Survivors Wanted

Staring at the chat window that had materialized before my eyes, I found myself wondering just what on earth was going on.

The messages flooding the chat window only grew faster with every passing second.

"…So this was a thing."

Watching that lively stream of messages, I felt a genuine flicker of confusion. And for good reason — the game I'd been possessed into, Astral Lagrange, had never had an in-game chat window of any kind.

But maybe Jessica took my bewildered expression as an opportunity to flip the mood. She came trotting over with quick little steps and pointed at the status window, launching into an explanation.

"Commander, have you by any chance reviewed the contents of the latest update?"

"The latest update?"

Her words jogged my memory of what I'd checked on my phone right before being kidnapped and locked away in this place… but I shook my head and pushed back.

"No, the update email didn't say anything about this."

"I-Is that so."

And it definitely didn't say anything about making me the subject of a kidnapping-and-imprisonment playthrough, either.

At my reaction, Jessica nodded and gestured toward the status window floating in front of me, picking up her explanation.

"Through Astral Lagrange's newest update, a Community System has been established so that all participating Commanders can share essential information with one another!"

"Hmm."

"At the moment, your level is still quite low, so of the Community System's features, only the chat function is available to you…"

As Jessica's voice trailed off, I nodded and finished the thought for her.

"So if I raise my level, I can unlock the rest of the Community System's features."

"Yes, exactly!"

She clapped her hands together in delight. I was about to ask what those other features actually were, but—

"I'm sorry. Due to permission restrictions, I'm afraid I can't disclose that information in advance…"

"Hmm."

Even telling me what the features were seemed to be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠locked behind some kind of restriction. Jessica trailed off with a clear refusal, and I figured if it was a system limitation, there was nothing to be done about it. So I decided to just ask in the chat instead.

The instant my message went up, replies stacked beneath it in a cascade.

Just what kind of community features warranted actual censorship? The developer's baffling policies left me with nothing but questions, but the chat kept hammering on regardless.

Under the relentless barrage of chat messages, I hastily typed out a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kk thx thx and closed the window.

Ugh, what a headache.

"Whew."

"Commander, what do you plan to do from here?"

The moment I finished gathering intel from the chat, Jessica was already waiting with a question, as if she'd been holding it in. I took a moment to think it over, then shrugged.

"Nothing fancy. We start mining resources right now and go from there."

"Yes, Commander."

With that, I pulled out the command console — which was really just a tablet pad sitting at the commander's seat — and got down to actual operations. Jessica headed for the communications equipment in the command post to carry out my orders.

Just like every other ship I had left, there was only a single resource mining vessel remaining. I selected it, flipped on the minimap on the command console, and ordered it to start harvesting the resource zones in our current star system.

All of this was barely any different from the game I'd played on my phone, and somehow that familiarity settled my nerves more than I expected.

But right at that moment—

—Rrrrrrrrrrrrrumble…!!!

—Thudthudthudthud!

"Wh-What?"

Out of nowhere, a violent tremor slammed through the entire base, as if an earthquake had struck the station itself. Jessica and I both staggered.

What the hell is it this time?!

Had space pirates or some space monster already decided to raid us? We'd barely even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠started. My body tensed up on instinct — but then Jessica came sprinting over from the communications console, her face pale with urgency.

"Commander! You set the mining ship's flight path too close to the base!"

Through the vast external observation window of the command post, I saw something I'd never once laid eyes on in my previous life — a colossal structure. No. A resource mining ship, gliding past the base close enough to scrape it.

A moment later, still reeling from just how massive the mining vessel had been, I opened the chat window — partly to make a fuss about what had just happened, and partly to confirm whether a ship that size was even normal.

From the flood of replies, I learned that the mining ship's size was, in fact, perfectly "normal."

I'd quit three years ago, sure — but I'd still been a veteran who'd played since launch. Watching the chat treat me like some pure, unspoiled newbie left me with a strangely complicated feeling.

Anyway, minor hiccup aside — life was full of problems and hardships, and the whole point was to get back up and keep going.

Roughly a week after that incident—

I'd used the base's stockpiled resources to build two more of those enormous, magnificent mining ships. Now I was running all three on rotating shifts, fully committed to stockpiling resources.

There was just one frustrating difference from the game I'd known. Back then, the UI would show me my resource counts at a glance. Here, that wasn't the case.

"Jessica, what's our current resource stockpile?"

"Yes — we currently have approximately five hundred units of ore, and about one hundred fifty rare resources."

I had no idea what features the Community System would eventually unlock ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for me. For now, though, finding anything out required Jessica's help without exception.

Not that it was a real problem at the moment.

With that thought in mind, I was clicking away as usual, silently wishing my mining ships a full hold of cargo, when—

"Um… Commander?"