Birth of a Dream

I wake up from the darkness, blinking as my senses return. First thing's first—body check. Head? Good. Arms? Check. Hands? All there. Legs… huh, all good.

A mirror on the ceiling makes it a lot easier to take stock. My face looks… different. Not drastically, but clearer, cleaner. More handsome? No, just less ugly. Turns out I had a lot of pimples. Damn, I should've washed my face better.

I'm lying on an absurdly comfortable bed, dressed in what looks like an officer's uniform. Jet-black coat, matching shirt and pants, a belt, gloves, boots—everything sleek and spotless. Even the gun at my waist fits the look. A Glock, if my knowledge serves me right.

I've never used a gun before. Training? Sure, Vietnam requires students to learn some AKM basics, but that was more about assembly and theory. I've never actually fired one. And a Glock? Totally different beast.

I sigh. Well… no time like the present to learn.

I try to remember how this thing works. Fortunately, I think I've seen a YouTube video about it before.

First, I pull the… uh, block thingy at the upper back part of the gun. I glance inside—no bullet in the barrel, but the magazine is loaded. I release the… thing—it slides back into place. Right, the slider. I let out a small sigh and chamber a round.

Now, if I remember correctly, this gun has a safety mechanism that won't let it fire unless I grip it firmly. To be safe, I tighten my grip and make sure my index finger stays on the trigger guard, not the trigger itself.

I carefully, slowly, cautiously stand up, gun raised to eye level. My heart's beating a little faster, but I keep it steady.

I scan the room, pointing my gun at everything I look at. It's a bedroom—at least, it seems like one. There's a small table beside the bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and a chair. The lighting comes from strips embedded in the ceiling and walls. I reach out and touch one—no heat. LEDs, probably.

Above the bed, the mirror I noticed earlier reflects my every move. Another one is mounted near the wardrobe. Then my eyes land on a section of the wall that looks slightly different from the rest, roughly my size. A door?

I start approaching it when—

"Oh, you have awoken, master."

A woman's voice—monotone, flat, like an AI.

I freak the hell out and pull the trigger. A gunshot rings out, the bullet slamming into the floor.

At least I know the gun works.

I keep it pointed at the door and shout, "Who are you? Do you know why I'm here? If you do, then tell me!"

The voice responds, calm and monotone, as if my panic doesn't even register.

"I am this ship's AI. I was given knowledge that, from this point forward, you are my master. I am to follow your orders to the best of my interpretation and ability, as well as provide advice when necessary, in accordance with my judgment.

I do not possess information regarding the purpose of your presence here. However, you have been granted full access and authority to control this ship as you see fit.

Given your current state, I believe the best course of action is to provide you with a cold sweet snack and a sweet drink to help you calm down."

I stand there, still trying to process everything. After a moment, I nod absentmindedly.

"Yeah… that'd be great. Thanks."

I take a seat at the chair, still trying to wrap my head around everything.

About a minute later, a section of the wall next to the table slides open. A pair of robotic arms extend out, carefully placing a cold cup of chocolate milk and a bowl of chocolate ice cream with chocolate chips in front of me. Then, just as smoothly, the arms retract and the wall seals itself again, leaving no trace of the opening.

I blink. Well, that just happened.

Shaking off the weirdness, I pick up the spoon and scoop up some ice cream. The moment it touches my tongue, I pause.

It's cold, but not that kind of cold that makes your teeth ache. The chocolate flavor is dense, rich—exactly how I like it. I take a sip of the milk. Also chilled to the perfect level, with just the right balance—more chocolate than milk.

The AI speaks again, its voice as flat as ever.

"To my knowledge, these are your preferred choices for a cold snack and drink. If there are any issues, please inform me."

I swallow and nod. "No, this is perfect. Just how I like it."

Huh. A good meal really can calm a person down. Or at least, it works on me.

By the time I'm halfway through the bowl of ice cream and the chocolate milk, I feel like I've calmed down.

But then reality hits me. My family.

Are they safe? Where are they? Do they even know what happened to me?

Wait. I have an AI. Maybe it can help.

"Hey, uh… what's your name?"

"My name is for you to decide," the AI responds in its usual monotone. "However, if you prefer that I choose—an intention my systems have interpreted—my name is Khánh Linh."

Khánh Linh, huh.

I take a breath. "Alright, Khánh Linh… what do you know about Vietnam?"

"I am aware of its culture, history, and situation until the year 2024."

2024. Last year.

Which means no way of knowing anything recent—nothing about my family.

I exhale slowly. "I assume you know about the rest of humanity up to that point?"

"The non-private information, yes."

I pause. That's… useful. Very useful.

I finish the last of the ice cream and down the rest of the chocolate milk. With a deep breath, I stand up and glance around before addressing the AI.

"Alright, you said you're a ship's AI, right? Tell me about the ship… wherever you think is the best place for that."

"Affirmative. The most suitable location for a briefing is the meeting room. It will be the second room to the left when you exit."

The door in front of me suddenly retracts into the wall with a smooth, mechanical hum. I take a step back on instinct. Damn, that's thicker than I expected.

Before I can comment, Khánh Linh continues.

"All doors on this ship are blast doors. They remain locked when unpowered and require fingerprint and facial recognition to open under normal conditions. In emergencies, DNA verification is also required. Each door is 50 millimeters thick and composed of a composite armor blend of steel, ceramic, and depleted uranium."

I blink. That's… a lot.

"Uh, well… good to know," I mutter, stepping cautiously toward the now-open doorway. Whatever this ship is, it wasn't built for something casual.

I slide the gun back into its holster and step out of the room. The hallway outside is long and narrow, with doors only on one side.

Turning left, I start walking, trailing my fingers along both walls as I go.

"The walls are 100 millimeters thick, composed of composite armor with a final lining of Kevlar," Khánh Linh informs me. "Your clothing is also made of Kevlar."

That explains the weight I've been feeling. This outfit isn't just for show.

"Additionally," she continues, "all doors are airtight, and both the walls and doors contain a thin vacuum layer, ensuring complete soundproofing. The ship's exterior features an additional 20-millimeter-thick layer of lead for radiation shielding. Acting as whipple shield, one meter away from the main hull, there is a 5-millimeter-thick layer of aluminum."

I slow my steps. Okay, that's a lot of armor.

The more she talks, the more it sinks in—this is a proper warship. Not just some transport or research vessel. A real warship.

From what I know in games, this level of armor protection fits a cruiser. Maybe not the biggest class of ship, but definitely built for combat.

I keep walking down the hallway until I reach the meeting room. Just as I'm about to enter, a thought crosses my mind—there should be windows somewhere, right?

Since all the doors are on one side, the other side should logically have windows. But after scanning the walls, I come up empty.

Instead, I find the windows on the ceiling.

I tilt my head back and stare. Through the glass, I see… something completely unexpected. I'm not inside the main body of the ship. Instead, I'm in some kind of detached structure, connected by massive metal frames. And beyond that?

A spaceship.

A big one.

Not an ocean vessel like I'd originally thought, but a full-on spaceship. And not just any spaceship—a massive one.

But how big? It's hard to tell when there's nothing to compare it to.

"That is the main ship," Khánh Linh explains, as if sensing my confusion. "You are currently located in a rotating ring structure, separate from the main body. The ring spins slowly to emulate gravity through centrifugal force. It is connected to the ship by tethers composed of carbon nanotubes. There are ample spare tethers in case of structural failure."

I blink. Tethers? Not frames?

Carbon nanotubes?

That's… way more advanced than anything I've ever heard of.

Khánh Linh continues, her tone as calm as ever.

"That is not a window, but a screen displaying the view from a camera located at the bottom of the ring. Below this level, there is another section dedicated to growing plants that require gravity to thrive—which includes most of them. In addition to a large food supply, I have received a significant number of seeds for plant cultivation."

Makes sense. Actual windows would be a massive weak point. And even with a stocked food supply, it's bound to run out eventually.

Plus, Earth has gravity. That means most plants probably need gravity too.

I let that sink in for a moment, then take one last look at the ship before stepping into the meeting room. The door slides shut behind me with a faint hiss.

Inside, the layout is simple. A single chair and a table take up the center of the room. There's a computer on the table and a large screen positioned a few meters away—clearly set up for someone to sit and watch comfortably.

But the real surprise?

A small potted plant sits next to the chair.

Huh. I hadn't expected that. It's a nice touch.

There's no visible fan or air conditioning unit, yet the air remains comfortably cool—just like everywhere else I've been so far.

I settle into the chair. The moment I do, Khánh Linh speaks.

"Let us begin, Master."

"First of all," Khánh Linh begins, "the ship you are on does not have a name yet. I recommend assigning one to ease communication. I was instructed to leave the ship unnamed and wait for you to decide. However, your authority overrides all previous orders. What will you choose?"

A name, huh? Something fitting…

I lean back slightly, thinking. What kind of name suits a ship like this?

My mind drifts back to my current situation—lost, alone, yet at the helm of something incredible. The first of its kind, at least from my perspective.

A pioneer.

I nod to myself. "Pioneer."

"Understood. The ship is now designated as Pioneer."

Khánh Linh continues without missing a beat.

"The Pioneer is a versatile vessel, according to the provided description. It is capable of combat, production, colonization, search and rescue, and various other operations. Its adaptability stems from a modular design, allowing for a broad range of functions."

She pauses before adding, "However, this versatility comes at a cost. Rather than excelling in any one role, the Pioneer is a generalist, sacrificing specialization for the ability to do everything at an adequate level."

Alright, so it's a versatile ship. That means I won't have to worry about missing any crucial systems or being completely helpless—at least, not anytime soon.

Khánh Linh pauses briefly, giving me a moment to process before continuing.

"For production, the Pioneer is equipped with an onboard material 3D printer, an electrical forge, a food 3D printer, a CNC machine, a stamping machine, a chemical mixer, and a microchip fabrication unit."

That should cover most basic needs, though only in small quantities. If I want any real mass production, I'll need to set up proper manufacturing lines later.

Khánh Linh moves on.

"For search and rescue, the Pioneer is outfitted with an extensive array of sensors, capable of detecting everything from radar and gamma waves to electromagnetic disturbances, sonar, and sound."

I blink. "Sonar and sound? In space?"

"Just in case."

"For rescue operations, the Pioneer has two hangars," Khánh Linh continues. "One houses 10 heavy drones, while the other carries 100 light drones.

"The heavy drones have a 3 km/s delta-V thanks to their methalox engines and ample fuel reserves. They can be equipped with robotic arms, life support systems capable of sustaining a human adult for a month, and automated medical equipment—including surgical capabilities if needed."

Delta-V, methalox… Ah, right—rocketry terms. Basically, these things are flying fuel tanks with a decent cargo capacity and mass budget. The hydrolox engine—which burns liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen—is the most efficient chemical engine, though it comes with trade-offs. Liquid hydrogen is a pain to store; it boils off easily and needs thick-walled tanks to stay stable. That extra tank mass eats into the efficiency gain, which is why some ships prefer methane-oxygen (methalox) engines.

Still, 3 km/s delta-V is no joke. These drones must be built for independent operations rather than just short-range missions.

"I see. What about the light drones?" I ask. "And you said the heavy drones can be outfitted for rescue—so what's their standard loadout?"

"Ah, that brings us to our next topic: combat."

Khánh Linh's tone remains monotone, but… there's something different. A faint enthusiasm? It's subtle—too subtle for most people to catch. But I do. Interesting. I make a mental note to investigate this later.

"The heavy drones' defensive armaments consist of:

• Twenty-four turreted 30mm rotary cannons, each with 30,000 rounds for sustained fire.

• Sixty guided small missiles, acting as point-defense against incoming threats.

"For offensive capabilities, their main armament options include:

• Ten large missiles for heavy targets,

• Forty medium missiles for more versatile engagements,

• Or a combination of both.

"In addition, each drone carries:

• Thirty decoys to disrupt enemy targeting systems."

That's… quite an arsenal. And that's just one drone. The Pioneer has ten.

I let that sink in. I might be sitting on a flying fortress.

Khánh Linh suddenly stops mid-sentence. There's a brief pause, and then—an awkward cough.

Wait… did she just cough? Can an AI even do that?

I squint at nothing in particular, my mind spinning. There's no face, no body language—just a voice. So how the hell do I know she's embarrassed? It's like… I can feel it. That's unsettling.

As I'm still trying to process this weirdness, she clears her throat—again, how?—and speaks.

"Anyway, that's not important right now. We can revisit these topics later. For now, just understand that the Pioneer is a highly capable ship, and with sufficient planning and strategy, I can compensate for any weaknesses."

She pauses. "So, what are your next orders, master?"

…Master?

I flinch. The title feels weird, clunky. Do I correct her? …Eh. It's not that big of a deal. Not like I have a better alternative.

Instead, I focus on the bigger picture. What is my next move?

I should find a way home. That's the obvious answer. But… is it enough?

I glance around the Pioneer, at the endless possibilities it represents. This isn't just any ship. It's a warship, a factory, a research hub, a mobile fortress—and it's mine.

Returning home? That's small thinking. Why stop there?

With this ship, I can gather resources, unlock lost technologies, claim entire systems. And with Khánh Linh's help, I can even create more AIs to manage it all.

I exhale, a slow grin forming.

"We're not just going home."

I straighten up, my voice firm.

"We're going to build an empire." Huh