Aptitude gained; flux accumulation.

  Aptitude gained; chemosynthesis.

  With those two announcements, several changes occurred. First, a subtle energy became noticeable in the environment that wasn’t there before, as if Umi had grown an extra nose, or another pair of ears. This energy was sparse, but prevalent, occupying almost every fraction of the airspace, and even seeping into the ground.

  Most importantly, Umi could also feel a light scattering of it permeating his frame, seemingly attracted to the ionized materials in his frame. Like in the fusion cells located in his chest cavity.

  Three of four had been irreparably damaged. The last, while dangerously deformed, was still intact.

  Something or someone had given him a second chance, Umi understood. What his odds of survival anymore didn’t matter to him. Hope was enough, and Umi clung to it like he was dangling off the side of a precipice, hanging above a bottomless abyss, not daring to loosen his grip for even a second. A branch was extended, and now he could climb.

  With a thought, he could sense an approximation of how much energy was inside him and in the immediate area. Flux, it was called? The programs were dense and unfamiliar, and with a single processor searching for other instances of the word, it took a few hours before Umi constructed a rough idea of what Flux was. An alternative energy source, though one he was hardly equipped to process. However, it appeared this problem had already been taken into account.

  With a command, Umi disconnected the unusable fuel cells. With another, Flux began to flow and coalesce within the last, merging into indiscernible bits of mass. Hydrogen.

  The process though, was painfully laborious. Everytime Umi’s body ran out of Flux, he had to wait until more circulated into his body, almost a snail’s pace with how motionless his surroundings were. All the while his reserves were still leaking. After half a day of repeating this process, the fuel for the fusion cell reached the base value for jumpstarting.

  Booting fusion cell program… Beginning manual activation at lowest level… Warning. Power leak detected. Override detected. Charging… Operation executing… Initial fusion confirmed… Calibrating… Throughput stabilized at 0.5%.

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  With a soft hum, the loudest of the warning signs finally vanished. Without wasting time, Umi calibrated the throughput to match the rate he was converting Flux. Seeing that there was a surplus even with the energy leak, Umi finally let his thoughts relax. After letting his processor cool down a bit, Umi formed a catalogue of the most impending issues, and began to analyze them.

  Stellar-mapping and reconnaissance were vital for getting back to his mission, but first, he needed to fix that damn energy leak. Repairs first, questions later. In an hour, Umi had surveyed the worst of the damages, with grim results. Every external instrument that wasn’t reinforced was utterly destroyed. Scanners, radar, spatial locators, long-distance comms, every analytical tool. Only the assembly bed was spared from complete ruin. Without additional equipment or supplies, Umi estimated that only basic functions could be restored. Everything else would have to be salvaged. He was in the middle of calculating how much energy would be required to bring his limbs back online when his thoughts were interrupted.

  Umi dropped all activity and became vigilant, the blue glow of his optics dimming to the lowest level.

  Loud clanging bounced off of the walls and echoed in the dark. From this, Umi surmised that he was in a deep ravine of some sort, enclosed by natural barriers. The noise continued, followed by a soft shuffling. Footsteps, Umi guessed. Two pairs, though the sound was irregular, as if caused by a limp. As the footsteps approached, warm light illuminated the space and revealed two robed figures, one supporting the other forwards.

  Adjusting to the brightness, Umi observed the pair and noticed some strange details. Both were humanoid, but closer inspection revealed that instead of skin, the creatures were covered in reddish scales from head to toe. Colorful feathers protruded from their reptilian heads and trailed down their spines and arms, ending in a dangerous looking tail that was adorned with carved stone rings. Shockingly, one was holding a torch, revealing an uneven floor covered in moss and stone walls stretching high above into darkness.

  Umi was stunned. Hundreds of years of exploration, and his people had never even found a hint of sentient life. Now, it had literally just walked on into him. Terra had nothing but dirt, dust, and bacteria for light years in every direction. Where in the world did he end up…?

  While Umi was still recovering from his shock, one of the creatures rolled out a cloth for the other to rest on. The injured one, decorated with emerald green feathers, tried conversing with the other, but was interrupted by a series of hacking coughs. A metallic scent filled the air, tinged with the bitter smell of herbal medicine. The smaller reptile seemed wounded to the point of immobility.

  Just like himself.

  After a few rounds of chittering, the taller reptile dropped a few bags by Green and departed in a hurry, not bothering to check the other’s injuries at all. At first glance, it was severe. The scent of blood wasn’t dissipating, and the cloth beneath Green was becoming stained with red.

  If Green died, who knew how long it would be before Umi saw another person again? Weighing his choices, Umi decided to intervene before it was too late. Picking apart some of the words from the earlier conversation, Umi turned on his damaged comms unit.

  In the midst of a deep ravine surrounded by boundless darkness and deafening silence. Within a small circle of warm light, a soft, broken voice interrupted the desolate atmosphere.

  “Help me, and I will save you.”