The Free Shuttle

An abandoned auto factory was almost done with a job, but then sat for ages.

In the year 2247, deep in the uncharted caves of Kepler-442b, explorer Lena Korsakov stumbled upon a peculiar cavern. Her suit’s sensors pinged wildly, detecting faint electromagnetic pulses. The air hummed with latent energy. Curiosity piqued, she ventured deeper, her boots crunching against crystalline gravel. The cave walls glistened with strange, metallic veins, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. At the cavern’s heart stood a massive, dormant structure—angular, sleek, and unmistakably artificial. It was an autofactory, ancient and alien, its purpose unknown.


Lena’s gloved hand brushed against a control panel, its surface cold and smooth. A holographic interface flickered to life, projecting schematics of a shuttlecraft—compact, elegant, designed for interstellar hops. The factory’s status blinked: 99.98% complete. A single component was missing, halting production for centuries. Lena’s eyes traced the blueprint to a hopper embedded in the machine, its input slot empty. Whatever it needed, it wasn’t here.


She explored further, her flashlight catching glints of scattered debris. Near the hopper lay a pile of crystalline shards, identical to the gravel underfoot. On a hunch, she picked one up, its edges sharp and warm. The factory’s hum grew louder as she approached the hopper. Hesitating, she tossed the shard in. It clinked, then vanished into the machine.


The autofactory roared to life. Lights flared, gears whirred, and a conveyor belt hummed. Lena stepped back, heart pounding, as the machine sculpted raw materials from the cave’s walls into components. Within minutes, a sleek shuttlecraft materialized, its hull gleaming under the cavern’s bioluminescent glow. The factory’s interface chimed, displaying “Production Complete.”


Lena climbed aboard, the cockpit welcoming her with intuitive controls. As she powered up, the cave trembled, revealing a hidden launch tunnel. The shuttlecraft soared into Kepler’s starry sky, leaving the autofactory to slumber once more, its purpose fulfilled by a single, serendipitous act.