“System, where are my Star Wars series game mods?”
“Why are only the Online Combat and Modeling Optimization mods left under Advanced Game Mods?”
His name was Aldric Voss, a transmigrator who had crossed over into Stellaris, a world where interstellar war had already reached its boiling point.
Like many transmigrators, he came with a system.
Specifically, a mod system capable of loading all kinds of game modules.
Online Combat: Allows players from Earth his original Homeworld before transmagiration to join his fleet and fight for him as though playing a game.
Modeling Optimization: Passively applies filters, advanced beautification effects, and various enhancements to his inner and outer appeal, helping him gain ‘NPC’ favor faster.
But both of these were support mods.
“Warning: disconnected from combat sequence and fleet command system.
Star Wars series mods are temporarily unavailable.”
“Disconnected?
You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Not long ago, he had been going head-to-head with the Contingency fleet, one of the three great end-game crises in Stellaris.
With the system’s various overpowered mods behind him, he had been leading his fleet and pounding the Contingency into the ground when they pulled a dirty trick and sent him tumbling into a dimensional rift.
Unless the rift had thrown him outside the Terran Imperium’s territory, there was no way he could have been cut off from the fleet’s command system.
“Damn Contingency constructs.
Where the hell did they dump me?”
“Is this still within the Human Federation’s territory?”
“Command AI, is Septimus online?”
“Online, Commander.
Septimus at your service.”
“Run a full sweep.”
[Current scan results: One ecological command ship, integrity at 30%.
Propulsion offline.
One secondary cannon functional.
Life support systems functional…
One army transport ship signal node, integrity at 15%.
Contains operational clone ground forces.
Current energy reserves: 30 standard units.
Capable of sustaining minimum survival conditions for 30 days.]
[External environment: Planetary oxygen content 15%.
Hydrogen sulfide concentration 70ppm.
Radiation levels…
Overall habitability rating: 20%.
Conditions permit surface exploration.]
“Habitability 20?
This bad?”
At that level, survival would be near impossible without periodic medical maintenance.
The damage to the command ship was expected.
Getting rattled around inside a dimensional rift and still coming out alive was a testament to how absurd the system could be.
Once he made it back to the Federation, losses like these would barely register.
“So all I have left are clone soldiers?
Don’t tell me I’m about to go wilderness survival with a bunch of players.”
“Septimus, activate the spatial anchor and open a line to the Federation.”
“Beep.
Insufficient available energy.
Distance too great.
Estimated requirement: 100,000 standard energy units.”
“How much?”
One hundred thousand.
How could it need that much?
Did the rift dump him into another galaxy entirely?
The spatial anchor could transmit a signal to the Federation from virtually anywhere, even another universe.
The farther the distance, the greater the energy cost.
Energy.
He needed a massive amount of it if he ever wanted to go home.
“Hold on.
Does this planet have any civilization on it?”
Even something as basic as boiling water to generate electricity would make everything a whole lot simpler.
Aldric turned his gaze to the holographic display.
Outside, jagged rocks jutted across the landscape, and a few strange plants clung to life among them, though their presence was sparse.
Given the harsh conditions, the local biosphere probably didn’t have enough organisms to feed a bio-power plant.
Through the observation window, he could make out the ruins of a structure, something built into the mountainside.
Aldric quietly exhaled.
“Looks like my luck’s holding.”
“Near-modern architectural style.
Reinforced concrete construction.
Should have at least a basic electrical grid.”
“With a power supply, activating the spatial anchor is only a matter of time.”
A hundred thousand energy units was no small number.
If he tried to collect it alone, it would take until who knows when.
He needed help.
“Looks like I really am going wilderness survival with the players after all.”
Conveniently, a troop transport had crashed nearby, still carrying clone army combat units.
Clone loyalty was guaranteed.
Clone intellect, on the other hand, left a lot to be desired.
“I need some hungry helpers.”
Aldric set his eyes on the Online Combat module in the mod system.
While it was a support mod with no direct combat bonus, its capabilities were formidable.
It let him play cooperatively with Earth players, inviting them into the Stellaris world.
It was also one of the mods with the highest potential.
Through the Online Combat module, he had once released a real-time strategy game to Earth.
Stellaris: Interstellar War.
It looked like a game on the surface.
In reality, it was multiplayer conscription, pulling Earth players into the Stellaris world to fight an actual interstellar war alongside him.
The servers were probably down by now, since things had gone sideways on his end.
Without a fleet, there was no point running a strategy game.
“System, push a new DLC storyline to Earth and open a new closed beta application portal.”
After sending the connection invite to Earth, Aldric headed to the armory and geared up.
He kept it simple: a rifle and a sidearm, both kinetic weapons.
He passed on the energy guns.
The Federation’s technology was towering, figuratively and literally.
They had pushed energy weapons to the absolute peak of development.
Energy weapons were the dominant arms of interstellar warfare, but kinetic weapons had never been phased out.
Portable, durable, packing decent firepower, reliable performance, adaptable to ninety-nine percent of all combat environments.
They had always held a firm place in the Federation’s military arsenal.
But right now, cut off from the main fleet and without a power core, using energy weapons would only accelerate his energy drain.
Aldric rolled his wrist, and his knuckles cracked.
“I’ve been living a life of ease for too long.
Since becoming a commander, how long has it been since I went out to explore?”
If he was being brutally honest, his version of unwinding had been sitting in the command room running simulations.
Being a Federation Commander was, at its core, more like being a video game player.
“Commander, I advise against surface exploration.”
“In the event of an emergency, the Federation cannot afford to lose a talented fleet commander.”
Septimus’ voice chimed in, faithfully carrying out its duties as a Federation AI.
Aldric finished adjusting his freshly donned combat suit, his second time ever wearing it.
A Commander-class combat suit from the Federation, designed to provide staged life-support intervention, provided the planet met a minimum habitability threshold.
“Wearing the general’s uniform and I’m a Commander.
Take it off and I’m a strike team leader.”
“And besides sitting around waiting to die isn’t my style.”
“Otherwise those heretic xenos would’ve shipped me off to a labor camp a long time ago.”
His boots hit the ground.
Aldric looked up at the sky, hazy and grey, with reddish sunlight painting the land beneath it.
Hot air pushed into his nostrils.
“Industrial exhaust?”
He could clearly detect the distinct smell of industrial emissions in the air, a faint scent of burning plastic.
“Large-scale industrial clusters nearby.
The harsh environment might be partly man-made.
Industrial development demands energy, which means my luck’s holding.
It won’t be long before I can reach the Federation.”
Aldric stretched his limbs.
Since joining the command system, he had barely seen real combat in over a year, hardly ever leaving his command station.
The rush of piloting a fleet freely across the stars was a pleasure that eclipsed almost anything else.
He made his way to the wreckage of the troop transport and pried open a compartment that hadn’t been catastrophically damaged.
As the lights flickered on, they illuminated a long row of stasis pods lining the interior.
“Prepare to awaken thirty clone soldiers.
Activate independent personalities for twenty of them.”
“System, link the remaining clone soldiers and prepare to load player profiles.”
He opened the application list to see how many people had submitted closed beta requests.
“This many?
It’s only been half an hour.”
His list showed over 60,000 beta applications.
If he didn’t already know he was the one running the forum, he might have thought a bot army had swept through.
The new DLC beta announcement had naturally sent shockwaves across Earth’s gaming forums.
“Holy crap, Stellaris: Star Wars just dropped new DLC!”