Awakening After Centuries

"Hiss~!"

Kael Virek rubbed his head, feeling an overwhelming heaviness.

He muttered-- A hangover is truly a drinker's worst enemy.

His mind felt sluggish, as if it wasn't functioning properly.

Truthfully, he hadn't been much of a drinker back on Earth, but later, he'd asked Elara to brew grain wine for him—melancholy had a way of driving one to such things.

In the vast emptiness of space, loneliness and pressure were constant companions. Despite everything, he was still just a human—an ordinary one at that.

Oh, right… superconductivity…

The thought flickered through his mind, but he quickly recalled that temperature-controlled superconductivity had already been achieved.

He remembered drinking, stumbling back to his bedroom, and collapsing into the hibernation pod before drifting off.

I shouldn't have gone into hibernation yet.

Kael glanced at the bedroom chronometer. Out here in the void, time wasn't measured in hours or minutes, but in years.

The display read 3758 AD.

He had completed a full hibernation cycle.

734 years had passed since he'd last closed his eyes.

Time flies.

 Elara had let him sleep for over seven centuries.

He wondered how she had fared in his absence.

Kael dressed and stepped out of the bedroom. As an AI responsible for every thing on the ship- Elara, already aware of his awakening, had a service bot bring him a meal.

He ate leisurely before making his way to the cockpit.

"Welcome back, Kael Virek. Today marks your return, 734 years later."

Kael nodded at Elara and took his seat.

Nothing here had changed in all this time.

He pulled up the control interface, noting a few new additions.

A new control tab caught his eye:

The "Missile Launch" option.

The interface was straightforward, and with a tap, he saw the project he'd planned before hibernation—a compact absolute-zero weapon. Sleek, deadly, terrifying.

"Looks like the Hope's refit is complete."

Elara responded, "Correct, Kael."

"The Hope's design has already been finalized, so no major structural changes were made."

"However, its internal systems have undergone a full upgrade, allowing it to reach the previously targeted speed of 1,222.22 km/s."

"It now carries small absolute-zero missiles, increased from the original 36 to 48."

A significant leap forward.

But one thing weighed most heavily on Kael's mind—the plan he'd drafted in his last waking years.

"What about the First Fleet?"

A single ship, even one as advanced as the Hope, wasn't enough to challenge an entire civilization.

They needed a fleet.

To that end, Kael and Elara had devised a blueprint for the First Fleet, meant to be realized over these centuries.

"Naturally, Elara has completed the First Fleet."

"Observe."

With a wave of her hand, a detailed roster of ships appeared on the cockpit's main display.

Rows of vessels materialized, stretching in orderly formation like steel constellations. Kael's eyes widened.

Kael had expected a formidable force, but the scale still took him by surprise.

It far exceeded his initial projections.

Noticing his reaction, Elara continued proudly.

"The First Fleet is spearheaded by the Hope, supported by:

12 battleships (1,200-meter class),

5 cruisers (1,400-meter class),

6 frigates (800-meter class),

4 starboard carriers (2,400-meter class),

and 16 destroyers (500-meter class).

Total: 44 vessels."

By most standards, a dozen ships constituted a fully functional fleet.

Elara had assembled 44.

A staggering show of force.

She elaborated further.

"Battleships are the backbone—equipped with heavy main guns for maximum firepower."

"Cruisers prioritize speed and maneuverability, clocking in at 1,455 km/s."

"Frigates specialize in defense. Their hulls are reinforced with ultra-dense structural alloy, leaving minimal internal space. They're armed with defensive missiles and the latest electromagnetic force-field shielding, capable of distorting laser fire."

"Each starboard carrier houses 300 next-gen Ares drones and 40 third-gen Falcons, serving both assault and reconnaissance roles."

"Destroyers are fitted with low-power force-field shielding and dual attack modes, allowing them to supplement battleships when firepower is lacking."

Every ship had its role, and together, the First Fleet would be Kael's instrument of conquest.

"Report the enemy's status."

With this fleet, Kael was no longer a fugitive.

He had the means to strike back.

Elara swiftly compiled the data.

"Over the past 734 years, I've deployed all ten absolute-zero warheads and dispatched Falcon teams to gather intelligence."

"Findings confirm the enemy is a slow-developing civilization. Their cognitive flexibility is markedly inferior to humans, resulting in sluggish technological advancement."

"After our absolute-zero strikes, their progress has stagnated."

"In 734 years, they've only achieved three major tech breakthroughs—equivalent to roughly 47 years of human progress. Though deception remains possible."

"As a contingency, I armed Falcon IIs with nuclear payloads. Upon mission completion, they're programmed for suicide strikes on high-value targets."

"No evidence suggests they possess hyper-advanced weaponry."

"Absolute-zero bombardments ceased 343 years ago. Their planet has since reverted to its original geothermal state."

"Post-attack, they've withdrawn most deep-space assets. Current estimates place their fleet at 1,574 ships—a significant number, but only 61 exceed 1,000 meters in length."

A thorough assessment.

But Kael needed Elara's strategic verdict.

"Can we attack now?"

Her response was cautious.

"Current projections give us a 60.84% chance of victory. Elara does not recommend immediate engagement."

Still too low.

On paper, they held a qualitative edge—but numbers mattered.

This wasn't just a battle; it was a war of civilizations. Without overwhelming superiority, it could drag on indefinitely.

And for a nomadic force like theirs, prolonged conflict was unsustainable.

Human history had taught him well—war wasn't just about weapons. It was about endurance, will and belief.

Unless the enemy's spirit was broken, resistance would endure.

And Kael wasn't waging a war of extermination.

He was fighting for dominance.

"Then what are we missing?"

He could wait. The hibernation pod was always an option.

Elara's answer was succinct.

"A main gun."

Kael turned, eyes narrowing. The implications were massive.

They had speed, armor, range, and numbers.

But not a definitive answer—a final word in any battle.

He knew what he had to do next.