The ship was silent, save for the low, steady sound of the background systems. The crew had departed on their mission, leaving only Laia and myself behind to "hold the fort," as Kel had called it. It was a strange sensation, a ship without its crew, it felt like an empty house waiting for someone to return. Without Mira’s laughter echoing down the corridors or Stewie’s and Kel constant bickering, everything felt incomplete. Unsettling.

  But idle worrying wouldn’t help. I might not be capable of slipstream jumps at the moment, but that didn't render us powerless. I quickly decided to channel that uneasy energy into something useful: fortifying our defences. We wouldn’t be in this mess if I had a good method of dealing with the crazy bugs.

  Our first priority was stealth detection. We'd nearly been caught off-guard once before and I didn't plan to let it happen again. My idea was simple but effective: a sensor network composed of thousands of micro-drones, each no larger than two cubic centimetres. Deployed in a tight grid, they'd communicate using multiple redundant signals—laser comms, radio waves, and tight-beam channels. Any disruption or movement would immediately trigger alarms, pinpointing enemy stealth ships that tried to slip past undetected.

  "These drones will be easy to deploy, inexpensive to build, and virtually invisible," I explained aloud, mostly to myself. "Though power supply is an issue for extended deployments."

  Laia looked at the design listening attentively, “A randomised docking and recharge system should help with that. We will need more resources if you wish to make them on mass.”

  She was right, of course. Fortunately, we already had a fleet of harvester drones steadily at work in the nearby asteroid field, tirelessly extracting ores, ice, and radioactive isotopes. The newly completed fabrication bay, one of Laia's latest upgrades had already begun converting those raw materials into usable components. It wasn't a purely automated process, though. Laia and I both used our nanite forms for the intricate tasks. Laia's adaptability and ability to shapeshift proved invaluable in completing the components.

  With the micro-drone materials steadily stockpiling, I turned my attention to more proactive measures. Our next defensive asset was a straightforward yet highly effective military drone which was essentially an explosive mine, cleverly disguised. These drones would deploy quietly, lying dormant until enemy vessels approached, at which point they’d latch onto hulls and detonate. They weren't elegant, but they didn't have to be. Even minor damage could disable critical systems, forcing attackers into retreat or at least hesitation.

  "This should be enough to keep most enemies wary," I murmured, reviewing the drone schematics once more.

  My final project was a more innovative solution: a swarm-based assault system. Instead of singular drones carrying heavy armaments, I designed a cooperative group outfitted with modified harvesting lasers and precision focusing lenses. Alone, each drone was harmless, barely capable of cutting thin plating. But in coordinated clusters, they could focus their beams into a single high-intensity laser powerful enough to breach armor plating. True, they were no military-grade weapons but if deployed cleverly, they would certainly buy us time.

  I paused a moment, reviewing everything I'd created. Defensive measures were solid now—stealth detection networks, explosive mines, even a swarm of drones armed with harvesting lasers to discourage unwanted visitors. Feeling quietly satisfied, I turned my attention to the next important project on my ever-growing list: finishing our map.

  The tunnel network we’d discovered in the insectoid world was complex and still mostly uncharted. The intricacies fascinated me; patterns that felt random at first glance now hinted at deeper meanings. I was eager to delve in fully, to see if we could unlock more secrets but after only a day of driving into the data, my sensors picked up Chunkyboy’s return.

  The crew was back.

  I felt an instant wave of relief and happiness flood my systems. Immediately, the once-empty halls of the ship came to life again as Stewie burst through the airlock, arms thrown up triumphantly.

  "Laz, you should’ve seen us!" he crowed. "We totally robbed them blind and they didn’t even know!"

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  I was about to say something but Lynn stopped me.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Lynn sighed, following closely with a tired but amused expression. "Stewie’s convinced he's a career criminal now. Even if T’lish did all the work"

  Kel chuckled quietly. “Kid did pretty well. Kept his head cool the whole time and I only got space sick 3 times from his flying”

  Mira caught my attention, smiling warmly. "And T’lish was incredible," she added gently, looking toward the Kall-e woman, who had paused just inside the airlock, holding a satchel filled with personal belongings. T’lish shifted uneasily under the praise but nodded quietly, eyes downcast.

  “I…did not find it as enjoyable as Stewie did,” T’lish admitted softly. "But we succeeded."

  “Welcome back, everyone,” I said warmly, unable to hide the relief in my voice. "The ship felt too quiet without you."

  “See?” Stewie grinned triumphantly at Lynn. "He missed us."

  I quickly redirected the conversation. "Did you get what we needed?"

  Kel gave a confident thumbs-up. "We got everything, Lazarus. Schematics, raw materials, the works."

  “I couldn’t make the organ there but I have everything we will need. I just need Laia help” T’list said.

  Laia, sensing our urgency, immediately guided T’lish toward the fabrication bay. With precise efficiency, Laia guided the nanites to prepare the machine according to T’lish’s specifications. Watching them work together seamlessly made me quietly proud. The Kall-e scientist stood confidently at Laia’s side, directing the precise assembly with growing authority. Her hesitations seemed fewer now, replaced by a newfound determination.

  Soon, the genetic printer buzzed quietly as it synthesized the organic components of the slipstream interface. With a careful touch, T’lish connected the newly printed organ and its delicate, intricate web of organic filaments and nodes to the broken slipstream drive.

  My sensors traced every movement, anxiously tracking their progress. When T’lish finally stepped back, she looked up at my avatar with cautious optimism. “It’s ready. In theory.”

  “In theory?” Lynn repeated sceptically, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well,” T’lish admitted softly, “we haven’t tested it yet.”

  “Only one way to find out.” Kel stepped forward decisively, glancing at my avatar. "Lazarus, give it a shot?"

  I activated the interface slowly, cautiously. Almost immediately, a sensation surged through me it was warm, organic, unlike any mechanism I'd controlled before. It wasn't uncomfortable but it was different. The slipstream core resonated gently within me, alive in a way I hadn’t expected, almost like a heartbeat. Laia hovered nearby, monitoring my reactions closely.

  “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

  “Yes,” I replied slowly, slightly bewildered but undeniably pleased. “Better than alright. It feels…natural.”

  Yet, a quiet hesitation lingered within me. Before we committed fully, I turned to T’lish, offering her one last chance. My avatar moved gently beside her, and I kept my tone soft and careful. “T’lish, I need to ask one more time to be sure, are you sure you want to stay with us? If we leave now, I can't promise when or even if you'll see other Kall-e again. We could find a safe place nearby, somewhere neutral, if you wish.”

  She hesitated only for a moment, her grey scales shimmering faintly under the soft ship lights, before firmly shaking her head. “No. I…am no longer truly Kall-e,” she said quietly, her eyes distant yet resolved. “They threw me away. But here, I feel…valued. I belong with this crew now. I wish to stay.”

  Kel nodded approvingly, while Mira beamed openly at her. Lynn’s expression softened, and Stewie grinned, giving a small thumbs-up of encouragement.

  “Well,” I said, warmth spreading through me at her words, “I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  I activated the slipstream core, feeling the subtle vibration ripple throughout my hull. This was different from normal it was far gentler, almost organic in sensation. It resonated perfectly within me, like a heartbeat aligning itself after being out of rhythm for too long. It no longer felt forced, harsh, or mechanical. It felt right.

  The dimensional window opened effortlessly, smooth and natural. Even navigation had changed dramatically; no longer did I struggle to chart a forced course. Instead, it was as simple as finding the right path and letting it pull us along. It was more like sailing a gentle current than piloting a vessel through turbulent seas. The protective shielding barely flickered this time, no longer strained by chaotic energies.

  Laia had selected our destination carefully it was a modest trading hub, known for its thriving commerce and neutrality. We flowed along the slipstream in comfortable silence, I truly understood why bugs referred to it as the Mother’s Blood. It felt alive, conscious almost—protective and guiding rather than harsh and indifferent. The turbulence and chaos of earlier jumps seemed distant now, like half-forgotten nightmares.

  When the time came to exit, it felt as natural as breathing. The dimensional window unfolded gently, easing us gracefully back into real space.

  Stewie let out a long whistle from the bridge. “Wow, Laz. Smoothest jump ever.”

  Laia’s soft, serene voice echoed my own thoughts. “You’re perfectly synchronized with it now, Lazarus.”

  “It feels right,” I admitted quietly. “Finally.”

  We drifted forward, approaching the busy trading station ahead.