January 13, 2019. The Warehouse. 07:00 Local Time.
I woke up with a stiff neck. The army cot I had set up in the corner of the Command Container was not designed for long-term habitation. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the monitors. The external camera showed the street. The grey van was still there. Engine off. Windows tinted. Watching.
"Archi," I croaked, grabbing a bottle of water. "Good morning. Are we secure?"
"Good morning, Surgrim. The perimeter is stable. However, directional microphones are still active on the surveillance vehicle."
"Can they hear us in here?"
"Negative. I have deployed a thin layer of nanites between the inner and outer walls of the container. They are vibrating at a random frequency, turning the entire metal box into a white-noise generator. To their laser microphones, this conversation sounds like static. We are in a cone of silence."
"Good." I sat down at the main console. "Because we need to talk about the worst-case scenario."
Mereel walked in a few minutes later, looking equally tired. He had slept on an air mattress in the server room. "Coffee is brewing," he mumbled. "Did the van move?"
"No," I said. "And that's the problem. They're waiting. Eventually, they might stop waiting and start shooting. Or they'll send a jet up to check out that 'anomaly' in orbit."
I pulled up the schematic of the Nomad. "Archi, be honest. If a fighter jet puts an AIM-120 missile into the Nomad's engine block right now... what happens?"
"The Vantablack armor is heat-resistant, but kinetic impact is different. A standard air-to-air missile would breach the outer hull, likely crippling one of the ion drives. A larger anti-satellite missile (ASAT) would destroy the vessel."
"And a nuke?" Mereel asked, blowing on his coffee. "High altitude detonation?"
"Total vaporization of sensors and optics. The EMP would fry the unshielded nanites on the surface. We would be blind and drifting."
I slammed my hand on the desk. "That's not good enough. We have a 400-meter ship that can eat asteroids, but a fighter pilot with a grudge can take it out? We need upgrades. Now."
January 15, 2019. The Upgrade Plan.
Over the next two days, the warehouse became a war room. While Judy kept the front office running (and loudly complained about the 'camping trip' in the back), Mereel, Archi, and I redesigned the ship.
"Defense," I said, pointing to the hologram floating above the desk. "We can't rely on stealth alone. If the camouflage fails, we're a sitting duck. We need Point Defense."
"I can fabricate laser emitters," Archi suggested. "We have the lenses and the power. A phased-array laser system could track and intercept incoming projectiles—missiles or debris—at a distance of 50 kilometers."
"Lasers are good," Mereel nodded. "Infinite ammo as long as the reactor runs. But what about saturation attacks? A swarm of missiles?"
"We install four turrets. Dorsal, ventral, port, starboard. Each with independent targeting AI. They will create a 'Kill Zone' around the ship. Anything that moves faster than a shuttle and doesn't squawk the right IFF code gets vaporized."
"Do it," I ordered. "Start fabrication in orbit. Use the iron reserve."
January 17, 2019. The Shield Question.
"Okay, lasers shoot things down," I said, pacing the small room. "But what if a laser hits us? Or a railgun slug? Lasers can't shoot down light."
"We need to upgrade the Containment Field," Archi replied. "Currently, it is designed to hold atmosphere in. It is a low-energy barrier. To deflect high-energy impacts, we need to thicken the plasma window."
"Like a deflector shield?"
"In essence. We can project a high-energy magnetic field around the hull and inject plasma into it. It will disperse energy weapons (lasers) and vaporize kinetic rounds before they touch the armor."
"Why didn't we do this earlier?"
"Power consumption. Running a combat-grade shield requires 40% of the reactor's output. We will be bright on infrared sensors. It cannot be active while stealth is engaged. It is a 'Combat Mode' only."
"Better to be bright and alive than invisible and dead," I decided. "Install the emitters. I want a button on my console that says 'Shields Up'."
January 19, 2019. Living in the Void.
Mereel was looking at the internal layout of the Nomad. "Okay, survival is great," he said, tapping the screen. "But if we actually have to flee Earth... I don't want to live in a tin can for ten years. The current habitability is... spartan."
"It has air and gravity," I shrugged.
"It has recycled air and industrial gravity," Mereel corrected. "Surgrim, look at the crew quarters. It's a bunk bed in a steel room. If we are stuck in deep space, we'll go crazy within a month. We need a hydroponics bay. Real plants. Greenery. It helps with oxygen scrubbing, but mostly, it stops you from putting a gun in your mouth."
"Psychological stability is a valid parameter," Archi agreed. "I can convert Cargo Bay 3 into an Arboretum. We can grow algae for biomass and vegetables for consumption. I can also upgrade the water reclamation to... taste better."
"And entertainment," Mereel added. "The server is huge. Load it with movies, games, libraries. If we leave, we take human culture with us."
"Fine," I smiled. "Build the garden. Download Wikipedia and Steam. Make it a home, not just a bunker."
January 20, 2019. Status Report.
The week had passed in a blur of design and tension. Outside, the grey van was replaced by a different grey van. They were rotating shifts. Inside, on the monitors, the Nomad was transforming.
"Upgrade complete," Archi announced on Sunday evening.
The hologram of the ship updated. Small, blister-like turrets now dotted the hull—the Point Defense Lasers. The emitter nodes for the High-Energy Shield were visible along the spine. And deep inside, Cargo Bay 3 was glowing with the soft purple light of grow-lamps.
"Simulations indicate the Nomad can now withstand a direct tactical nuclear engagement, provided shields are active. We can intercept a barrage of 40 Mach-3 missiles simultaneously. And we have enough food production capacity for a crew of four indefinitely."
I leaned back in my chair, looking at the formidable warship we had created from a mining barge. "It's a fortress," I whispered.
"It's an Ark," Mereel corrected quietly.