Reborn in The Legendary Mechanic

I paced the corridors of my ship, gazing at the multidimensional hologram floating in front of me, loaded into my communicator. Now I remembered the name of these devices - handy when you know a little about the universe.

The hologram showed in detail not only the external structure of the Eridian and its characteristics, but also its internal layout. Every compartment was labeled - cabins, hold, armory, engine room. It was all illuminated with a soft blue glow, like a map of some futuristic labyrinth. It was amazing how intuitive this visualization was.

My steps slowed as I approached the door labeled as the captain's quarters. This was where, by the looks of it, I was going to be spending quite a bit of time. Oh well, hopefully she wouldn't disappoint.

Pressing the panel was accompanied by a quiet hiss as the door slid smoothly aside, allowing access inside.

The cabin was surprisingly spacious, especially for a ship of this class. The first thing that caught the eye was the massive computer desk in the center of the room. Above it towered a screen that seemed almost like a command center. A terminal stood against the wall, flickering with a cold blue light.

Three large cabinets of matte black material flanked it. Moving closer, I opened the first one.

In it lay a military uniform. Black, gray-green, blue-all in neutral colors, no patches or identifying marks. Pants, jackets, protective cloaks. The material was tough to the touch, as if made for the most extreme conditions.

Closet two. Everyday clothes. Several dozen sets of T-shirts, shirts and pants. There were also shoes, from light sandals to heavy army boots.

Closet three elicited a slight chuckle. Hats. A whole collection - caps, cylinders, hats, even something resembling pilot helmets. "Why so many hats?" - A thought flashed, but I shrugged and closed the closet.

My gaze fell on the bed. It stood against the far wall, opposite the terminal screen. A single, with a firm but not too firm mattress. I sat down to test the comfort. My back sank pleasantly into the firm surface. "Now that's my kind of thing," I thought, leaning back.

Under the bed, I found several drawers. Opening them, I saw neatly folded linens. White, gray, sometimes with black inserts-the standard colors. There were many sets, as if the ship was preparing for a long voyage.

In the corner of the room, I noticed another door. Curiosity got the best of me, and I headed for it.

The door led to a small but functional bathroom. Snow-white tiles, metal panels with barely visible light lines. Opening drawers, I discovered:

- Toothbrushes and toothpaste;

- Lots of towels of various sizes;

- A first aid kit that looked more serious than a standard first aid kit.

A stack of toilet paper packs towered on a shelf. "At least we don't have to worry about that," I muttered with a slight chuckle.

Returning, I decided to check the computer desk. Its horizontal screen flashed at my touch. A split second of data streamed across the surface, and then a hologram materialized above the desk.

A three-dimensional model of the Eridian appeared before me, floating in the context of the huge hangar where the ship was now located. The hologram rotated slowly, allowing me to see every detail of the hull.

I noted that the hangar was a one-man hangar, clearly private, with a perfectly organized infrastructure. There were plenty of light bulbs, and there was something suspiciously similar to firing points and turrets in the walls, which meant one thing: they hadn't skimped on security here.

"I hope they don't charge me for this," I thought with a little skepticism as I closed the hologram.

Onward through the ship

I moved into the corridors. The next point of inspection was the crew quarters.

The rooms appeared much more modest than my quarters. Space was minimal, plain beds, metal lockers for personal belongings. It was a tolerable standard, however, considering the crew had to spend long missions here.

The room was spacious. A massive desk stood in the center, surrounded by several chairs. From here, there were corridors leading to different sections of the ship.

Kitchen. Compact, but well equipped. Along the walls were appliances ranging from standard ovens to automated machines. My attention was drawn to a large machine that resembled an ATM. The screen activated when I touched it, and I saw, "Food vending machine."

Flipping through the menu, I realized that the machine could prepare meals from available foods as well as from a standard set of nutritional blends.

Opening several refrigerators, I found containers of food. They bore inscriptions like "Nerf Meat" or "Gelakar Fruit." These names were unfamiliar to me, but they looked appetizing.

Gym. A space designed to keep in shape. There were dumbbells, treadmills, tourniquets, tourniquets and other equipment. The bathroom was located in the corner.

I kept moving, feeling the ship slowly becoming clear to me. Ahead of me were the medbay, the armory, and the reactor compartment. 

I entered Sickbay, and the first thing that caught my eye was its size. It was a spacious room, as if designed for emergencies, when several people would need to be attended to at the same time. The walls were lined with terminals, cabinets, and a variety of medical devices. The light was soft, blue-white, almost sterile, creating a sense of cleanliness and order.

The center section was occupied by three massive medical chairs equipped with manipulators. Next to them were devices that looked like giant wristbands. As I got closer, I noticed the inscription on one of them: "Automedic".

- What are you, a marvel of technology? - I muttered, scrutinizing this device.

Unfortunately, even a basic explanation of its operation was not nearby. However, one thing was clear: such things are not created for nothing.

A little to the side was the operating area, separated by a glass partition. Behind it I saw an operating table, and above it - a massive machine with dozens of manipulators shining with built-in tools. The machine looked impressive: scalpels, laser cutters, needles, grippers. A real robot surgeon, capable of performing surgery without human intervention.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I opened several cabinets along the walls. Their contents only reinforced my belief that the ship was designed for serious missions. Medicines, syringes, capsules of some obscure liquid, bandages, sensors. Everything looked professional, but I couldn't understand the purpose of most of the items yet.

"I'll have to study that later," I decided, closing the closet.

The next item was the armory.

The door opened and I found myself in a huge room. The whole space was divided into sections, each of which stored different types of weapons and equipment, and there was also a workshop-like area with various mechanisms, one of which looked suspiciously like a 3D printer.

To the left were 7 compact suits. They were clearly designed for spacewalking. Light, mobile, with a minimum of armor but a solid seal.

On the opposite right were 3 massive black armored suits. No, they weren't just suits. They were true power armor. Plates of armor covered the entire body, reinforced joints hinting at the immense power this thing could provide its user. Near each of the suits were massive guns mounted on racks.

I stepped closer and opened one of the crates underneath the armor. Inside was a black jumpsuit, obviously designed to be worn under the armor. It looked technological, with integrated thermoregulation and sealing systems. Nearby were cables, modules, something that looked like batteries.

The center tables were literally piled with weapons.

First drawer. Pistols, tasers, knives. All in perfect condition.

Second. Grenades: smoke grenades, flash-bang grenades, fragmentation grenades, even ones that resembled plasma grenades.

The third box gave me a real smile.

- Now that's what I call an arsenal.

On racks along the walls there were automatic rifles, grenade launchers, and blasters. Their appearance and inscriptions on their bodies hinted at their deadly power.

But the most interesting thing was waiting for me at the power armor.

I approached one of the suits and saw a control panel. Pressing a button, I activated a manipulator that slowly brought the armor forward. The system worked smoothly, almost silently. As the armor reached the ground, I noticed the screen on the wristband.

- Let's see what you can do.

Pressing a button opened the back of the suit, giving access to the inside. Barely suppressing my excitement, I grabbed the handrail and climbed inside. As soon as the back plate closed, the system came to life.

A blue glow flooded the interior of the helmet, and a holographic panel appeared before my eyes.

Body condition, environment, armor status, tactical map - dozens of indicators flashed before me. The controls were responsive, even too responsive: the slightest movement was given out with great effort, making me feel like a novice driving a race car for the first time.

Next to it stood a massive rifle. It was heavy, but intuitive. The armor system automatically connected the rifle, displaying its parameters

Blaster Lance. Oddly called a spear, though it's a sniper rifle by the looks of it.

Maximum range is 20 kilometers. Twenty! It seems that this rifle is designed not just for combat, but for destroying targets at a strategic distance. The magazine holds up to 1,500 rounds at medium power - and that's just the beginning. "You can load a round..." - flashes through my mind. Well, from the looks of it, one full shot is capable of leaving only ash from the target.

I examine the rifle closely, examining every detail. It's massive, futuristic, with sleek panels that look like they emit menace. The large unit in the back is most likely a place to connect to armor or external power sources.

Technology:

Judging by the information displayed, the blaster uses a high-energy gas to operate. Tibanna. The gas is fed from a special cavity into the mechanism, where it is saturated with energy from a built-in battery or nergia source. It then passes into the activation module, where it turns into a high-energy blob capable of burning through armor and vaporizing obstacles.

Interestingly, tibanna can be replaced with other suitable substances if they have similar properties. This versatility clearly indicates that the weapons are designed for a variety of conditions, from large-scale wars to small-scale conflicts in the far corners of the galaxy.

I turn my attention to the weapons sidebar. Judging by the interface, there is another feature hidden there - the ability to connect to external sources. I open the cover and see an impressive set of connectors and cables.

The connectors look serious. Their quality and quantity indicate that the rifle can be powered not only from the built-in ammunition, but also from other sources - power plants, combat vehicles or even reactors. This allows to increase not only the number of shots, but also their power. Judging by the data on the display, connection to a reactor, for example, will provide the rifle with a stable energy supply, which will allow it to load shots with unprecedented power.

- I'm sure this thing could punch through anything," I muttered, lifting the spear with both hands.

It's heavy, but thanks to my armor, the weight is barely perceptible. The graphs in the interface show the weapon's weight balance and alignment, helping to keep it in perfect alignment.

A few additional control panels are noticeable on the barrel, probably for customizing the firing modes. By default, the "medium mode" is active. Other settings are "loaded shot", "fast pulse", and "ultra long range attack".

I was also interested in the scope. In the helmet's interface it is displayed as a combined optical and thermal sight. When you activate the optics, the screen is filled with a detailed image of the targets. Even the smallest details like breathing in the cold or movements through smoke should be clearly visible.

The armor itself appeared to be powered by a cold fusion reactor. Amazing technology that I had yet to understand.

Reluctantly, I removed the armor and put it back in place using the terminal.

The last item was the reactor compartment.

There were several chairs and terminals here, stacked with complex diagrams. I delved into the information, trying to understand how the plant worked.

The reactor used antihydrogen and hydrogen capsules. The annihilation released tremendous energy, which was stored and channeled to the ship's needs. The stock of pellets was impressive - several thousand pieces, enough for many years.

As I stepped out of the reactor compartment, I felt myself beginning to understand my ship better. It was more than just a means of transportation.

Finally, the hold. When the door opened, I was faced with a vast room stacked with crates, containers, tanks, and machinery. The light coming from the ceiling lamps was soft, but enough to illuminate the entire compartment.

I walked over to the nearest crate, noting that it was sealed with some sort of magnetic lock. Carefully activating a panel on the side, I opened it and found containers of packaged rations. The inscriptions on the packages said that the contents were designed for years of storage. The food looked standard for long flights - nutritious, but probably not particularly tasty.

Nearby were huge tanks labeled, "Water. Recirculation active." The recirculator was built into the wall of the hold and connected to the tanks by massive piping. The life support system was clearly designed for long missions.

On the other side of the hold, I found a section where tools and spare parts were stored. Boxes labeled "Electronics," "Mechanics," and even "Chemicals" stood in rows, as if waiting for their time.

- Not bad, - I muttered, walking around the room. - This ship was clearly designed to be self-contained.

After the hold, I headed back through the corridors of the ship.

Gray and white style.

As I walked down the corridors, I couldn't help but notice the overall style of the ship. Everything, from the walls to the doors, was done in an austere and minimalist style reminiscent of the classic Imperial style from Star Wars.

Sleek panels, neatly integrated lights, clean lines - it all suggested that the ship was designed for efficiency, not beauty. Yet there was an aesthetic to this minimalism, stark and functional.

I finally reached the bridge, or rather, I was back where I'd started. Spacious and technologically advanced, it looked as if it could accommodate the entire command and control team. The centerpiece was the captain's console, surrounded by a dozen and a half terminals. All of them glowed, emitting a soft bluish light.

I sat down in the captain's chair, where I woke up. It was surprisingly comfortable, with wide armrests and built-in control panels.

- Okay, let's see what you can show me," I said, activating the main screen.

- Computer, show me a map of the explored universe.

The screen flashed, and a hologram began to unfold before me. A star map gradually formed, and I felt my breath catch.

It wasn't just a piece of space in front of me. It was a map of a super cluster of galaxies.

Thousands of galaxies, each containing billions of star systems. Glowing dots, hypertunnel lines, markings of forbidden and isolated zones. It all looked exciting and frightening at the same time.

- God," I breathed, studying the map.

When I'd read the book, I'd always thought the action took place across multiple galaxies. It seemed logical, given the scale of the conflict. But now... now I see that the scale of this universe exceeds all my expectations.

- Why, at this scale, are they fighting over resources? - I muttered, staring at the map. - There should be enough room for everyone in this abyss.

The questions were multiplying, but there were no answers yet.

- Computer, display your current location.

A second, and the map narrowed. Now I had a specific galaxy in front of me: Rosen, located in a star field called the Somnium Stars.

- The Somnium Stars... - I repeated, staring at the name. - I'd never heard of it.

That galaxy didn't seem to be mentioned in the book. Either I'm misremembering something, or it's an alternate version of the universe or it just wasn't there.

A further narrowing of the map showed the Nallo star system. I was on the neutral space station Tinos.

- Great, - I said, tilting my head to the side. - I recognized my location, but what was I supposed to do with it?

I closed the map and leaned back in my chair.

I sit in the captain's chair, deep in thought. The screen in front of me still glowed with the hologram of the starfield, thousands of galaxies glowing with tiny lights against the endless darkness. But my gaze was blank, staring not so much at the map as inside myself.

"What now?"

That question had been echoing in my mind since waking up on this ship. I had been given a second chance, and quite suddenly, without warning, without instructions. And although the ship, the technology, and even my own body seemed like something out of the world of science fiction, they didn't answer the main question: what to do next?

Try to go back?

My first thought, obviously, was to go back. Home. Where my friends are, where my family is. Where everything is familiar and understandable. But, uh. why?

I think of my old world, gray and boring. A job that squeezed me like a sponge. Endless days where I counted the hours until the end of my shift. The rare reunions with loved ones that felt more like ritual than true connection.

- For this? - I whisper to myself, frowning.

To go back and get stuck in this rut again? To try to cling to something I lost long ago? Here, in this new world, no one knows me, no one expects anything from me. I'm free.

Free. but confused.

The other option is to leave everything as it is. Find a quiet place, hole up in a corner of the universe, live without war, without risk. The idea is appealing, no argument there.

But I look at the stars on the map, the countless points of light, and I realize it won't work. This universe is full of violence. I know there will be many decisions in the future that I might not want to make. Wars, death, destruction - all of it is inevitable. But if I want to survive, if I want to build my destiny in this world, I have to learn to adapt.

Besides, I know myself too well. A peaceful life is not for me. I won't be able to sit still knowing that I'm missing out on the opportunity to become something greater.

- So where does that leave me? - I grin, running my hand along the arm of the chair.

Do something meaningful.

That's where the real trouble starts. Doing something meaningful sounds nice, doesn't it? But what does it mean in practice? How do you influence a world where thousands of civilizations, millions of ships, and billions of people are already fighting for their place under the sun?

- You're too weak for that, - I say to myself, grinning bitterly.

I have a ship, but what can I do with one ship? This world is not like the games or the movies. Here, power isn't just guns, but information, resources, allies. All the things I don't have yet.

But I can't just sit around and wait for someone to come after me.

I stand up and begin to pace the bridge, as if that might help dispel the chaos in my head. The stars on the map continue to twinkle, as if mocking me.

- Okay, - I mutter. - Think, Ellarion. If you want to survive, you need to get strong.

That word resounds inside of me like a chime. Strength. But not just physical. I need money, connections, an understanding of this world. And I know I can't just do that. I'm gonna have to make hard decisions, make deals with my conscience.

- "The question is what do you want to be," I tell myself.

A pawn? Someone who just watches others play? Or a figure who will start to move the others?

The answer comes by itself. Instantly.

My gaze falls on the map, narrowed down to the space facility where I am now. Tinos is a neutral space station in the Nallo star system. I see a hologram of it: a huge metal monolith hovering in a vacuum.

Mercenaries. There are bound to be mercenaries here.

I smile. Bitterly, with a tinge of regret, but I smile.

- Mercenary, - I say the word, tasting it.

I know what it means. Mercenaries work for money. They don't care about ideals, they only care about contracts. They do the dirty work so someone else can sleep easy.

But it's also a way to get resources, connections and knowledge. And I'm ready to start there.

- Okay, - I say out loud, walking toward the armory. - Let's start small.

 A new path is defined, and I intend to take it.