“Well it’s a start.” Max looked at the jury-rigged tent setup for the egg. Half of his house had been pillaged for the needed supplies. Fabric, blowers, air filters. He would most likely be sleeping in his suit tonight until he could fix his house, but for right now, the egg was contained in it’s own planet’s atmosphere, inside a tent that filtered the air.
He had to weld shut the potassium scrubbers intake on his air filter unit, something he may come to regret if he ever needed to get that unit back for his own home, but it wasn’t something he could worry about right now.
The biter waves were the more pressing danger, and keeping this egg alive.
It seemed to work. The next day the grey and brown parts had begun receding from the egg’s leathery shell, and by the fourth day it looked as good as new if you ignored the now-permanent scars from the cracks it had developed.
Max had used the time to reconstruct his house to half it’s original size, and production was going well enough to keep him supplied and healthy.
But he had a different problem now.
The egg was growing.
And oddly enough, the biter waves had stopped somewhere in there too.
The constant alarms hadn’t bored into his dreams and kept him tossing and turning as they had in recent memory. It was the first morning Max had slept in that he could remember.
The morning was clear, as his miners had filled up their buffers, and, not needing anything else in the way of resources to repair his perimeter walls, they had stopped smelting, mining, and constructing.
A lone logistics bot bobbed lazily in the distance moving some concrete from one storage depot to another.
The entire factory was down, and it was too quiet for Max.
Suddenly, something hit him from behind!
He jumped, releasing a yell and whirled around.
It was a worm, his worm.
It was two feet tall, rooted to the ground, and it was shooting at him!