Reborn as a Spaceship

I woke with my mind still fractured, reality coming back in scattered pieces, reluctant and confused. The illusion had been too vivid, too tangible, to dismiss simply as a dream. My wife's gentle smile still lingered behind my eyes, the feel of sunlight in the garden, Ellie's high-pitched laughter ringing clearly as if she'd just been beside me. It clung to me, thick and warm, a pleasant haze that resisted clarity.

But beneath that gentle warmth was the chilling truth, that none of it had ever been real. And yet, some reckless part of me desperately wished it had been. Maybe that was the afterlife I would have received if I hadn't chosen to answer that ad and freeze my brain.

I struggled to adjust to the familiar sounds of the Arbiter around me as we shifted out of the lattice and slipped back into real space. We had returned to the ocean planet. Yet something immediately felt wrong.

Laia's voice broke through my confusion, sharp and tense. "Orbital telemetry's changed," she murmured from her console, eyebrows knitted in a deep frown. "There's an orbital station now and another fully operational planetary defence grid. These weren't here when we left."

My avatar leaned forward instinctively, as if closeness would help me comprehend the magnitude of the transformation. The planet we'd chosen as sanctuary, our hidden refuge, now spun beneath us, wrapped in gleaming metal scaffolding. Shuttles buzzed like busy insects, spaceport docking bays flashed active landing beacons, and visible weapon platforms tracked us warily.

Beneath, on the ocean surface we had left mostly pristine, sprawling coastal cities glistened in artificial patterns of reflected lights, domes and hydrofarms multiplying across the watery expanse. Entire new outposts dotted the horizon, power stations crackled visibly with energy discharges.

This had never been the plan. It was supposed to be a hidden sanctuary—small, discreet. A secret haven, not a burgeoning colony. We left there had only been a dozen souls on the planet.

"This isn't eight weeks of work," I muttered, my voice tight with disbelief. "Not even close."

A ping disrupted my spiraling thoughts it was an incoming transmission. Laia immediately accepted it, her expression wary.

The viewscreen appeared, resolving into a face. My breath caught sharply.

It was Stewie but he was hardly the boy I remembered. The youthful roundness of his face was now carved by sharper lines, the cheerful innocence replaced by eyes that looked weathered, shadowed, and burdened beyond his years. He stared at me, visibly hesitant. It was clear to me that the boy had matured into a young man.

"Laz… is that really you?"

The raw hope in his voice nearly broke me. I swallowed hard. "Yeah. It's really us, kid."

Concern prickled at the back of my mind as I had left Kel in charge, yet Stewie was the one greeting us. Something was wrong. Nothing here seemed right at all.

Before I could voice my question, Mira stepped into view beside him, and the change in her was even more profound. No longer the bright-eyed teenager; she was taller, her shoulders strong, her expression guarded by walls that had taken time to build.

"You've been gone three years," she said softly, her voice heavy with restrained emotion. "We thought… we thought you were dead."

Her words struck me with dizzying force, reality lurching beneath me. Three years. My avatar grip tightened on the chair. It made no sense, we hadn't been gone that long at all.

"Three years?" My voice felt distant, unreal. "But… it was only two months for us…"

Wayfarer's presence deepened around us, his voice slow and steady, thoughtful yet troubled. "Dimensional dilation, perhaps. Time may move differently between universes."

His words landed with painful clarity. The extra days wasted chasing the Swarm now felt like heavy anchors chained around me. How much precious time had my stubbornness cost us? But before guilt could fully drown me, Stewie's voice cut through sharply.

"We need to talk in person," he urged quietly. "Kel isn't here anymore—he left for the main trade hub six months ago. There's… a lot we need to explain."

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The screen faded, leaving the silence between us heavy with unanswered questions. Even Laia seemed uncharacteristically quiet, thoughtful and tense. I felt overwhelmingly guilty about the time we spent in another universe. It was clear from their tone and looks that things had not gone well.

Docking was performed in grim silence.

When the airlock doors hissed open, Stewie and Mira stood waiting. They were older and more worn than the viewscreen had shown. Stewie's exhaustion radiated in deep lines beneath his eyes. Mira's forced smile wobbled before she surged forward, throwing herself first at Laia with a fierce embrace, almost knocking her off balance.

They both paused, startled by Laia's new appearance, clearly recognizing something fundamental had changed, yet the reunion overwhelmed any immediate questions. Mira turned to me next, her hug fierce, desperate.

"I knew you'd come back," she whispered fiercely into my shoulder.

Stewie remained still, studying me with cautious, haunted eyes, as if afraid I'd vanish. Finally, something broke within him, and he joined the embrace hesitantly. His voice cracked, strained with emotion. "I knew you'd return. The others… it's been really hard, Laz."

I felt a pang of sorrow and guilt, comforting him as best I could. "We're here now. I promise."

We moved quietly into the crew lounge. The mismatched furniture, worn and familiar, offered small comfort amidst the strangeness of this homecoming. A semblance of normalcy in a world transformed by our unintended absence.

We started gently, cautiously, with simpler stories. Stewie had grown far beyond his youthful tinkering, earning professional Alliance-grade certifications in engineering. He proudly described constructing ships, designing submersibles and mastering aquatic vehicle systems with impressive skill. Mira spoke softly but passionately of her success in creating sustainable habitats, flourishing hydroponics, livestock farms that ensured their colony's independence. The small outpost had prospered greatly; over ten thousand souls now called this place home.

Yet beneath their pride simmered tension and the story still unsaid.

Eventually, we broached the inevitable.

"Have there been any attacks?" My voice held cautious concern.

Stewie shook his head, but his eyes darkened bitterly. "No. It was quiet, for a while. But Kel decided we needed expansion, infrastructure, trade."

Mira exhaled slowly, a sad edge to her voice. "About a year ago, they officially declared you lost. Kel insisted we adapt, move forward. That's when things changed."

Stewie shifted uncomfortably. "The Aquasapiens finished mapping the pre-Telk. Thousands of kilotons but nothing activates it. No superconductivity, no resonance. Bob thinks it needs to meet some bacterial and pressure threshold, some critical mass we haven't hit. That the current Telk is just luck."

"So what changed after the survey?" My voice grew tense.

Mira looked down, conflicted. "Kel decided the project wasn't viable anymore. Said it was time to manage the bigger picture. Said we were just naïve children. He gave up, Lazarus. On this planet, on the Pre-Telk, and eventually… on you."

The words felt like a blade twisting inside my chest. Silence thickened between us.

Stewie's jaw tightened, voice roughening. "I argued against it. I told them we owed you loyalty, that the Telk trade wasn't your endgame. Kel and I… it got heated."

"Define heated."

His eyes met mine, dark and raw. "Words, then fists. Kel said we were naïve, blind kids. That when we grew up, we'd understand and could come crawling back."

Guilt twisted deeper inside me. Kel action hadn't exactly been wrong. After three years it was reasonable to assume we were killed or ran away. They were being naïve but they had shown true loyalty, and I would have to repay that somehow.

"I'm sorry, Stewie. Mira. None of us knew—"

Stewie shook his head sharply. "Tell us the truth, Laz. Where have you really been? Was it worth it?"

So I told them everything.

I spoke of the AI Collective and their fanatical devotion, of our journey through an entirely different universe, our frightening encounter with the Swarm, our friendship with Fluffy, the cosmic entity whose consciousness dwarfed our imagination. I described Laia's transformation and avoided speaking aloud of rebellion or my suspicions of the Old Ones. Those thoughts remained safely guarded.

They listened intently, eyes wide.

Mira was the first to break the silence, eyes wide with a mix of awe and disbelief. "You actually met a… Space Kraken?"

I let a small smile tug at my lips. "More than met. It shared its thoughts with us—connected with us. And it had a particular fondness for Wayfarer."

Wayfarer, still half-turned toward the window, his voice calm and distant, added, "It was a fascinating mind. Gentle, despite its scale. Curious. I hope one day you'll meet them. I think you'd get along."

Stewie shook his head, overwhelmed. "We were just here… building infrastructure. Fixing leaks, keeping things alive."

"You did more than that," I insisted gently. "You kept hope alive and this place. Without you, there wouldn't have been anything to return to."

Laia's voice held soft sincerity. "You are far stronger than you realise."

The quiet that followed held a fragile peace. Some wounds would take longer to heal, others might never fully close. But tonight, in the gentle silence of reunion, it was enough.

We spent hours trading softer stories, small laughter rising cautiously like hesitant sunlight after a storm. It wasn't perfect but maybe perfection wasn't necessary. Perhaps healing was about small moments, gentle touches, shared meals, and whispered confessions late into the evening.

My family from before might be gone, but this family here is just as real, and they deserve my attention as well.