The Unity Empire's research laboratory was abuzz with intent like a living thing, wires, runes, and magical conduits throbbing in harmony. For the first time, the Moon Forest endeavor had departed from small-scale planting tests and into large-scale expansion. From the magical pulley launch systems through to the life-support suits and automated nutrient dispensers, every square inch of the lab pulsed with activity.
Sharath, Serphnia, Marcel, and Ronan met again, discussing the new caretaker team roster. In contrast to the first experiment, these caretaker teams switched between Earth and the Moon. Each caretaker—human, elf, or Beastman—was tasked with maintaining a unique lunar quadrant, keeping tabs on soil, plant life, oxygen, and magical stabilization.
"You'd imagine planting a handful of beans was easy," Sharath said, tapping the projection interface. "Now we're dealing with hundreds of saplings, more than one species, and establishing a breathable atmosphere in low gravity. And not to forget the occasional magical backlash."
Ronan smiled. "I knew this day would arrive. 'Moon gardeners'—sounds pleasant enough. Though I confess, I never dreamed I'd be sending my best men into orbit to water vegetables."
Serphnia raised an eyebrow, sipping tea from a magically stabilized cup that hovered beside her. "It's more than watering. We're creating a self-sustaining ecosystem. Gravity, soil composition, water distribution, magical energy flow… it all has to align."
Marcel, adjusting his flight interface, chuckled. "And let's not forget the drama. There's nothing like zero-gravity soil slippage to test patience. I've seen entire crates of lunar dirt float across the cabin like confetti at a festival."
The caretaker crews were extensively prebriefed prior to departure. Each crew needed to know lunar soil's quirks: a combination of fine, biting dust that stuck to everything and collapsed under little pressure, requiring planting to be a gentle process. Magical stabilization fields assisted, but even the most precisely tuned runes would sometimes drift, sending saplings whirling around the dome.
Thark, the senior caretaker of the moon, was now a legend in the teams. His first solo assignment had demonstrated that precise planting and tending could create areas of breathable air, but mass production brought additional complications.
"Team Alpha," Sharath spoke via the magical comm system, "see that the soil is adequately hydrated prior to planting. Don't forget the low gravity—trees develop differently here. Roots spread more horizontally than back home, so support the soil containment runes."
Descending from lunar orbit, the teams fell into their respective quadrants. The initial sensations were always a combination of wonder and disorientation. It was like walking on a sand-covered trampoline with reinforced suits. Any movement transmitted a slight spring effect through the body, which needed to be coordinated. Gloved hands that performed magic made it easier to handle tools and seeds, but even then, the caretakers had to accommodate small lags in reaction due to the interaction of gravity and magical latency.
The initial planting session was not surprisingly disorganized. Saplings ejected from pots drifted half-way across the dome before caretakers could wind them back. Seedlings crashed into one another mid-air, ending up as a knot of roots and leaves that looked like a miniature green tornado. Thark's thunderous laughter boomed over the comms: "I told you! Gravity is courteous here… just not reliable!"
One memorable incident involved Marcel attempting to prune a sapling with a magical shears tool. The shears misinterpreted his gestures, rapidly expanding and contracting, sending a plume of soil and nutrient mist directly at his helmet visor. Marcel emerged moments later blinking and sputtering, "I've been… fertilized, apparently!" The other caretakers—along with Thark—roared with laughter, their voices magnified by the magical comm channels.
Humor aside, the project required meticulous attention to oxygen availability. All domes featured magically amplified oxygen generators and reserve tanks, but the low gravity made air currents act erratically. Caretakers needed to learn how to distribute air uniformly, usually with fans implanted with minor runic currents. Mismanagement would leave thin pockets of oxygen that tingled in the skin unexpectedly, or at worst, dizziness from floating upside down close to a bean tree.
Routines developed over the weeks. Daily, caretakers:
Recommended oxygen and magical stabilization runes.
Watered soil with enchanted water dispensers.
Planted or transplanted saplings based on estimated growth patterns.
Observed root growth and magical energy uptake.
Recorded growth rates and environmental measurements for analysis.
The humor never really went away, usually based on the mix of serious scientific endeavor and capricious lunar physics. A cluster of freshly planted lettuce one day wandered idly up into the air, buffeted by a slight magical outburst. One of the caretakers, in the process of trying to tie it back down, inadvertently floated over sideways into a pile of nutrient containers. The resulting mess resembled a airborne snowstorm of green leaves, dirt, and water drops. Serphnia, monitoring the live stream from the control room, couldn't help but guffaw: "It's… a salad tornado!
"
Amidst these lighter moments, drama was always around the corner. Periodic magical backlash produced energy spikes that made plants explode into growth, sometimes actually splitting in two before caretakers could apply stabilizing measures. Thark managed those crises with measured cool, walking teams through live corrections, realigning runes, and redistributing magical energy by hand.
The first two months were the most trying. Root growth in low gravity caused some trees to fall without warning, erosion in the containment fields interrupted plant growth, and a number of saplings were afflicted by nutrient imbalances. The crews adapted quickly, designing hybrid soil blends that used lunar dust, magic fertilizers, and nutrients derived from Earth. They also tried micro-domes, small dome-shaped protective coverings that permitted the trees to adapt before incorporating them into the main forest.
Humor was still a vital aspect of morale, though. One caretaker, trying to trim a magical tree, inadvertently caused a small growth spurt that made the tree produce tiny bean pods in rapid succession, burying him whole. "I'm buried!" he yelled over the comm. "Send… send soil… I mean, send help!" Thark's thunderous laughter was the reply: "Welcome to Moon gardening! You requested beans, you received beans!"
The teams learned through experimentation and made lunar farming a science. They identified the best layouts for planting to make up for low gravity, contained runes to stop root destabilization, and tuned magical irrigation mechanisms to evenly distribute water on suspended beds of soil. Oxygen stabilization was achieved as the Moon Forest grew, gradually producing broader areas to breathe.
Magical interference was still an occasional problem. High-energy runes with some trees interacted with the magical DNA of the bean trees to create chaotic growth patterns. Some trees developed giant branches that floated in zero gravity and needed to be tethered or pruned using levitation spells. Sometimes floating saplings would collide, causing tiny arcs of magical energy to fire between them. Each occurrence necessitated quick response but also yielded precious information for adjusting the Moon Forest ecosystem.
By the second year, the Moon Forest had changed large tracts of the lunar surface. Groves of enchanted bean trees, patches of vegetables, and nourishing soil beds grew into a patchwork of lush green against the lunar dust's grey background. Life support systems and magical stabilization runes had worked, and routine was well established. Caretakers shifted regularly, providing fresh management and constant growth.
By the second year, growth was on a runaway pace. Each squad worked in close sync with the BTS magical computers, which computed best planting schemes, monitored environmental levels, and forecast magical energy fluctuations. Trees which were established in the first year now formed mini-atmospheres in domes so that smaller plants and test crops could be grown. The Moon Forest was no longer test—it was becoming self-sustaining.
Dramatic interludes still punctuated the work. One caretaker, in an effort to take the growth rate of a magical pumpkin, inadvertently released a spell that made the pumpkin levitate and float into a low-orbit path. "I… I believe my pumpkin is orbiting the Moon!" he exclaimed in haste. The lab back on Eldora dissolved into laughter, and Thark calmly adjusted the trajectory, grumbling, "Next time, check the anti-levitation rune before planting!
In spite of these difficulties, the crew became steadily more capable. Humor every day, small accidents, and occasional magical bursts solidified bonds of friendship. Under the alien night sky of the Moon, caretakers met in tiny domes to swap tales, joke about floating beans, and admire the fast-growing green world outside.
At the conclusion of two years, the Unity Empire had effectively set up:
Atmospheric pockets for breathing in several quadrants on the Moon.
Vibrant groves of enchanted bean trees, produce, and other farm crops.
Rotation caretaker procedures providing around-the-clock monitoring.
Information-intensive books on soil stabilization, oxygenation, and magical interference.
A lighthearted yet well-disciplined culture of humor, improvisation, and collaborative work.
Sharath, watching the expanding Moon Forest through magical images in the laboratory, grinned. "It's not just a forest," he whispered. "It's evidence that knowledge, magic, and prudent planning can make life thrive anywhere—even in space's emptiness."
Ronan, lounging in a chair, drinking levitating tea, laughed. "And that even in silence, there's a way for humor. Who would have thought floating dirt and playful bean trees would make us laugh while constructing a new world?"
Marcel stood up, his goblet in hand. "To the Moon Forest—where each mistake is an adventure, each sapling a hero, and each caretaker a legend."
Serphnia nodded, her eyes sparkling. "And to the next step—habitation of the full moon. But let's have minimal salad tornadoes."
Gleeful laughter rang within the Unity Empire research facility, a blend of joy, relief, and pride. The Moon Forest was a testament to two years of meticulous work, mastery of magic, and a dash of mayhem. Preceding it all, Thark went about maintaining the lunar groves, guiding saplings, locking down nutrients, and occasionally chasing drifting heads of lettuce, all with good sense and unswerving focus. The Moon, once desolate and barren, slowly became a thriving environment. And the guardians, laughing and sometimes smeared with moon dirt, knew this was only the start of a civilization across worlds.