From Idler to Tech Tycoon: Earth

"Sometimes, paradise is just a mirage. And hell is your new home."

Location: Unknown star system, Unknown Distance

Travel Time: 90 days through Wormhole Corridor-3.

Primary Vessel: Arcship SERPENT.

Fleet Escort: Lost.

Colonists: ~10 million souls.

The third arcship didn't find paradise.

While ADAM and EVE had reached new worlds full of life, Arcship Serpent came out of the wormhole alone and broken. It had passed through a nebula storm mid-transit. The tunnel twisted, broke apart, and spat them out somewhere else—somewhere wrong.

All of their escort ships? Gone. Just… vanished. Thirteen battleships, 3 Carriers and six heavy cruisers. Poof. The wormhole sealed shut behind them like it never existed.

Inside the damaged bridge, sparks flickered from ceiling panels. Smoke curled from burnt wiring. The air smelled of ozone and fear. Some of the crew were still bleeding from earlier impacts, medics moving fast to patch them up. The floor rattled every now and then, a deep groan from the ship's stressed frame.

Captain Dean Volkov stood at the center of the bridge. His knuckles were white, gripping the edge of his console. His face was grim, etched with worry for the ten million souls sleeping in cryo-bays below.

"Status," he barked. His voice cut through the chaos.

"Escort fleet is gone, sir. We're the only ones left," said Helena Shaw, the comms officer. Her voice was tight, strained. She kept checking her console, hoping for a miracle.

Volkov swore under his breath. A low, harsh sound. "What about Earth? Can we signal them?"

"No, sir," Helena replied, shaking her head. "We're too far. Quantum entanglement relays cap at ten thousand light-years. We're well past that. Completely out of range." The words hung heavy in the air. Isolation.

"Navigation?" Volkov turned to the nav officer.

Ensign Park, a young woman, looked pale. Her hands trembled slightly over her controls. "Constellations are… off. Everything's unfamiliar. We can't get a fix. We're not where we're supposed to be."

"So let me get this straight," Volkov said, exhaling hard. He looked around the bridge, at the tired, scared faces of his crew. "We're alone. With ten million people. No escorts. Few weapons. And no way home. If an alien fleet shows up worse than the Krill, we're space dust."

No one said anything. The silence was deafening. The weight of his words pressed down on them all.

He wiped his face, a weary gesture, then leaned over the console. "What's the nearest planet?"

One of the junior analysts, a nervous young man, spoke up. His voice was unsure. "Closest one has three rocky worlds—barren. Asteroid field surrounds most of it. But… sir, there's a fourth planet."

Volkov raised a brow. A flicker of something, maybe hope, maybe just curiosity. "Go on."

"It's habitable. Atmosphere reads as safe. Liquid water confirmed. Gravity 0.9 Earth standard. But… there's something strange. The surface is covered in ruins. Massive ones. Whole cities. Factories. Maybe more. It's like… a dead civilization."

"Life signs?" Volkov asked, his voice low.

"None, sir," the crew member confirmed. "No active bio-signatures. Nothing moving. Just… structures."

Volkov was silent for a moment. He processed the information. A dead world. Ruins. No life. It wasn't the paradise ADAM and EVE had found. But it was something. He nodded slowly.

"Take us in," he said. "Move slow. Our shields are weak. One wrong hit from an asteroid and we're risking ten million lives. Every scrape matters." He looked out at the dark expanse, the unknown stars.

"I just hope we don't die out here. If this place is hell, let's walk through it together."

The Serpent moved carefully through the debris field. The asteroid belt was massive. Chunks of metal, ice, and unknown materials drifted in every direction. Some of it looked artificial. Twisted girders, broken hulls, strange alloys. Remnants of something.

"Keep us steady," Volkov said, his voice calm, but firm. "No fancy flying. Just don't die."

Helmsman Dario Al-Abad nodded quickly, hands sweating on the controls. His eyes were glued to the forward sensors, dodging debris. "Aye, Captain."

The ship slowly pushed through. Every scrape against the hull made people flinch, a jarring sound that echoed through the ship. Alarms occasionally chirped, warning of near misses. The engineers in the lower decks reported minor hull breaches, quickly sealed. It was a tense, agonizing crawl.

After what felt like hours, they finally reached orbit of the fourth planet.

From the windows, it didn't look like a home. Not like the lush green of Earth, or the vibrant purple of Nyx-4. It was dark, brownish-grey. There were faint lights in some of the ruins—either power still running or sunlight catching on strange, reflective surfaces. It was huge. And it had rings, not of ice, but of shattered rock. A constant, silent threat. It hinted that at any day a meteor could land above their heads.

Volkov stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the planet below.

"Status on scans?" he asked.

"No harmful particles, no radiation spikes," said Helena. "Air's breathable. Pathogen risk minimal. No active energy signatures from the structures, either."

Volkov stared at the planet. "No paradise, but maybe something useful." He thought of the alien artifacts, the chance to reverse-engineer new tech, new defenses.

He turned to the crew, his voice gaining a new strength. "We descend. Our people deserve to see what we've landed on. They've been through hell in that wormhole. Let's give them something to hold on to." He looked at the colony feed, already showing images of massive alien towers buried in dust. A few spires pierced the clouds, impossibly tall.

"If there are remnants here," he said, his voice low, "let's hope they're just dead cities. Not dead armies."

One of the officers muttered, "Just don't want another Columbus moment, sir."

Volkov nodded grimly. "Exactly. Let's not start a war we didn't ask for. Not when we're already this broken."

The Serpent began its slow, careful descent. A new chapter. A new hell. Or perhaps, a new beginning, forged in the shadow of a forgotten civilization.

While the colonists drifted above alien ruins, Earth was changing fast.

The orbital ring project was already 50% complete. It wrapped like a bright silver halo halfway around Earth, stretching over the equator. A massive, gleaming structure visible from the ground. Millions of civilians were technically "hired" to help, even if it was just logistics, coordination, or virtual support from their homes. They felt part of something big.

Most of the actual construction work came from Richard's TRC—Terran Retribution Command. Drones, androids, and massive construction frames worked day and night. They welded, assembled, and lifted sections into place with tireless efficiency.

People didn't mind the automation. Even if it was machines doing the heavy lifting, it felt like you were helping build a wall around your home. A shield against whatever came next. A promise of safety.

On Mars, the mood was different. There were no sunsets, no flowers, no singing whales in space. Just cold red dirt, metal factories churning out weapons, and endless weapon testing. The air was thin, the sky a perpetual dusty orange.

Inside the Mars Defense Command, generals and strategists met inside a secure war chamber. The room was stark, functional. Red lights blinked along the walls, indicating threat levels. A live projection of the solar system hovered in the center, a detailed holographic map.

Marshall Feliciano Dela Cruz, leader of the Terran Retribution Command, stood next to the lead UEDCC analysts. His face was stern, his eyes sharp.

"Talk to me," he said. His voice was gravelly, used to giving orders.

"We've picked up something, sir," said one of the radar techs, a young woman with dark circles under her eyes. She pointed at a faint, rapidly moving blip on the solar system map. "Not a fleet. Not Krill. Not mechanical."

"What then?" Dela Cruz demanded.

"It's… organic. But it moves faster than anything we've ever seen. A hundred times faster than light. It's not using warp gates. It's just moving. Like it's… phasing through space."

Dela Cruz squinted at the readings. His mind raced, trying to fit this new data into known physics. "Biological, but faster than light?"

"Yes, sir. We don't know how. It breaks everything we know about propulsion. About reality."

"Where's it going?"

The tech's finger traced a line on the projection. "Straight for Earth. Estimated arrival… seventy-two hours."

On Earth, the news hadn't hit public channels yet. Only the inner defense networks knew. The top brass, the scientists, Richard's inner circle. They kept it quiet. No panic. Not yet.

The three arcships were already gone. ADAM, EVE, and now Serpent. They couldn't be called back. They were humanity's future, scattered across the galaxy, unaware of the new threat.

Earth's people had one megastructure half-built, the orbital ring, a symbol of hope. Mars had defenses: orbital guns, rail platforms—but they were untested against something like this.

The Krill were gone. Humanity had kicked out their masters, won a brutal war. They thought they were safe.

But now something new was coming. Something ancient. Something that could fly through space faster than the speed of thought. It defied all logic. It was a new, unknown enemy.

This wasn't just about survival anymore. This was do or die. The fate of humanity hung by a thread, unaware of the silent, impossible threat hurtling towards them.