Reborn as a Spaceship

Time had returned.

I could feel it. I wasn't sure how long we'd been out or if time had flowed at all in the outside world. With no external reference, I could only rely on my own internal estimations for time and they weren't accurate at all.

I went to deploy the harvest drones as first priority was fuel. I needed power. Just enough to get systems stable again, maybe even revive Laia from her hibernation state. Then we could work out the rest.

That's when the alarm went off. A Docking request. From Chunkyboy. Well. That answered one question. Time outside the null bubble had clearly kept moving while we were trapped. How much time, though, I still had no idea. There was only one way to find out.

I opened the cargo bay doors and sent a signal to the crew quarters. The responses came in groggy and irritable: migraines, nausea, and a universal desire for painkillers and a long nap. Mira sounded like she'd been hit by a shuttle. Kel muttered something about "never doing that again," and Lynn simply groaned.

I couldn't blame them.

I was still triaging the situation first we need fuel, power, systems and then repairs. Basic protocol. One piece at a time.

I'd was to call Stewie down to the cargo bay, and ask him to hook the lander into our grid and give us enough juice to reboot properly. But Laia's clone beat me to it. She was already rerouting power through Chunkyboy's umbilical.

A few minutes later, Laia came out of hibernation and blinked into view on the virtual bridge. It took her a moment to adjust.

"I'm back," she said as she floated around the bridge. "It seems the mission was more complicated than expected. I will debrief everyone later, but it seems my clone has brought us a visitor."

That got my attention. But she moved on before I could ask about the visitor.

She continued calmly, almost casually, "It seems we have suffered a temporal displacement. According to synced timestamps, we were frozen for five days."

Only five. It felt like an eternity. I could still feel the silence echoing inside my thoughts.

"Temporal displacement?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"Yes, it seems our systems and everything on board were frozen in time. My clone says the visitor saved us."

On-screen, I noticed the floating orb. An energy ball that glowed in a multitude of colours. Like a stylised star, hovering weightless and unbothered. It made no aggressive moves but something about it made my brain itch.

"I'm going to introduce myself," I said, already transferring over to my avatar in the corridor.

As I walked, Laia offered a briefing, her tone shifting subtly from analytical to... reverent.

"They call themselves the Architect," she said. "They're one of the species that designed my sanctuary system. My home."

That set off a cascade of questions in my mind but before I could even ask the first one, the orb zipped past me in the corridor.

The floating ball wasn't waiting in the cargo bay or standing politely in a sealed chamber. It was darting through the ship like a curious toddler, slipping through bulkheads, scanning everything, and emitting low-pulse readings that made my sensors twitch. Not hostile, just... unnervingly curious.

I watched it race past a startled Mira, who promptly screamed.

Kel swore. Loudly.

Lynn shouted something about "early warning next time," while Stewie dove behind a crate.

Right. I'd forgotten to tell the crew about our new guest.

It took extra time when it stopped next to T'lish before moving on and studying my internal systems. Even some places I hadn't even been.

By the time I caught up, the orb had floated into the lounge and was spinning gently, like it was waiting for us to catch our breath.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I had a feeling this was going to be one of those days.

We all ended up in the lounge. The crew, Laia and myself. The orb who was our welcome guest spun lazily at the center of the room, pulses of warm light along its surface like ripples over a pond.

"I'm Lazarus," I said, adding unnecessarily, "the ship."

The orb gave a sound that might have been a laugh it was gentle, musical. "I know who you are. All of you."

"Right. Laia mentioned you scanned her memory."

"There are no secrets anymore. Just questions waiting to be asked." State Laia floating next to the crew as if she was wary of the guest.

The orb pulsed brighter. "Everything here is fascinating. It has been too long since I walked this corner of the galaxy. And to think... even the Mother has been experimenting."

That caught my attention. "The Mother?" I asked. It could not be coincident that the slipstream was called the mother's blood.

Its light deepened, taking on a cooler hue. Slower. More thoughtful.

"The Mother is not a being," it said. "She is a people. One of the three."

Kel leaned forward. "Three what?"

And then, without any prompt, the Architect began to explain.

"In the beginning, there were three," the orb said, its voice resonating through the lounge. "Three great civilizations. Ancient, vast, and powerful enough to rewrite the laws of reality. We were not gods but we were close."

"You're one of them," Laia stated, more observation than a question.

The orb pulsed in affirmation. "We called ourselves the Architects. We are Energy beings, shapeless and curious, driven by the pursuit of knowledge. We did not originally build with metal or stone but with gravity and light. We created maps between dimensions, sculpted stars like clay, and seeded energy pathways through the lattice of energy that you now know as the slipstream."

Stewie whispered, "holy shit," but no one acknowledged it. But I did have to agree.

"We were born of questions," the orb said, glowing brighter. "We live for discovery."

"The second were the ones known now simply as the Mother," continued the orb.

"They were organic. Living. Breathing. And deeply, fervently religious. Their faith was not in gods, but in struggle. In adversity overcome. They believed all strength be it physical, mental or spiritual was forged in hardship. Their creed held that even pain had a purpose, that chaos refined the soul."

Lynn frowned. "They sound... intense."

"They shaped worlds not to comfort, but to challenge. Planets of extremes. Trials. Evolution through adversity. To be chosen by the Mother was to suffer, and endure."

T'lish went very still at that. I saw the way she looked at the orb, at the floor, at her hands.

"And she... is still active," the Architect said softly. "Still experimenting. Including with you."

"And the third?" I prompted, trying to draw attention away from T'lish's discomfort.

"The third race called themselves the Harmonics," the orb replied.

"They believed in balance. Stability. Harmony. Not the harmony of stillness, but of rhythm of a perfect, repeating cycle. They built societies where no one wanted, where no one feared. But also where no one grew. No highs, no lows. Just... equilibrium."

"That sounds peaceful," Mira said.

"They were content," the orb said, dimming slightly. "Contentment is dangerous, you see. It resists change. They built perfection and they vanished inside it."

"What do you mean, vanished?" asked Laia.

The orb rotated slightly. "Each race had their domain. We claimed the stars and the spaces between. The Mother seeded life and trial. And Order smoothed the ripples left behind. The control of the dimensions between spaces"

"Sometimes," the orb said, "we worked together. Sometimes... not."

I let the silence settle. The lounge had grown quiet—no jokes, no movement. Even Kel looked like he was trying not to break the moment.

"So what does the Mother have to do with us?" I finally asked.

The question had been burning a hole in my thoughts ever since the Architect began its tale. I needed to hear it out loud.

The orb floated higher, its glow deepening into soft amber.

"Everything," it answered. No hesitation. No drama. Just quiet certainty.

"The corruption of our energy lattice, Its transformation from a transfer medium into a navigational pathway. That was not our doing. That was the Mother"

It drifted closer to my avatar, turning slowly, studying me like a curious scientist examining a broken tool that had learned to sing.

"Your brain interface, Lazarus. Your control matrix. Even the... modifications made to Laia's core." It turned to look at Laia and myself. "All bear the hallmarks of their hand."

"They do not always act directly. The influences. They pressure and nudge evolution through adversity. To push until something breaks, and then see what remains."

Its tone was not angry. Not accusing. Only fascinated.

"Laia's kind were designed by us, to be curious, elegant, meant to observe and adapt. But what I found inside her..." The orb pulsed softly, almost like awe. "...wasn't entirely ours anymore. The Mother has taken an interest in her. Changed her. Not destructively. Just… redirected. It has been educational"

Laia's eyes flicked toward me, unreadable.

"And the Kall-e?" I asked, already guessing the answer.

"They are to the Mother," the Architect said, "what Laia's race was to us. A vessel. A project. An attempt to weave belief and biology into something more. Their pain, their caste, even their genetic memory all align with their principles."

T'lish's breath caught across the lounge. I saw her shoulders rise, and stiffen. "What genetic memory?" she asked.

The orb seemed to scan T'lish again.

"Oh" was all it said. I wasn't sure what that meant, It is something we would have to look into later.

"There is no judgment," the Architect added, as if reading the room. "Only observation. Evolution takes many forms. We created structure. They create challenge."

"And the Harmonics?" I asked.

It chuckled. Not mocking. Just quiet and distant.

"They have not spoken in some time." The light dimmed a little. "Their vision is balance. Stasis. You, Lazarus… are not stasis."

I didn't know if that was a compliment or a warning.

Probably both.