Aiden remained inside the ship long after the last diagnostic cycle ended.
The makeshift mech lay across the floor of an empty compartment, its components arranged with deliberate care as the incomplete frame slowly took on a recognizable form.
It was not meant to function as a fully independent machine, at least not yet, because its true purpose was to serve as an exoskeleton that reinforced Aiden's body rather than replacing it.
Every design choice reflected that priority, as strength, structural stability, and long term survivability mattered far more to him than complexity or refinement at this stage.
The first problem was fastening.
He needed screws and nails strong enough to hold armor plates together, but light enough that the exoskeleton would not collapse under its own weight. Using salvaged ship parts would have been easier, but the internal structure alloys were far too dense.
The exoskeleton had strict load limits, and every unnecessary gram would shorten its operational window. Worse, most of the ship's hardened structural materials could not be melted or reshaped that easily with the tools he had. Even if he wanted to force it, the energy cost would be reckless.
The mutated deer antlers solved all of that.
They were lightweight yet remarkably strong, saturated with residual core energy that made them far more resilient than ordinary organic matter, and when processed correctly, the material could rival some of the ship's secondary alloys while weighing only a fraction as much.
Aiden mounted one antler onto a reinforced clamp and powered up his modified laser tool. The beam was wide and low intensity, tuned for controlled heating rather than cutting.
Slowly, the surface of the antler softened, not liquefying but becoming pliable, almost waxlike in its response. He worked patiently, section by section, pressing and extruding the material through improvised molds.
Each pass produced rough screws, short nails, and locking pins. None of them were perfect, but they were consistent enough to serve their purpose.
While the antler cooled in staged batches, Aiden turned his attention to the room itself.
This compartment had once housed part of a larger assembly system. The label on the bulkhead still read Environmental Exo Mech-Frame Assembly Unit.
Most of it was broken down beyond repair, but not all of it was useless. He dismantled the inactive arms and stripped out the laser cutting components and the smelting submodule.
The original system was designed for full frame assembly with AI oversight.
Instead, he rebuilt it into something simpler.
It was a simplified fabrication device designed to break down raw materials into usable pieces rather than assemble finished parts, which meant its job was to cut, trim, and shape materials into consistent sizes that Aiden could manually fit together later.
Unlike the original system, it required far less power, relied on direct manual control instead of complex automation, and produced only basic components, but that limitation made it reliable enough to use with the ship's damaged systems and his limited resources.
He cleared the compartment completely and sealed it off from the rest of the ship. Once the air scrubbers stabilized, he renamed the room in the ship's internal registry.
[Materials Workshop]
With that finished, Aiden returned to the antler stock. One antler was enough. By the time he was done, he had produced dozens of lightweight fasteners. Each one was tested for tensile strength before being set aside.
He moved to the terminal mounted along the wall and brought up the design interface, where the outline of the exoskeleton's armor plating slowly formed across the screen as he worked.
The design was functional rather than elegant, lacking advanced systems such as energy shields or active defense layers, because he did not yet have the necessary materials or power infrastructure to support anything more complex.
What it did have was mass and structure.
The plating was formed from the outer wall panels of an unused interior room of the research vessel. Even stripped of reinforcement layers, the material was still rated to endure the stresses of near light speed travel.
Impacts, torsion, and vibration were all within its tolerance. The weight was an issue, but manageable. Seven fragmented monster cores allocated to the exoskeleton would provide enough energy to compensate.
He reinforced the frame geometry, designing it to distribute force across multiple load paths. If one plate took a hit, the stress would not concentrate in a single joint.
The onboard combat assist routines were tied into this logic. When sudden force was detected, the system would automatically adjust posture, redistribute load, and stabilize balance.
The AI side was the easy part.
The ship's database contained vast amounts of mech combat data. Training logs, simulations, field analysis. Creating a combat assist layer from that information was straightforward. It was not a true autonomous system, but it did not need to be. It only had to react faster than a human could.
The harder decision involved the cameras.
Aiden stood still for several seconds, staring at the schematic of the ship's sensor layout. He had ten cameras total overall. Four monitored the external perimeter around the ship at all times. One covered the control room. One watched the entrance. Two handled warehouse coverage. Two monitored the hallways.
"I cannot spare the perimeter cameras, the entrance camera is non negotiable, and the control room camera has to stay." he muttered quietly to himself.
That left the hallway cameras.
"Hmmm... can't be helped."
With a quiet sigh, he shut them down.
He disassembled both units carefully, salvaging the lenses, motion processors, and transmission modules. One camera was integrated into the exoskeleton as part of the combat assist system, giving it enhanced situational awareness.
The second was configured for continuous recording and data relay, linked directly to the ship's database.
Anything new he encountered could now be recorded, analyzed, and stored in the ship's database, allowing him to access and review that information in real time as long as he remained within a three mile radius of the ship, while operating beyond that range would require signal relays, which was a problem he deliberately set aside for later.
With the designs finalized, Aiden began the exoskeleton suit assembly.
The exoskeleton took shape piece by piece. Frame first. Then plates. Each section was secured using the antler fasteners before being reinforced with clean, controlled welds. He worked slowly, correcting alignment issues as they appeared.
Some joints could not handle the combined load of armor and expected carry weight. When that happened, he scavenged additional non critical ship materials and reinforced the joints and motor housings until the stress readings stabilized.
By the time he finished, the difference was undeniable.
The exoskeleton could now safely lift six hundred pounds over extended periods. Burst output peaked at nine hundred pounds. Short durations only. Sustained use at that level caused rapid heat buildup and extreme power draw.
Repeated bursts would force an automatic shutdown to prevent damage, and there was still a risk of component failure if pushed too hard.
"It's not perfect, but it should be enough for now.." Aiden muttered as he wiped the sweat from his face.
Aiden stood there for a moment, quietly admiring the suit as he realized that it was no longer just an exoskeleton, but a semi mech that could finally be worn and relied upon.
Before shutting everything down, Aiden turned his attention to his environmental spacesuit and carefully repaired worn seals, reinforced stress points, and rerouted internal lines to support additional systems.
He increased the suit's oxygen capacity, replaced the aging filtration units with higher efficiency filters, and integrated night vision and motion detection directly into the helmet interface so the data could be processed without delay.
By the time he finished, the suit was no longer just emergency equipment, but a ready extension of his survival gear that could be used immediately without further preparation if the situation demanded it.
Only then did he stop.
His hands trembled slightly as he powered down the bay. He had been awake for three days straight. His body was well past its limits.
Aiden made it to his quarters and collapsed onto the bed.
He slept like a log.
******
The next morning, Aiden woke with his body feeling lighter than it had in days, his fatigue finally burned away by uninterrupted sleep. Sunlight filtered faintly through the trees outside the ship, and for the first time in a while, he felt confident enough to do something he had been avoiding.
He stepped outside and prepared a proper fire, carefully arranging fuel and controlling the flame so it stayed steady and manageable.
As the fire settled into a steady, controlled burn, Aiden turned his focus to preparing the meal and began carefully defrosting the slab of alien deer meat by placing it on a flat stone near the fire, positioning it close enough for the heat to draw out the cold without cooking the surface.
He watched as the dark, firm flesh slowly softened, moisture forming along the edges as the frozen stiffness eased under the warmth. Nearby, he took two of the strange apples and crushed them by hand, applying slow, deliberate pressure until their skin split and the pale flesh collapsed, releasing a sharp, acidic juice that pooled between his fingers and soaked into the crushed pulp.
Once the apples were reduced to a rough mash, he set them aside and picked up a third apple, carefully slicing it into small, even square pieces, ensuring that each cut was consistent so the pieces would cook at the same rate.
Beside his cutting area, a pot was already heating over the fire, and he poured in water while monitoring the flame until it reached a gentle boil rather than a rolling one.
He stirred in the first portion of nutrient paste, watching closely as the liquid thickened, adjusting the heat to prevent it from sticking as the mixture slowly transformed into a smooth, heavy base.
When the consistency felt right, he added a second portion of nutrient paste to deepen the texture, followed by the crushed apple mixture and the sliced apple pieces, stirring steadily to prevent the ingredients from clumping as the flavors slowly blended together.
He then sprinkled in a small pinch of salt and added a careful amount of the remaining spices from the ship's kitchen, knowing the supply was limited but deciding to splurge anyway, because today felt like a small celebration of everything he had managed to build, repair, and survive over the past few days.
Finally, he cut thin strips from the salted and dried deer meat and lowered them into the simmering mixture one by one, stirring slowly and deliberately as the contents thickened further into a dense, steaming mass that closely resembled a rough but hearty risotto.
When it was done, Aiden stepped back and stared at the pot before suddenly laughing, the sound sharp and loud in the quiet clearing.
"Hahahahaha! This is really something else.. HAHAHA" The laughter kept coming until his chest hurt and moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes, because the absurdity of it all finally hit him.
He had crossed space, survived a crash, built machines from scrap, and somehow ended up cooking alien risotto in the wilderness. He had never considered himself anything close to a chef, yet the result looked surprisingly edible.
He tasted a spoonful, and his reaction was immediate. His eyes widened as the flavors hit, the acidity of the apple cutting through the heaviness of the paste while the salted deer meat grounded everything with a deep, savory bite.
For a brief moment, he genuinely wondered why he had chosen the path of a Mech Engineer instead of learning how to cook professionally, because the dish was far better than it had any right to be.
He set the pot aside carefully, then turned to the remaining slab of thawed meat. The fire was ready now, its heat even and strong. He placed the meat over the flame and rotated it slowly, listening to the faint hiss as fat rendered and dripped into the embers.
He adjusted the height repeatedly, keeping the surface from burning while letting the inside cook through. The scent filled the air as the meat browned, the outer layer crisping while remaining tender beneath.
Once the cooking was finished, he gathered the food and carried everything back inside the ship, choosing comfort over scenery because there was no proper place to sit or eat outside.
Although the view beyond the hull was beautiful in its own unfamiliar way, he had no interest in eating off the ground or balancing a meal on uneven terrain, and he wanted to enjoy the food properly while seated in relative comfort instead.
One plate held the grilled deer meat, its surface dark and glistening, while a bowl beside it contained the thick apple risotto mixture.
He took a bite of the meat, then followed it with a spoonful of the risotto, and let out an audible sound of satisfaction.
"Mmmmm! This is seriously delicious! I am going all out with this kind of cooking."
He ate until the pot was empty and leaned back with a full stomach, releasing a satisfied burp as he realized it was easily the best meal he had eaten since arriving on this planet.
******
After resting for an hour, he made his way to the Material Processing Bay, the quiet hum of the ship following him as he entered the room he had converted specifically for cutting, shaping, and preparing raw materials.
Waiting on the central work surface was the remaining antler he had set aside earlier, and he paused briefly to inspect it before deciding that today was the right moment to turn it into a weapon rather than leave it as unused material.
He secured the antler in place using reinforced clamps and activated his modified laser tool, carefully tuning the output to produce controlled heat rather than a cutting beam. Working slowly, he passed the heat along the length of the antler, softening the material in sections until it became pliable without losing its internal strength.
Each softened section was then pressed and shaped using simple molds, gradually forming a long, narrow blade profile that emphasized a reinforced spine while keeping the overall width slim and focused on thrusting rather than wide slashing motions.
Once the basic shape was established, he adjusted the laser to a lower intensity and began refining the edge, scoring shallow, irregular micro teeth along one side of the blade. These jagged contours were kept deliberately small, enough to help the blade bite and tear once it penetrated flesh, but not so deep that they would compromise the structural integrity of the antler.
The tip received the most attention, as he repeatedly heated, pressed, and cooled it in short cycles to compress the material and strengthen the point, reducing the risk of cracking during impact.
When the blade was finished, he turned to the handle. Days earlier, he had already cut down a small tree and set aside a section of its dense core wood, and he now trimmed it further until it fit comfortably in his hand even while wearing the semi mech exoskeleton.
He shaped the grip to align naturally with his wrist, wrapped it in layered grip material to prevent slipping, and then carefully fitted the blade into the handle. The two pieces were secured using antler pins, after which he reinforced the joint with precise, controlled welding to ensure the dagger could withstand repeated use without loosening or failing.
The dagger was not elegant or refined, but it was brutally practical, designed with a clear purpose rather than appearance in mind. Well, he wasn't that good with designs in particular anyways, but the purpose of the dagger was met.
After finishing it, he uploaded close combat dagger data into the exoskeleton's assist system so that, if he were ever forced into close range fighting, the suit could help guide his movements, refine his strikes, and improve his reaction timing.
He knew the weapon had clear limitations and would require careful use and maintenance, but in his current situation, it was more than enough.
Before leaving the bay, Aiden turned his attention to one final piece of equipment, knowing that offense alone would never be enough if he wanted to survive. He spent several minutes reviewing the constraints of his semi mech exoskeleton, calculating how much additional weight it could bear without compromising balance or draining power too quickly, and only then did he begin designing the shield around those limits.
He salvaged large sections of metal plating from the outer walls of an unused ship compartment, selecting pieces that were thick enough to absorb heavy impacts but not so dense that they would overwhelm the exoskeleton's support systems.
Using the modified laser tool, he cut the plates down into a tall rectangular shape that could cover most of his body from shoulder to knee when held upright, carefully aligning each cut to preserve structural integrity.
The edges were reinforced and smoothed to prevent stress fractures, while the interior was layered and bonded in a way that favored durability and impact dispersion over flexibility, ensuring that the shield would hold together even under repeated blows.
For the internal structure, he returned to the tree he had cut down earlier, shaping the dense wood into a rigid frame that could serve as both grip and bracing.
He carved the handle to match the range of motion allowed by the exoskeleton's arm joints, then added additional support points so the force of any strike would be distributed across the frame rather than concentrated in his hands or wrists.
Each attachment point was tested, adjusted, and reinforced until the shield felt like a natural extension of the suit rather than a separate burden.
When the assembly was complete, he lifted the shield and felt its weight settle into the exoskeleton's support systems, the mass registering at roughly one hundred and fifty pounds.
On its own, it would have been completely impractical, but with the exoskeleton compensating, the weight became manageable, though still demanding. He tested its balance repeatedly, raising it, angling it, and bracing against imagined impacts while adjusting the grip until the shield remained stable without pulling him off center.
By the time he was satisfied, the ship's internal lights had dimmed to their evening cycle, and the day had nearly slipped away.
After eating a small portion of salted, dried deer meat, he cleaned every tool he had used, powered down the Material Processing Bay, and returned to his quarters with slow, heavy steps.
His body was exhausted again, but the fatigue carried a sense of accomplishment rather than strain, and with his preparations finally complete and his mind at ease, Aiden lay down and fell asleep, ready to face whatever tomorrow would bring.