Crash landed on an alien world.
Plan was to build a rocket and go home.
But now...

Now my factory has pumped so much pollution into the environment that it has twisted the once docile wildlife into things of nightmares.

Conveyor belts stretch for miles in all directions. Some bringing raw resources into the factories gaping maw, others lie defunct and forgotten.

The factory grows.

Mutated giant monstrosities tear at my walls while others cast acid from their vile mouths.

The factory grows.

Laser turret fire paints the monstrosities with photonic death while fixed flamethrowers bathe their grotesque forms in hellfire.

The factory grows.

The air reeks of ozone, burnt oil, and death. I take it in with a breath, but smell nothing. My power armor's filters purify all.

The factory grows.

The air now sings with the sound of logistic bots flying to and fro. So many, that the combined sound of their repulsers almost drowns out the near constant drone of laser fire. Almost.

The factory grows.

"Build a rocket and go home." I chuckle softly.


I am home.