumsy but familiar. He had visited aerospace expos before, so he wasn't entirely clueless about its operation.
Securing the tether, he stepped to the airlock, took a deep breath, and twisted the handle.
The internal atmosphere rushed out, propelling him into the void. His tether snapped taut, jerking him to a halt.
Clutching the line, he hauled himself back toward the ship's hull, heart pounding. This vessel was his only sanctuary.
Following NOVA's guidance, he found the external power port.
The drone remained inside, but its tether was coiled around his waist. He detached it and locked the connector into place.
Just as he was about to return to the ship—
A sudden flash.
A high-energy beam struck his helmet.
The next moment, it scorched through his suit.
"Sizzle—"
The fabric melted.