During the centuries of long-distance voyages, Tom had accumulated countless experimental requirements.

As long as he allocated sufficient industrial power to construct the necessary experimental facilities, verify each hypothesis one by one, collect data, and conduct further analysis, Tom was confident his technological level would advance significantly beyond its current state.

Although these would not be epoch-making breakthroughs—nothing like the leap from nuclear fission to nuclear fusion, or from secondary pressurized propulsion to perfected plasma drives—the accumulation of countless smaller improvements would still push overall progress to a new height.

However, for the moment, Tom had no intention of devoting his industrial capacity or mental focus to technological advancement.

The reason was simple: before anything else, he had to ensure that his interstellar fleet was fully repaired and that all essential materials were stockpiled. Only by reaching a state where he could launch and evacuate the fleet at a moment's notice—any time, from any place—would he have the freedom to turn his attention elsewhere.

Tom had never forgotten the threat of the Mechanical Disaster.

For this reason alone, even technological development could temporarily be set aside.

Now that a sufficiently strong industrial foundation was in place, large-scale production, repair, and resource accumulation began at once.

Factories roared day and night, producing mountains of components. Countless clones, aboard industrial ships, moved among the fleet, conducting repairs and replacing faulty systems during complex spacewalk missions.

Enormous orbital shipyards capable of docking entire Aerospace Carriers were built one after another. For the first time in centuries, the Carriers could dock, evacuate all non-essential personnel, shut down their internal systems, and undergo complete overhauls.

The total number of spacecraft under Tom's command—large and small—exceeded one hundred million. Every single one underwent the most thorough inspection and maintenance in history.

On Altair A, the massive gas giant, Tom selected several stable atmospheric zones and designated them as deuterium fields. Thousands of modified Jupiter-class aircraft were deployed there, extracting deuterium continuously, day and night.

Endless supplies of components, raw materials, water ice, methane, ethane, sulfuric acid, nitric acid, caustic soda, and other base compounds were being refined and stored in vast orbital warehouses.

Inside the spacecraft factories, robots and clones assembled parts non-stop, while countless completed ships began to gather in orbit.

Tom had no plans to build an entirely new fleet. The ships under construction were not replacements but decoys—empty shells designed purely for misdirection.

After more than twenty years of focused work, every task was finally complete.

The battered fleet that had endured centuries of interstellar travel was fully revitalized, its ships restored to peak condition.

The warehouses that had once been empty now overflowed with supplies and materials gathered from across the Altair System.

Dozens of decoy fleets—complete with ballast and empty structures—were now in place. If necessary, they could launch instantly in different directions, serving as false signals to mislead any pursuing force.

Even the clones lost during the past decades had been replaced. The cloning factories had replenished their numbers to a full three billion.

At last, Tom could say that all preparations for the next interstellar voyage were complete.

If necessary, he could issue a retreat order that very moment. Within a maximum of five days—enough time to gather all clones and critical materials—the entire fleet could depart the Altair System.

For the first time in centuries, Tom's heart, which had been burdened with vigilance, eased slightly.

Only after securing the ability to evacuate at any time did he allow himself to consider other matters.

He looked up at the faint star glimmering in the distance.

The Sun.

To his eyes now, it was merely one ordinary star among billions—indistinguishable from the rest.

Even with the most advanced telescopes, he could detect no changes, no signs of movement within the solar system.

The vastness of the universe veiled all detail, concealing every secret behind an impenetrable curtain of darkness—a darkness that not even the strongest electromagnetic signals could pierce.

For any other Electroweak Civilization, information from the solar system would have been impossible to obtain.

But Tom was different.

The unique link between his main body and his countless clones operated on a principle beyond known science—capable of piercing through this cosmic silence and allowing thought itself to traverse between stars.

And yet, he had received no contact from the clones still hibernating within the solar system.

That could only mean that nothing unusual had occurred there—no fleets had entered the system.

Or perhaps, an external fleet had already arrived, and those clones had been awakened, but due to the immense distance, their memories and perceptions had not yet reached him through the delay of this mysterious connection.

The situation was uncertain. Since no information had reached him yet, Tom could only assume that, for now, nothing had happened.

"If the Mechanical Disaster has not yet reached the solar system," Tom thought, "then I, here in the Altair System, am safe—temporarily.

"At the same time, technological development requires the support of ample materials. Even for me, who can carry more resources than most civilizations, progress during interstellar voyages is painfully slow.

"If I were to embark on another journey now, development would halt again. And if I cannot develop, I cannot overcome the threat of the Mechanical Disaster.

"Then… let's not leave yet. Let's remain here in the Altair System and dedicate everything to research and development. If the Mechanical Disaster truly reaches the solar system, it won't be too late to escape then."

Having made up his mind, Tom redirected the entire industrial complex toward scientific advancement.

Laboratories and research bases sprang up like forests after rain. Countless clones were reassigned to scientific work, testing hypotheses accumulated during centuries of travel.

Data poured in—experiment after experiment, theory after theory. Hypotheses were proven or discarded, and one by one, new technologies began to emerge.

Although most of these discoveries were minor and highly specific—such as increasing the tensile strength of a certain alloy by five percent or improving the toughness of a structural beam by three—they still brought a spark of satisfaction to Tom.

"Little by little, they add up," he thought. "One improvement means nothing, but tens of thousands—or hundreds of thousands—together can reshape everything."

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