The research lab buzzed with excitement as Sharath, Serphnia, Marcel, and Ronan congregated around the behemoth pulley launch system. The room throbbed with anticipation, a combination of magical aura and mechanical stress resonating through the space. Today was a new milestone in the Unity Empire's daring experiments: the first human—or, at least, the first sentient being of impressive toughness—would be fired into lunar orbit to check survivability, navigation, and environmental creation.
Volunteers came forward eagerly, waving hands and arguing over who would be the first. Some of the younger scholars raised their hands, hearts pounding with excitement. "I'll go!" one apprentice shouted, only to be gently reminded by Sharath that bravery alone was not a sufficient qualification for surviving outer-space hazards. Magical life-support systems, oxygen tanks, and survival protocols required both strength and precision.
Even Grandfather Bassana, full of energy and charm though he looked no older than seventy, was adamant he be included. "I have lived through centuries of progress," he declared, his eye twinkling, "and I should be the one to make humanity's first attempt at the stars!
Sharath laid a light hand on his grandfather's shoulder. "Bassana, your eagerness is commendable—but your body might not stand the rigors of launch and gravity on the moon. We require someone who can withstand violent acceleration, operate the equipment, and work accurately under stress."
Bassana huffed, pretending to be offended, "So you think I'm too old to be the first lunar astronaut?
Marcel smiled, placing a comforting hand on the grandfather's shoulder. "Not too old for anything, Bassana, but the Moon… that's a different level of challenge. Let's let someone stronger and younger do it this time."
After due consideration, a sturdy Beastman called Thark, who was known for his strength and stability, was chosen. Muscles like iron cables wound beneath, tranquil eyes shining bright with resolve, Thark volunteered to wear the newly devised magical space suit. The suit was a wonder: fastened with rune-threaded armor plating, fitted with oxygen regulators, temperature controllers, nutrient injectors, and emergency propulsion spells.
The launch chamber pulley had been modified for this first-person test. Magical stabilizers and runic harmonics were tuned to handle weight, human—or Beastman—physiology, and gear. Sharath watched over the final integration, eyes scanning the interface and muttering a string of incantations to align the mechanical and magical systems. Marcel tweaked trajectory calculations, Serphnia double-checked environmental runes, and Ronan monitored safety harnesses.
Taking a deep breath, steady hand, Thark boosted into the seated launch pod. The suit softly hissed as life-support mechanisms accessed, oxygen levels indicated on a glowing screen, and tiny magical plants in containment vessels were locked for the lunar test. "All systems nominal," reported Thark, his voice deep and reassuring.
Sharath, beside the pulleys, nodded. "Three… two… one… Launch!"
The pulley catapult groaned, magical runes burning along the ropes and beams. Thark burst skyward in an ethereal arc, a burst of precisely directed energy against the pale blue of Eldora's atmosphere. The lab was quiet, each person holding his breath as the payload reached high altitude, stratospheric altitudes, then beyond, into the thin air of near-space.
The initial minutes were tense. Harmonics wobbled in the realm of magic, necessitating carefully made rune adjustments. BTS computers controlled the trajectory, transmitting real-time corrections to keep the pod on track. Thark made manual adjustments where necessary, showing superb skill and discipline.
At last, the pod entered lunar orbit. Marcel's voice came over the magical comms system: "All systems green. Thrusters are responding. Lunar approach stable."
The most important moment was landing. The pod came down slowly, gravity thumping against the strengthened suit. Each correction had to be accurate. Thark maneuvered the pod with deft application of thrusters, rune stabilizers, and hand corrections. Gently, he set down in a shallow moon crater, sending silver dust flying that glittered in the light of Eldora's far-off sun.
A cry of excitement rang out in the lab on Unity Empire. "Successful landing!" Sharath cried, relief sweeping over him. Serphnia and Ronan applauded, chuckles blended with clapping, as Marcel sat back, arms folded, beaming.
Thark freed himself from the pod and promptly started planting the spell-infused sprouts of the magical bean he had brought along. Tenderly, he fed them water and nutrients from his hand-held dispensers. Hours passed, and the initial sprigs of the Moon Forest established themselves, their magical properties gradually creating breathable air pockets within them. The sensors of the pod showed oxygen levels climbing steadily, pressure leveling out, and the soil gaining self-regulation.
"air…" Thark breathed into the comm, wonder overcoming his calm demeanor. "The air is breathable within the forest zone. The beans… they're healthy. This is… amazing."
Sharath, observing the real-time magical renderings from the lab, experienced a swell of pride. "This is just the start," he said. "With proper planting, daily maintenance, and fertilization, we can blanket the Moon with a habitable zone."
The plan soon snowballed. Various launches would follow: seeds, earth, fertilizer, water, even growth-specific oils. Each delivery would have a caretaker on board to guarantee planting success. Teams would alternate between the Earth and Moon over the next two years, building domes for dwellings, running water systems, and continuing the lunar forests.
They dreamed of a Moon remade: a network of enchanted bean forests, vegetables, medicinal plants, and fully livable environments maintained by masterful magic and science. Each launch was a little miracle—each seed a spark of promise, each bean tree a tiny ecosystem taking shape in the stillness of space.
In the Unity Empire lab, the crew toasted. Thark's live feed showed green shoots against the lunar dust's grey. Marcel proposed a toast, using a magically stabilized glass not to spill. "To the Moon Forest," he said, "and to the first lunatic. I mean, lunar gardener, Thark!
Serphnia giggled, resting against a console. "Next time I hope Bassana doesn't demand planting carrots on the Moon. We'd never have peace.
Sharath smiled, fingers tracing glowing rune projections. "We'll be busy for the next two years, planting, nurturing, and watching the Moon transform. Each launch, each seed, each caretaker will bring us closer to a habitable lunar environment. This isn't just science; it's civilization building—on another world."
The laboratory fell into a subdued bustle as new designs were readied: pulleys optimized for efficiency, better life-support suits, bigger tanks for nutrients, and more powerful magical trees that would grow in little time in low-gravity environments. Everyone realized the weight of the project—not only the literal gravitational difficulties, but the audacity of reengineering an entire celestial body.
And while the Moon Forest expanded secretly beneath Thark's watchful care, in Eldora laughter, strategizing, and magical ingenuity persisted, a demonstration of humanity, Beastmen, and allied empires uniting toward a vision that bridged worlds.