[The Forge - Planetary Surface]
The Revenant touched down on a landing pad the size of a continent. The entire planet was made of gray, seamless metal. There were no trees, no rivers, no mountains. Just pipes, conveyor belts, and massive smokestacks that reached into the stratosphere.
Alex stepped off the ramp, his boots clanging on the floor. The air was thin and smelled of ozone and ancient oil. "It's quiet," Luna whispered, her hand on her sword. "Too quiet."
"It's not dead," Alex corrected her, feeling the vibration through his soles. "It's starving."
He walked toward the central tower—a spire that pierced the clouds. The doors, sensing his User 009 signature, slid open with a hiss of decompressed air.
[The Control Center]
The interior was a cathedral of industry. Screens covered every wall. Holographic blueprints floated in the air: Tanks, Mechs, Dreadnoughts, Dyson Spheres. In the center sat a single, modest chair. The Throne of User 006.
Alex sat down. The interface lit up.
[Welcome, User 009.] [System Integration: 100%.] [Planetary Status: Dormant.] [Fuel Level: 0%.] [Raw Material: 0%.]
"Dawn," Alex tapped the armrest. "Give me the inventory. What did the Forge Master leave us?"
"Scanning..." Dawn's voice echoed in the vast hall. "The vaults are empty, Sir. User 006 spent his last resource 30,000 years ago trying to build a 'Galaxy-Class' weapon. He failed."
Alex cursed. "So I bought a debt trap. A factory with no materials is just a paperweight."
[The Blueprint]
"Wait," Valerius pointed at a flashing red blueprint on the main screen. "Look at the production capabilities."
Alex expanded the window. [Production Queue]
Unit: Void-Cruiser (Class B). Print Time: 1 Hour.
Unit: Planetary Railgun. Print Time: 30 Minutes.
Unit: Titan-Mech (S-Rank). Print Time: 6 Hours.
"One hour?" Valerius gasped. "It takes the Federation shipyards six months to build a Cruiser. This planet... it's a 3D Printer for war."
"It prints money," Alex corrected him. "If we can feed it."
[The Feed]
Alex opened the comms channel. "Captain Skrap! Can you hear me?"
On the screen, the leader of the Rust Brotherhood appeared, looking nervous. "Loud and clear, Boss. Please don't fire the planetary cannon."
"I have a job for you," Alex said. "You see those asteroid rings? The ones made of iron and nickel?"
"Yes, Boss. That's our livelihood."
"I want you to throw them into the planet," Alex ordered. "Excuse me?"
"The Forge eats metal," Alex explained, watching the fuel gauge. "I want you to tow every asteroid, every wrecked ship, every scrap of metal in this nebula and drop it into the Planetary Maw at the north pole. We are restarting the furnace."
[The Ignition]
"Understood!" Skrap shouted. "Boys! You heard the Boss! It's feeding time!"
In orbit, the 350 ships of the Rust Brotherhood began to move. They latched their tractor beams onto massive asteroids and dragged them toward the planet's upper atmosphere. The first asteroid, the size of a city block, fell into the massive opening at the North Pole.
RUMBLE.
The planet shook. Deep beneath Alex's feet, massive gears began to turn. The hum turned into a roar. The smokestacks erupted with blue flame.
[System Alert] [Raw Material Detected.] [The Forge is Online.]
"Production Queue is active," Dawn reported. "What shall we print first, Sir?"
Alex looked at his debt clock. [Interest Due: 50,000,000 GC in 6 Days, 23 Hours.]
"We need to pay the bank," Alex grinned. "Print me a fleet. And paint it gold."