Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

I bend over Raven One’s scorched torso, careful not to brush the half-burned plating that still smells like singed metal. Even two days after the meltdown fiasco, the scent lingers.

Sparks kneels on the opposite side of the mech’s chassis, her eyes narrowed as she inspects the twisted wiring. Patch stands behind us with an old spool of salvage cable draped around his shoulders, humming a raspy tune to fill the quiet. It’s a fragile, tense hush among us. We’re all waiting, braced for the next sign of trouble.

I swallow hard, remembering the wild crackle of electricity when the reactor surged. The memory makes my palms sweat. The meltdown left a lasting mark in every corner of this hangar. Singed metal, dark scorch lines creeping up the walls, and smudged sorrow on my own fingertips.

Sparks lifts her head, notices me flexing my hands, and executes a faint, encouraging nod. I force my grip to loosen around a power coupler I’ve been holding too hard.

Tabitha purrs through my earpiece. “You’re not alone, you know. Those micro-stress fractures you found, the ones near the lower plating, are almost sealed. You, on the other hand, are what I’d call a high-stakes meltdown waiting to happen.”

Her teasing remark almost makes me smile. “Thanks, T,” I mutter, slowly exhaling tension. “I keep hearing that crackle in my sleep.”

“Good thing I’m here to keep you from turning the hangar into fireworks again.” Her voice slides from playful to earnest. “Girlfriend-slash-AI. I multitask.”

Oblivious to Tabitha’s private chatter, Patch fiddles with the spool around his neck. “Heads up,” he barks, tossing the lead end toward Sparks. She snatches it from the air with fluid grace.

Sparks might not say much, but everything she does is measured and precise. She’s been that way since I brought her on board. Sweat glistens along her collarbone, her dark hair pulled back in a half-braided tail. She’s as focused as I’ve ever seen her.

“All right.” Sparks flicks her gaze to me. “We’ve replaced the shorted relays, hammered out the warp near the reactor casing, and re-soldered the crisped servo link. We’re sure about the thruster lines?” Her tone is flat, but anxiety hides under it. That meltdown nearly fried both of us for good.

I nod and stoop to thread the cable from Patch’s spool into an exposed channel beneath Raven One’s midsection. “We tested them with that battery rig last night. The lines aren’t pretty, but the data readouts looked stable.”

She grunts. “Stable is good. Ugly sometimes means real. I’ll take ugly if we can avoid another meltdown.”

“And blowing half the hangar to shreds,” Patch pipes in, scratching the stubble on his jaw. “I’m too old to keep outrunning your next big experiment, kid.”

I snort a laugh, though tension clamps my chest. He’s only half joking. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Patch.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “All I’m saying is, let’s keep the sparks to a minimum, huh?” He nods to Sparks. “No pun intended.”

Sparks exhales with a tiny, crooked grin. Relief dances at the corners of her eyes. The spark of camaraderie heats something behind my ribs, the slightest relief from the gnawing stress. Then, my gaze flits to the carbon scoring along Raven One’s spine, and I can’t help tensing up again.

I’m not letting the near-disaster define me.

Tabitha’s voice seeps back. “David, breathe. Your respiratory rate is up fifteen percent from baseline.”

“I am breathing,” I mutter.

“Not enough to fool me,” she returns, deadpan. “Look, if you keep holding your breath whenever you glance at that scorch on the plating, you’ll pass out.”

Patch coughs, giving me an inquisitive glance. He can probably tell from my expression that Tabitha’s scolding me again. I push off Raven One’s side and straighten, rolling my shoulders. “Sparks, how’s that twisted cable?”

She taps the newly installed line. “Secured. Let’s see if the servo array recognizes it.” She clicks her handheld scanner. An array of diagnostic lights flickers across the mech’s side. After a beat, the readout pings green, then yellow. No red. Sparks murmurs, “Looks like it’s reading voltage within normal thresholds.”

I muster a grin. “We’ll re-check it after we fuse the new plating. Let’s keep at it.”

The hours pass in near silence. Patch hauls scrap metal and tattered panels from the wreckage so we can salvage anything remotely useful. Sparks and I move from joint to joint, unspooling new cable and cross-checking each servo’s function. Tabitha occasionally hums to alert us of a flagged anomaly or half-scorched circuit. Whenever I hear the hiss of the welding torch, my shoulders bunch up.

Stay calm, Wayne. Keep going.

Eventually, Sparks stands from a crouch near Raven One’s ankles. She tosses her gloves onto a splintery stool and exhales slowly. “Hell of a day,” she murmurs.

I nod, wincing as my spine protests. “We can call it here if you want. We’ve been at this for two days straight. I wouldn’t blame you for grabbing some shuteye.”

She frowns at the mech’s half-finished wiring harness. “Almost done with this harness. Let me…” She kneels with a grunt, re-checking the tension on the freshly attached cables. My chest tightens at the sight of her exhaustion, dark smudges under her eyes, sweat dampening her collar. This meltdown left a mark on all of us.

“You okay?” I ask.

Her gaze flicks to me, and conflicting emotions swirl there. Finally, she nods. “Sure.” Then she hesitates. “Are you still worried it’ll happen again? Another meltdown?”

Tension churns in my gut, and I laugh hollowly. “Terrified,” I admit. “But if we stop now, we’ll never push Raven One forward. We’ll always be close to failing. That can’t be how we live.”

Her brown eyes soften. “We might not survive the next meltdown, David.”

I breathe out. “I can’t let fear paralyze me. Us. Look at what we’ve done. If we hold back because we’re scared…”

“Yeah.” She nods, grimly resolute. Then, she adds, “I respect that.”

Maybe, in the low light, I see a flicker of something else. Empathy, acceptance. Or is it a hint of admiration? She quickly looks back at the harness, clearing her throat.

“Thanks for sticking around,” I mutter.

She shrugs but doesn’t look away from her work. “Wouldn’t leave you now, Wayne. Not when we’re this close.”

As I swallow a fresh wave of gratitude, Tabitha intrudes. “You two might be the cutest self-destructive pair I’ve ever seen. Could you maybe finish hooking up the last coupling before you share a moment?”

I roll my eyes at Tabitha’s commentary but don’t reply out loud. She’s the queen of comedic timing and a master at spoiling intimate moments. I return to hooking the harness’ final clamp while Sparks finesses another wire. A hush settles, broken only by the faint hum of overhead lights. Patch rummages in the background, stacking metal scraps, occasionally muttering curses about the meltdown damage.

When the last clamp clicks into place, Sparks touches the console from her portable kit. The harness cycles to life with a muted whirr. I can almost feel Raven One’s systems stirring from slumber.

We’re so close.

“Tabitha, run a quick scan,” I request.

“Scan initiated,” she replies, and text readouts ghost across my visor. “No voltage spikes. No meltdown, at least for the next five seconds. Good job, boss.”

“Your sarcasm keeps me going, T,” I shoot back.

She hums. “Anytime.”

Patch trudges over, dusting off his hands. “All the major stuff is stowed. I can’t find a use for some of that scorched hull. We got enough plating for the mech anyway?”

Sparks nods. “I welded half of it in place. Should hold, though I’d prefer an exact match.”

Patch slaps the side of Raven One’s banged-up hull with gentle affection. “Close enough, though. This old bird’s proven it can handle a little mismatch.”

We finish prepping the final plates, sparks from our torches fizzling in tiny arcs. The hiss makes my pulse jump, but I grit my teeth and power through. Tabitha hums in my ear as if to say, I see you struggling. It’s enough to keep me going.

When we finally step back to admire our work, it’s well past midnight. My entire body aches and there’s a dull pulsing in my wrists from hours of twisting wires, crimping leads, and holding heavy plating. Even Sparks looks ready to collapse. She leans on a metal workbench, the muscles in her arms defined in the sharp industrial glow.

My gaze lingers a beat longer than I intend, noting the flecks of sweat on her skin. I snap my attention back to Raven One, heat creeping across my face.

Focus, David.

Patch exhales loudly. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He tilts his head at the mech. “Shall we try to stand it up?”

Sparks glances at me, and I can almost taste the tension swirling around us. I set my jaw, stepping to the main console. “Let’s do it.”

“Careful,” Tabitha urges. “If we see any spikes, I’m shutting it down.”

I draw a deep breath, my heart throbbing in my throat. The console flickers as I feed minimal power into Raven One’s systems, bypassing the cracked power routes with our new harness. The mech’s servo motors flutter, then whir with a low, deliberate hum. Its left arm shifts slowly but surely. A metallic groan echoes in the hangar. Then, like a soldier rising from the battlefield, Raven One straightens, servo joints locking into place.

My breath catches. Sparks’ eyes widen. Patch whoops in delight, hooking an arm around my shoulder in a quick, tight hug. “We did it, kid. You see that?”

I can’t tear my eyes from the mech. The reattached plating glints dully under the sputtering lights, but it’s upright. Alive. We pulled it back from the edge. Fierce relief stings the corners of my eyes.

Sparks half-collapses against the workbench with a breathy laugh. Her shoulders sag with an overwhelming sense of victory. She looks ready to pass out, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. “Holy hell, I can’t believe it’s standing.”

Tabitha speaks in my ear with pride and relief. “Readings are good. No meltdown. Congratulations, genius.”

My chest feels light. For an instant, the meltdown’s ghost fades into the background. I place a hand on the mech’s chassis. “Raven One, you’re back,” I whisper.

Patch rummages in the old minifridge in the hangar’s corner. The ancient thing shudders under his grip. He yanks it open and pulls out a half-dozen protein shakes, some well past their prime, and a dusty bottle of synthetic whiskey. “Looks like we have a pathetic excuse for a toast,” he announces, brandishing the whiskey with a crooked grin.

I snort, releasing tension in a quiet laugh. “Good enough for me.”

Sparks staggers over, crossing her arms as if to keep herself upright. Patch passes out protein cans, then tips the whiskey bottle to fill the lids with an unappealing brownish liquid. The smell is vaguely sweet and chemical-laced, but it’s what we have. Sparks lifts her improvised shot with a wry, tired smirk. A hint of color flushes her cheeks from the combined heat and exhaustion.

“To near ruin, and to the skill that rose from it,” Patch declares. “Or something equally poetic.”

Sparks snorts. “Close enough.”

We clink plastic and metal in a halfhearted toast, the makeshift shot trembling in my grip. One quick swallow and the synthetic whiskey burns my throat, leaving bitterness behind. Yet the wave of triumph, of relief, is worth every pungent gulp. Raven One stands tall, looking less like a hazard and more like a true mech reborn.

We talk about next steps, like a trial run in some deserted canyon or industrial zone, far from the Federation’s prying eyes. Sparks mentions scoping out a mining crater on the outskirts of Valis, rumored to be abandoned. Patch suggests a half-collapsed drydock he knows.

I weigh our options, but a wave of fatigue sets in so heavy it’s a miracle I’m still upright. Tabitha urges from my earpiece,“Take a break. You’re going to keel over.”Still, I can’t tear myself away from the sweet sight of Raven One upright, stable, and humming with possibility.

Eventually, Patch announces he’s heading out for the night, muttering about his salvage yard needing him. He tosses me a thumbs-up, then disappears through the hangar’s side door. Sparks lingers a moment longer. She looks at the half-finished beverage in her hand, grimaces, and sets it aside.

Our eyes meet in a flicker of mutual acknowledgment. This time, I sense warmth in her gaze that I can’t quite define, unspoken gratitude for pushing through the fear. My heart stutters like I’m missing a step. She clears her throat. “Guess I’ll crash, too. No sense in sleeping on my feet.”

I nod, my voice scratchy with exhaustion. “Right. Sleep. Good plan.”

Her slight, tired grin crinkles the corners of her eyes. “Good job today, Wayne.” With that, she slips out the door toward our sleeping quarters. I stare after her, shoulders sagging.

Tabitha hums. “So. Not entirely worthless, right?”

“She’s not,” I reply, too drained to summon sarcasm. I push a shaky breath through my lips. “We did it, T.”

“We sure did,” she murmurs, pride edging her tone.

I slump onto a crate, the adrenaline still fizzing through my veins, not letting me rest. The overhead light dims, leaving me under a single flickering light. My hands are filthy with grease and carbon residue, and my neck and shoulders ache. Yet triumph thrums in my chest. Raven One is alive again.

After a few minutes, I fish a small radio from my tool bag. The device picks up rogue signals from local stations if I calibrate it right. Sometimes, it helps me zone out after intense days. I fiddle with the knob, static blasting in my ears. Tabitha mumbles something about how outdated radio waves are, but I ignore her. The static clears enough to catch bits of a piping voice.

“Princess Evanglina Tessas, from Avalon Prime, asking for donations to the Thera Nexus relief program. Yes, yes, my swimsuit pictures are one hundred percent accurate.”

I freeze, brow furrowing. “What the…”

The voice shifts to a news anchor’s hearty laugh. “Princess, the public is shocked. Are you sure you’re all right with these images circulating for charity?”

Her regal yet playful voice responds, “Of course. The money goes to a good cause, and if a bit of fun in a one-piece helps, I’m happy to do it!”

There’s a flurry of applause. I blink at the radio, thinking I’m delirious from exhaustion. The next snippet is a quick mention of coordinates to donate. Then, some kind of promo jingle crackles through the static. My eyebrows climb my forehead.

A princess in a swimsuit, raising money for relief efforts?

I grin. “That’s…something.” An idea fueled by fatigue and pure male curiosity flickers in my mind. I could use a laugh or at least a distraction from meltdown nightmares. “Hey, T,” I call, half-joking. “If I recall, every good mechanic’s supposed to have a girlie picture in the shop, right?”

She snorts. “You sound like you’re from a half-century ago. But sure, if you’re into monarchy-themed pinups, keep talking.”

I rummage in my handheld’s scrambled network. The signals from Avalon Prime can be tricky to hack, but Tabitha helps me grab an unguarded resource site with cached images. There she is. Princess Evanglina Tessas in a sleek one-piece bathing suit, striking a pose that’s more playful than scandalous. I release a low whistle. She’s all long legs and confident grin.

I don’t even normally care about monarchy stuff, but after two days of raw stress, my brain seizes on anything to lighten the mood.

Tabitha huffs in mock exasperation. “Oh, that’s how you relax, huh?”

“Come on. It’s tradition,” I counter, scrolling away. Apparently, the princess is already viral.

“Sure,” Tabitha retorts, “Maybe pick something that doesn’t scream you’re living in a greasy cliché, though?”

I grin, half-delirious. “I’ll print it out. Slap it on the hangar wall. Could be our good-luck charm against the next meltdown.”

“You’re impossible.” Then, she softens. “Go to sleep, David. Really.”

My eyelids droop. The adrenaline is winding down, leaving my body hollow. I stare at the smiling princess on the screen, then chuckle. “All right, T.” I tuck the device away. “Tomorrow, we figure out the best test site for Raven One. And maybe I’ll find a half-working printer.”

She laughs, no doubt rolling her digital eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

I stand and stretch, feeling every muscle protest. I approach the small cot in the corner of the hangar, stepping past Raven One’s shadow. My mech stands like a loyal sentinel, the single lamp painting it in a subdued glow. My heart picks up a steadier beat. This is no longer a meltdown site. It’s a place where we overcame fear and hammered out a second chance.

I sink onto the cot, the scratchy blanket reminding me I need a shower, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Tabitha’s voice flutters through my earpiece. “Night, soldier boy.”

“Night,” I manage. My eyelids droop, lulled by the rhythmic hum of the hangar’s generator. As I drift, I imagine the princess’ picture pinned on a metal panel, a silly relic of normalcy in this world of salvage, risk, and rebellion.

Then again, maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up and realize how absurd it is. Either way, a smirk tugs at my lips. We survived the meltdown, repaired Raven One, and are still standing. That’s enough reason to celebrate.

Tiredness washes over me, and I mumble, “Thanks for saving me, T.”

Her answer draws me under. “Anytime, David. Now sleep.”

And so I do.

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