Chapter 1
      Luck, I've always believed, plays a huge role in the game of life. No matter the 
amount of planning or insight you bring to the table, sometimes luck comes around and 
upends everything when you least expect it. Just ask Senator Clive Littlebrook. Eleven years 
my senior and a man who liked to think of himself as exceptionally clever—or at least that's 
what he said. He was a politician whose speeches could either put you to sleep or get you 
fired up in an instant. As for me, I'm Dave Camptain, a regular space pilot just trying to make 
ends meet.
      The moment our ship's sensors blared their warning about Yuga 16, my stomach 
dropped. In a split second, I had to jettison the fuel. It was either that or crash directly into the 
sun that had completely blindsided us. The ship lurched, and I gritted my teeth as we 
plummeted towards the second planet in Yuga 16's system.
      We hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud. For a moment, all I could hear was the 
hiss of fried circuitry and my own ragged breathing. As the dust settled, the reality of our 
situation sank in. We were stranded on an uncharted planet with no immediate hope of 
rescue. Our radio? Almost entirely useless. Even if we sent out a distress signal, it would take 
ages for anyone to hear us.
      Clive took the situation better than I anticipated—after about three hours of blaming 
me, of course.
      "Well, Dave," he sighed dramatically, "looks like we'll have to adapt to our new 
reality. Let's save the blame game for when we have less pressing matters to tackle."
      "That sounds like a plan," I muttered under my breath, knowing full well we would be 
stuck here long enough to revisit this discussion repeatedly.
      Clive, being the politician that he is, couldn't help but see our predicament as a chance 
to assert control. "I've always said that every settlement, no matter its size, needs a 
governance structure. We need a plan that suits our surroundings."
      I raised an eyebrow. "Clive, this is not a colony; it's just the two of us trying to 
survive."
      He waved me off, already lost in his own grand ideas. "On this planet, I'll take the 
lead, of course. You can handle the rest—"
      "Excuse me?" I interrupted, my patience wearing thin.
      "It's straightforward," Clive continued, gesturing animatedly as if he were on stage. 
"I'll manage our direction, and you'll contribute your skills."
      I suppressed the urge to laugh or hit him—after all, I was stuck here with him, and it 
was likely we'd be marooned for a while. As much as it irked me, I figured it was best to play 
along with his little fantasy—for the time being.
      "The first thing we need is to locate shelter, food, and water," Clive declared, puffing 
out his chest.
      "But we have all of that on the ship," I replied, crossing my arms.
      "We can't be certain how long we'll be stuck here," Clive said, adopting that serious 
tone of his. "We need to strive for self-sufficiency."
      I decided to humor him; no point in arguing, and besides, I was eager to explore.

 
Chapter 2
      I set out to explore the area around our crash site, with Clive tagging along like an 
overeager puppy. A couple of miles away, rolling hills covered in lush vegetation beckoned. 
Given the small animals we'd already spotted, I figured there might be game there, and 
hopefully water too.
      As we trudged along, the reality of our situation began to sink in. The alien sun beat 
down on us, its unfamiliar warmth a constant reminder of how far we were from home. The 
air carried a faint, sweet scent - not quite floral, not quite fruity - that tickled my nostrils with 
each breath.
      "You know, Dave," Clive said, breaking the eerie silence, "we really should establish 
some sort of governance structure. For efficiency's sake."
      I rolled my eyes. "Clive, there are literally two of us. What exactly are we 
governing?"
      "It's about principles, my friend," he replied, puffing out his chest. "Even in the direst 
circumstances, order must prevail. We need a system!"
      I bit back a sigh. "Sure, Clive. Whatever you say."
      As we crested a hill, the sight before us stopped us both in our tracks. Not only was 
there a clear stream running through a verdant valley, but the remnants of a ruined city 
sprawled across the landscape. Massive stone structures, their surfaces etched with intricate, 
swirling patterns, rose from the ground like the bones of some long-dead leviathan.
      "Well, I'll be damned," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
      Clive's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Do you know what this means, 
Dave? We're not just survivors – we're explorers! Discoverers!"
      I had to admit, it was pretty incredible. As we made our way down to investigate, the 
silence of the ruins pressed in on us. No birds sang, no insects buzzed - just the whisper of the 
wind through empty doorways and crumbling arches.
      "Fascinating," Clive mused, running his hand along a wall adorned with strange, 
angular symbols. "This adds a whole new dimension to our situation. We must document 
everything!"
      I nodded, actually agreeing with him for once. "Yeah, it's going to make survival 
more interesting, that's for sure. But let's not forget our priorities."
      "Oh, it's more than that," Clive said, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that was 
starting to worry me. "We have a responsibility now. To preserve this history, to understand 
it. To rebuild!"
      "And to survive," I added pointedly, eyeing the lengthening shadows. "Let's focus on 
finding food and clean water before we start drafting constitutions, alright?"
      As if on cue, my foot kicked something metallic hidden beneath the dust. I bent down 
to investigate and found myself holding a handful of square, flat objects. They were 
tarnished, but unmistakably made of gold.
      "Well, would you look at that," I said, showing Clive. "Looks like we've got our own 
Fort Knox here."
      Clive's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "My word! We're wealthy beyond our 
wildest dreams! This changes everything, Dave. Don't you see? We're not just survivors 
anymore - we're the foundation of a new society!"
      I couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing off the ancient walls. "Wealthy? Clive, 
what exactly are we going to buy with this? A dust sandwich?"
      But Clive was already off in his own world, his voice rising with excitement as he 
spoke of banks and economies and trade agreements. I tuned him out, focusing instead on our 
actual priorities.
      "Look," I said, cutting him off mid-rant about fiscal policies, "gold's great and all, but 
we still need to find food. Unless you want to survive on those rabbit-looking things we saw 
earlier."
      Clive nodded, somewhat reluctantly. "You're right, of course. But don't discount the 
importance of establishing an economic framework, Dave. It's the backbone of any thriving 
society. We must plan for the future!"
      I decided to humor him, hoping it would keep him focused. "Alright, how about this – 
you work on your 'economic framework,' and I'll focus on not starving to death. Deal?"
      "Capital idea!" Clive exclaimed, his enthusiasm undimmed. "I'll start by taking 
inventory of our newfound wealth. There must be more where this came from."
      As Clive began meticulously counting coins, I explored further into the ruins. The 
fading sunlight cast long shadows across the crumbling structures, giving them an 
otherworldly appearance. Near the edge of the city, I found a larger building nestled against a 
hillside. Its facade, supported by fluted columns, was in surprisingly good shape – probably 
protected from the elements by the hill.
      "Hey Clive," I called out. "I think I found your bank!"
      Clive hurried over, practically salivating at the prospect of more treasure. Together, 
we entered the building. Sunlight streamed through gaps in the deteriorated roof, illuminating 
what must have once been a grand hall. In the center stood a hollow square altar, covered in 
those same angular symbols we'd seen outside. Scattered all around were more gold coins, 
bars of tarnished silver, and even glass jugs filled with what looked like precious stones.
      The air inside was thick with dust and the musty smell of ages past. As we moved 
further in, our footsteps echoed in the cavernous space, stirring up clouds of ancient debris.
      "Unbelievable," I whispered, taking it all in.
      Clive was beside himself with excitement. "Dave, my friend, do you realize what this 
means? We're not just wealthy – we're the wealthiest beings on this entire planet! We have 
the power to shape the future!"
      I couldn't help but grin at his enthusiasm, even as a part of me worried about his 
growing obsession. "I guess that makes you the richest senator in the galaxy, huh?"
      "Oh, we're far beyond mere senators now," Clive said, his voice taking on a dreamy 
quality. "We're the founders of a new world. A new economy. A new... everything!"
      As Clive rambled on about the glorious future he envisioned, I found myself 
wondering about the past. Who were the beings that built this place? What happened to them? 
And more importantly – were we truly alone here?
      Just then, a voice cut through the dusty air, answering my unspoken question:
      "Well, well. Looks like Lonesome Planet just got a lot less lonesome."

Chapter 3
      The coins slipped from my fingers, clattering on the stone floor as I spun around. My 
heart leaped into my throat. Framed in the red sunlight streaming through the broken roof 
stood a woman, her silhouette etched against the alien sky. She wasn't smiling.
      What made her look formidable wasn't just her stance, but the large, old-fashioned .38 
revolver gripped in her hand. This was no ghost of a vanished race. She was real, from her 
wavy black hair to the crude handmade sandals on her feet.
      Her brown eyes were soft but glinted with determination. She wore shorts and a loose 
blouse that seemed to be woven from grass fibers and animal skins. Everything about her 
spoke of survival and adaptation.
      I found myself torn between watching the gun and taking in her whole appearance. 
My mouth went dry as I tried to gauge how quickly she might pull the trigger. In the end, I 
decided to focus on her face. The gun wasn't being fired, after all... yet.
      The silence stretched, thick and heavy. I could hear Clive's ragged breathing behind 
me, could almost feel the tremor in his hands. The woman's eyes narrowed, her finger 
tightening ever so slightly on the trigger.
      "Well," she said finally, her voice dry and laced with a dangerous edge, "looks like 
Lonesome Planet just got a lot less lonesome."
      "Good heavens," Clive exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly. "A fifty-percent 
increase in population!"
      The woman's eyes flashed with irritation. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she 
growled. "First, introductions. You can start by dropping your weapons."
      I didn't hesitate, unclipping my holster and letting it fall to the floor. Clive, after a 
moment's hesitation, followed suit.
      "Now," she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "who are you fine gentlemen, 
and what brings you to my little corner of the universe?"
      "Your planet?" Clive sputtered, indignant. "My dear, you can't possibly claim an 
entire planet. Squatter's rights only extend so far, you know."
      I winced at Clive's tone, but the woman just raised an eyebrow. "This gun says 
otherwise," she replied coolly, raising the weapon slightly. "Now, names. Unless you'd prefer 
I make some up for you?"
      "I'm Dave Camptain," I said quickly, before Clive could make things worse. "I'm a 
space pilot. This is Senator Clive Littlebrook."
      "Senator?" She actually laughed at that, a harsh, humorless sound. "Well, Senator, I 
hate to break it to you, but your title doesn't mean squat out here."
      Clive puffed up, ready to launch into what I'm sure would have been a lengthy speech 
about the importance of government, but I cut him off. "And you are?" I asked the woman, 
trying to keep my voice steady.
      "Rosemary," she replied, her tone softening just a fraction. "And like I said, this is my 
planet. You're trespassing."
      "Now see here," Clive began, but I stepped on his foot.
      "Look, Rosemary," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and reasonable, "we didn't 
mean to trespass. Our ship crashed. We're just trying to survive."
      Something in Rosemary's eyes softened slightly. "Crashed, huh? That's rough. But it 
doesn't change the fact that you're uninvited guests."
      "Guests?" Clive exclaimed. "We're not guests, we're explorers! Pioneers! We have 
every right to—"
      "Clive," I hissed, "not helping."
      Rosemary's grip on the gun tightened, her knuckles whitening. "You have the right to 
turn around and leave. That's about it."
      I held up my hands in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay. Let's all calm down. 
Rosemary, we can't leave. Our ship is wrecked. We're stuck here, same as you."
      She considered this for a moment, her eyes never leaving mine. "Fine. But that doesn't 
mean you get to waltz in and take over."
      "Take over?" Clive sputtered. "We're merely trying to establish a proper government, 
a system of order—"
      "Clive," I cut in, "maybe now's not the time for that."
      Rosemary lowered the gun slightly, but her eyes remained wary. "Here's how this is 
going to work. You two are going to tell me everything about how you got here and why. 
Then we'll figure out what to do next. Clear?"
      I nodded quickly. "Crystal clear."
      Clive opened his mouth to protest, but one look from Rosemary silenced him.
      "Good," she said, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. "Now, start talking. And make 
it interesting – it's been a long time since I've had any new stories around here."
      As I began recounting our misadventure, my eyes kept darting to her gun. Now that 
the initial shock had worn off, I noticed something. It was old, really old, and rusted in spots. 
There was no way that thing would fire—not without causing her more damage than us. The 
realization gave me a surge of confidence.
      I hesitated for a beat, then decided to take a risk. "Before we get too deep into story 
time, how about I just take care of this?"
      Before anyone could react, I lunged forward, grabbing for the revolver. I thought I 
had the upper hand, but I couldn't have been more wrong.
      In one smooth motion, Rosemary twisted my wrist, sidestepped, and flipped me over 
her shoulder. I hit the ground with a thud, gasping as the air was knocked out of me.
      "Nice try," she said, not even breaking a sweat. "You boys still want to test your 
luck?"
      From my new position on the floor, I waved weakly. "Nope. All good here."
      Clive's eyes were wide as saucers, but he quickly composed himself. "Now that the... 
physical part is over," he said, his voice cracking slightly, "we can return to more civilized 
discussions."
      Rosemary didn't even acknowledge him. "Next time you try something like that, 
Dave," she warned, her eyes still sharp, "I won't be so nice."
      "Got it," I wheezed, still trying to catch my breath. "Message received."
      Clive's eyes were wide as saucers, but he quickly composed himself. "Now that... the 
tension has eased," he said, his voice cracking slightly, "we can return to more civilized 
discussions. I'll nominate myself for president and general manager of this planet."
      Rosemary scoffed. "I'll nominate you for president of nonsense."
      Clive blinked, clearly unprepared for such direct resistance. "We're starting with a 
free election," he declared. "As there's no opposition, I'll be elected unanimously."
      Rosemary rolled her eyes but said nothing, clearly uninterested in playing along. She 
turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. "When you two need food or, you know, survival 
tips, I'll be around."
      Something told me that life with Rosemary was going to be far from simple.
      At least it wouldn't be boring.

Chapter 4
      After Rosemary left us to our own devices, Clive and I sat in silence for a while. The 
ruins around us were quiet, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the decaying 
structures. The silence, however, didn’t last long.
      “Well,” Clive said at last, breaking the stillness, “now that we’ve established some 
ground rules—”
      I raised an eyebrow. “We did?”
      “Of course! Democracy is all about negotiation, and she’s agreed to let us stay,” Clive 
continued, dusting off his pants. “Now, we need to focus on—”
      I sighed, letting my back rest against a crumbling wall. As Clive launched into 
another monologue about governance, I spotted a cluster of berries growing through a crack 
in the stone. They looked familiar. I plucked a few, rolling them between my fingers as I half-
listened.
      “The next step is to ensure a stable economic—"
      “Clive,” I interrupted, holding up the berries, “we don’t even have enough people for 
an economy, let alone a currency. But we do have these. They look like something from the 
survival guide back on the ship.”
      Clive paused mid-sentence, momentarily distracted. “Are they safe to eat?”
      “Only one way to find out.” I tossed one into my mouth. Tart, but not bad. “We need 
food before we can talk about governance.”
      Just then, there was a rustling sound from the nearby bushes. Clive and I both froze. A 
moment later, Rosemary emerged, carrying a makeshift basket filled with various plants.
      "Talking politics already, boys?" she asked with a smirk. "You sure know how to get 
to the important stuff."
      Clive straightened, eager to regain the conversational upper hand. "We were merely 
discussing the establishment of a fair and functional society,” he said, adopting his most 
formal tone.
      Rosemary rolled her eyes. “Right. Well, I hope your fair and functional society knows 
how to fish and gather food because you’re going to need it if you plan on staying alive.”
      "We were just about to discuss that, actually," Clive said, pushing through his 
momentary setback. “After all, cooperation is essential for the community—”
      “Uh-huh,” Rosemary replied, unimpressed. She glanced at me. “Dave, you seem a 
little more down to earth. Got any survival skills to back that up?”
      I shrugged, standing up and showing her the berries. “I can fish, and I know enough 
about plants to not poison myself.”
      “Good,” she said, inspecting the berries briefly before nodding approval. “Because 
I’m not here to babysit. You’ll need to pull your weight if you want to eat.”
      Clive puffed out his chest, attempting to regain control. “I assure you, Rosemary, 
we’re more than capable of contributing. In fact, I have a plan to—”
      Rosemary cut him off with a sharp laugh. “A plan? Of what? Delegating tasks while 
you sit back and play president?”
      Clive blinked, momentarily thrown off. “I’m just saying that every society needs 
effective leadership. I happen to be equipped for the role.”
      Rosemary’s gaze hardened. “What makes you think you’re in charge here? You’re not 
even the one with food.” She held up her basket with a knowing grin.
      Before Clive could dig himself deeper, I jumped in. “Look, we’re all stuck here, so 
how about we focus on staying alive first, and then you two can debate who's in charge 
later?”
      Rosemary glanced at me, then at Clive. After a pause, she nodded. “Fine. But I’m not 
waiting around for you two to play government. If you want to eat, you’ll have to earn it.”
      Clive looked like he wanted to argue, but for once, he stayed quiet, possibly 
reconsidering his approach.
      Rosemary turned and began walking away. “I’ll be around when you’re ready to help 
out,” she called back over her shoulder.
      As she disappeared into the ruins, I popped another berry into my mouth, glancing at 
Clive, who looked deep in thought.
      “This isn’t over,” he muttered, but I could see the gears turning in his mind, a mix of 
annoyance and newfound resolve.
      I sighed. “It never is with you.”
      Chapter 5
      Three weeks had passed since our crash landing, and the rhythm of survival had 
settled over us like a well-worn routine. Morning light meant setting out to check the traps, 
gathering food, and reinforcing the shelters we'd cobbled together from the wrecked ship and 
remnants of the old buildings. Clive remained at camp, overseeing his self-appointed 
governance, while Rosemary and I ventured out to explore the ruins and surrounding area.
      Despite the steady progress, something about our situation gnawed at me. The traps 
had been productive, and Rosemary's garden provided more than enough food for the three of 
us, but I couldn't shake the feeling that we were missing something. A part of me knew this 
wasn't sustainable—not forever. We could only weave so many ropes from grass and fashion 
tools from stone before our luck ran out. And there was something else, a nagging sensation I 
couldn't quite place, as if the planet itself was holding its breath.
      "Over here," Rosemary called, her voice echoing through the stone-laden valley. I 
glanced up to see her crouched near an old stone frieze, one of many we'd uncovered in the 
ruins. She was brushing away centuries of dust and dirt with careful, practiced strokes, 
revealing faded carvings underneath.
      "These people," she murmured, almost to herself. "Whoever they were, they left more 
behind than I thought."
      I crouched down beside her, squinting at the carvings. Humanoid figures, armed with 
crude tools, stood in rough lines across the stone. The lines were faint, but there was no 
mistaking their shape—tall, erect, purposeful.
      "They look a lot like us," I said, running my fingers over the grooves. "More 
advanced than I would've expected."
      Rosemary nodded, her brow furrowed. "They had their own civilization. Not as 
advanced as Earth, but they built these cities. I've found bits of iron and stone tools. They had 
technology, maybe even a social structure." She paused, her gaze distant. "But something 
happened. They're gone, and I don't know why."
      The air felt heavier as her words sank in. "Do you think we could be next?"
      "I don't know," she said quietly. "But I need to find out."
      I watched her work, marveling at her expertise. "You seem to know a lot about this 
kind of thing," I ventured. "Were you an archaeologist before... all this?"
      Rosemary's hands stilled for a moment. "Not exactly," she said, a hint of something—
regret, maybe?—in her voice. "I was part of an interplanetary research team. We studied 
remnants of civilizations across different worlds. It wasn't always... sanctioned work."
      I raised an eyebrow. "You were a space archaeologist?"
      A small smile tugged at her lips. "Something like that. Let's just say it prepared me for 
situations like this."
      We worked in silence for a while longer, uncovering small trinkets and scattered 
artifacts that hinted at a once-thriving society. Rosemary pocketed a small, intricately carved 
amulet—something she believed held significance, though she couldn't say what. I focused 
on more practical concerns, my eyes scanning the ruins for anything we could use—tools, 
building materials, anything to improve our survival.
      As we started making our way back toward camp, a low, rumbling sound echoed 
through the hills. It was faint, but unmistakable, like a distant rockslide or the shifting of 
earth beneath us. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and that nagging feeling of 
unease intensified.
      I stopped and glanced at Rosemary. "Did you hear that?"
      She nodded, her brow furrowed. "It's not the first time I've heard it. The planet's 
unstable in parts. There are areas I haven't explored yet—too dangerous to go alone."
      "What do you think it is?"
      "I don't know," she said, her voice low. "But I've been meaning to find out."
      We quickened our pace, the ruins giving way to the makeshift camp we'd built. Clive 
was waiting for us, standing atop his usual perch of stones—the "platform" from which he 
surveyed his kingdom. He greeted us with a wide grin, clearly pleased with whatever grand 
plan he had come up with during our absence.
      "Ah, you've returned," Clive called, his tone full of exaggerated authority. "Find 
anything useful for the future of our burgeoning society?"
      "We found something," I said, straight to the point. "There are more ruins out there. 
Bigger, more intact than what we've seen so far."
      Clive's eyes lit up with interest. "Ah, yes! Expansion! It's the cornerstone of any 
thriving civilization. These new buildings could serve as administrative hubs—or perhaps a 
senate chamber."
      Rosemary, ever the pragmatist, didn't bother responding to his fantasies. "We need to 
explore them tomorrow," she said, her tone firm. "There could be tools, supplies—something 
we can use to improve our survival."
      As we settled in for the night, the quietness of the planet returned, but the memory of 
the rumbling sound from earlier lingered. It wasn't loud, but it was enough to stir that deep 
sense of unease. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were missing something crucial, that the 
planet was trying to tell us something we weren't yet able to understand.
      Later, long after the camp had gone still and the embers of our fire began to fade, the 
rumbling returned—louder this time. It was subtle, barely more than a tremor beneath the 
ground, but enough to keep me awake, staring up at the stars. The planet seemed to shift 
around us, as though it were alive in ways we didn't yet comprehend.
      I closed my eyes, the weight of the day pressing down on me. Tomorrow we would 
explore those buildings, but something told me that whatever we found there would be more 
than just stone walls and relics. The air had a tension to it, a feeling that something—whether 
good or bad—was waiting for us in the ruins. And as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't shake 
the sensation that we were standing on the edge of a discovery that would change everything.

Chapter 6
      The sun cast long shadows across the ancient ruins as Dave wiped sweat from his 
brow. He surveyed their makeshift camp—a patchwork of repurposed buildings and cobbled-
together tools. Nearby, Clive hummed contentedly as he ground nuts into flour, seemingly 
oblivious to the precariousness of their situation. To him, this place was his kingdom.
      Dave sighed, the weight of their isolation pressing down on him. "Clive," he called 
out, his voice tired, "don't you ever worry about what might happen if one of us gets seriously 
ill?"
      Clive looked up, blinking as though Dave's question didn't register. "Why worry? 
We've managed so far, haven't we? Besides," he added with a grin, "I've got more important 
things to consider as President of Problem Planet."
      Before Dave could respond, Rosemary emerged from the ruins, her arms full of 
artifacts, her expression a mixture of excitement and something darker. She set the artifacts 
down carefully, brushing dust from her hands.
      "You won't believe what I found today," she said, her voice low but electric with 
curiosity. "There's more to this civilization than we thought—complex social structures, 
advanced technology... and then, suddenly, nothing."
      Dave leaned in, intrigued despite his frustration. "What do you think happened to 
them?"
      Rosemary's expression grew somber, her excitement fading. "It's hard to say for 
certain. But I think they became too isolated. Their technology stagnated, their population 
dwindled. In the end, they couldn't sustain themselves."
      A chill ran down Dave's spine. The parallels to their own situation were impossible to 
ignore. He glanced at Clive, who had stopped grinding nuts, his hands trembling slightly as 
he absorbed Rosemary's words.
      "Well, that's them," Clive said, his voice wavering. "We're different. We've got 
everything we need right here." But doubt flickered in his eyes, betraying his forced bravado.
      Rosemary and Dave exchanged a glance. Dave could feel the weight of unspoken 
words hanging between them. Finally, Rosemary took a deep breath, her voice softer now. 
"Actually, there's something I need to tell you both. Something I've been holding onto for too 
long."
      Dave straightened, sensing the gravity in her tone. "What is it?"
      She hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning the alien landscape before landing on 
Clive and Dave. "We... we have a way off this planet. My father's spaceship. It's still here. It 
should be operational."
      The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. Dave stared at her, his mind 
struggling to process the revelation.
      "A spaceship?" he repeated, his voice sharp. "You've had a spaceship this whole time, 
and you didn't tell us?"
      Rosemary flinched at his tone but didn't back down. "I know I should have told you 
earlier," she said, her voice firm but pained. "But this planet... it's been my home for so long. 
Leaving was never an option for me. Until now."
      Dave shook his head, trying to contain the frustration rising in his chest. "Rosemary, 
we could've left! All this time, and we could've gone back to civilization!"
      Clive, his face pale, stepped forward. "Leave?" he whispered, his voice trembling. 
"But... but I'm the President here. I matter here." His eyes darted between Dave and 
Rosemary, panic rising in his chest. "I can't go back to being a nobody. I can't!"
      Dave's voice softened, edged with concern. "Clive, we're one bad harvest away from 
starvation. One injury away from... who knows what. We don't have the resources to make 
this work forever. We need to go back, where we can get real help."
      Clive's face contorted, a storm of emotions playing across his features. For a moment, 
vulnerability shone in his eyes—fear, uncertainty, the weight of responsibility he'd placed on 
himself. But then, like a switch flipped, his expression hardened. "No," he growled, fists 
clenching. "I won't let you take this away from me. I won't go back to being invisible!"
      Before Dave could react, Clive lunged forward, his fist connecting with Dave's jaw. 
Pain exploded across Dave's face, the taste of copper flooding his mouth. Caught off guard, 
he stumbled backward, his legs tangling in the remnants of their campfire.
      As Dave fell, he felt a sharp twinge in his back—an old injury from the crash flaring 
to life. He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs. Clive was on 
him in an instant, eyes wild with fear and anger.
      "I won't go back!" Clive shouted, raining down blows. "I won't be nothing again!"
      Dave raised his arms to protect his face, feeling the sting of each impact. His back 
screamed in protest as he tried to roll away, but Clive's weight pinned him down. Through the 
haze of pain, Dave saw an opening and swung, his fist connecting with Clive's ribs.
      Clive wheezed, momentarily stunned, and Dave seized the opportunity. He shoved 
hard, ignoring the burning in his muscles, and managed to flip their positions. Now on top, 
Dave grabbed Clive's wrists, pinning them to the ground.
      "Stop!" Dave yelled, his voice hoarse. "This isn't solving anything!"
      Clive struggled beneath him, tears now mixing with the sweat and dirt on his face. 
"You don't understand," he sobbed, his fight draining away. "I can't go back to being 
invisible. I can't."
      Rosemary's voice cut through the chaos, steady and commanding. "Enough!" She 
stood over them, her expression a mixture of concern and disappointment. "This isn't who we 
are. This isn't what we've built here."
      Dave released Clive's wrists and rolled off him, every movement sending jolts of pain 
through his battered body. They both lay there, panting and bruised, the weight of their 
situation pressing down on them.
      Rosemary knelt between them, her voice softer now. "We've all changed here. We've 
all found parts of ourselves we didn't know existed. But we can't let fear drive us apart." She 
looked at Clive, her expression gentle. "Clive, your voice matters. It always has. But true 
leadership isn't about titles or control. It's about doing what's best for everyone."
      Clive sat up slowly, wiping his face. The fight had gone out of him, leaving behind a 
man looking lost and afraid. "I don't know how to be anything else anymore," he whispered.
      Dave pushed himself up, wincing. "We'll figure it out together," he said, offering 
Clive a hand. "That's what we've always done, right?"
      Clive hesitated, then took Dave's hand. As they helped each other to their feet, 
Rosemary stood, her gaze steady and determined.
      "I've made my decision," she said quietly, her voice carrying a finality that left no 
room for argument. "Tomorrow, I'm going to start preparing the ship for launch. You have 
until then to decide if you're coming with me."
      With that, she turned and walked away, her steps slow but purposeful, leaving Dave 
and Clive to grapple with the weight of her words and their own actions. As the sun dipped 
below the horizon, casting the ruins in shadow, the future had never felt more uncertain—or 
more full of possibility.
     

Chapter 7
      As they gathered their belongings and the artifacts they wanted to bring back with 
them, Dave found himself standing alone, gazing at the alien landscape one last time. The 
ruins, the strange plants, the unfamiliar constellations in the sky—all of it had become a part 
of him in ways he never expected.
      He thought about how this planet had stripped away their pretenses, forcing them to 
confront their true selves. Dave realized he'd discovered a strength within himself he never 
knew existed—a capacity for leadership that didn't rely on titles or authority, but on empathy 
and practicality.
      Rosemary approached, a small smile on her face. "Ready to go?" she asked softly.
      Dave nodded, turning to her. "You know," he said, his voice thoughtful, "I came here 
thinking I was just a pilot. But this place... it's shown me I'm capable of so much more. We 
all are."
      Rosemary's smile widened. "That's the real treasure we're taking with us," she agreed. 
"Not the artifacts or the gold, but the growth we've experienced."
      Meanwhile, Clive stood a short distance away, his gaze fixed on the ruined city. His 
internal struggle was evident on his face as he muttered to himself, barely audible.
      "President of an empty kingdom," he whispered, a bitter smile on his lips. "What a 
fool I've been."
      He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, there was a 
new resolve in his gaze. "But perhaps," he continued, his voice stronger now, "there's still 
time to be something more. Something better."
      As Clive joined them, Dave noticed a change in the man's demeanor. The arrogance 
was gone, replaced by a quiet humility that seemed foreign on him, yet somehow fitting.
      "I've been thinking," Clive said, his voice softer than Dave had ever heard it. "When 
we get back... I want to use my influence for something meaningful. Maybe... maybe we can 
set up a foundation to study what we've found here. To learn from it, not just exploit it."
      Dave and Rosemary exchanged surprised glances. "That's... actually a great idea, 
Clive," Dave said, genuine admiration in his voice.
      Rosemary nodded in agreement. "It would ensure our discoveries here aren't forgotten 
or misused."
      As they walked toward Rosemary's hidden ship, Dave felt a sense of completion. 
They were leaving this planet changed—not just by what they'd discovered, but by what 
they'd become.
      "You know," Dave said as they reached the ship, "when we crashed here, I thought it 
was the worst thing that could happen to us. But now... I think it might have been the best."
      Clive chuckled softly. "A happy accident, indeed."
      Rosemary smiled at both of them as she opened the ship's hatch. "Well, gentlemen, 
shall we go show the world what Problem Planet has taught us?"
      As they boarded the ship, Dave took one last look at the alien world that had become 
their temporary home. He felt a mix of excitement and nostalgia, knowing that while they 
were leaving this place behind, they were carrying its most important lessons within them.
      The ship's engines hummed to life, and as they lifted off, Dave realized that their real 
journey—the one that would test everything they'd learned—was only just beginning. But 
this time, they were ready for it, together.