Routine.
For the first time since Luna's miraculous and metaphysically ridiculous arrival into my life, I have one.
Wake up.Feed my daughter.Check that she hasn't accidentally turned her crib into a miniature universe while she slept.Kiss her forehead.And then begin the day as the one-woman engine that keeps the Foundation's progress decades—or centuries—ahead of the world.
Research, Reports, and a Reality-Bending Infant
My mornings blur between analyzing dimensional particles, signing authorizations for personnel transfers, and monitoring Luna as she levitates her stuffed toy (a plush star she transformed herself—accidentally—into something that has opinions).
Afternoons are split between:
Reviewing progress updates
Designing new technologies
And making sure Luna doesn't "fix" physics again
She sits in a floating chair beside me, bracelet glowing softly, limiting her influence to a manageable radius. When she giggles, random equations write themselves in the air. I almost consider letting her help with the math.
Almost.
Thrawn's Martian Frontier
Every evening, I receive Thrawn's encrypted holographic reports.
Mars is officially no longer just a red desert.
His efficiency is terrifying—in the best possible way.He has:
Constructed the first breathable-atmosphere dome
Established Outpost Aurek, the first human extraterrestrial colony
Begun terraforming subroutines with machine precision
Built defensive perimeter cannons in case "unknown galactic visitors" drop in unannounced
A genius governing a new world.
Exactly as intended.
Doctor Gears and the Machinery of Progress
Meanwhile, Doctor Gears—my most reliable workhorse—is turning Site-19's manufacturing wings into a small-scale empire of steel.
He sends me an update:
"Star Destroyer production stable. Shuttle fleet at 42% efficiency. Executor-class loadout blueprint 93% complete."
I can practically hear the monotone in his voice through the text.
But his biggest project?My personal flagship.
The Executor Reborn
I stare at the schematics he forwarded.The sheer scale is intoxicating.
The Executor.Nineteen kilometers of unstoppable dominance.Darth Vader's personal monstrosity of a ship.
Now it will be mine.
Gears has begun fabrication of the structural frame using:
Enhanced SCP-grade titanium
Anomalous self-repair alloys
Star Wars reactor blueprints
My improvements using zero-point vacuum extraction
In our world, the Executor won't burn in a star or crash from a rebel A-wing.Not under my command.
This vessel won't just dwarf planets—it will redefine the Foundation's place in the universe.
My flagship.
My crown jewel.
My throne among the stars.
The Rhythm of a Goddess-Scientist-Mother
And through it all—I return to Luna.
Holding her.Feeding her.Letting her nap on my chest while I calculate quantum distortion curves.
She reaches up, touches my cheek, and reality briefly ripples with soft moonlight.
It's gentle.Warm.Safe.
My daughter.My little moon.My legacy.
Everything is finally… balanced.
A terrifying balance, yes.
But mine.