Christian looked at the panoramic display in Hyperion's bridge. Visually, he could finally see the result of his efforts. After several years of hard work, Vega was finally at Livadia Shipyard. "Christian, we just came out of hyperspace, and in about two hours we'll be ready to dock at Livadia. Right now, all the mooring points are taken," the navigator reported. Christian nodded; it was not his habit to keep his friends waiting. "Prepare the shuttle, its time to settle the further steps to finalise Lyra Defensive Wing." He rose from the captain's chair and headed for the launch pad, walking as if on autopilot, lost in thought.
We were faced with the question of further reconstruction of the ship, given the specifics of its various systems - it would be a non-trivial task. In addition to the factory solutions, the ship already had multiple modifications made by the Gas Miners Guild, as well as our own since the previous restoration. But the stumbling block was the restoration of the armor. Finally, reaching the shuttle, he jumped inside with virtuosity, and the shuttle smoothly moved off and flew out of the Hyperion airlock, immediately heading for Livadia.
Upon arriving in Livadia, Christian headed to the station bar, where they had agreed to meet with Daniel and James. Although a more formal location would have been more appropriate for the meeting, Christian preferred to discuss even important decisions with his friends in a relaxed atmosphere - especially though it seemed like an eternity since they had last met like this.
He finally reached the bar, which, like any Phoenix room, was minimalist, as life in Omicrons makes its own adjustments - no frills. Relaxed lounge music played in the background, the room was dimly lit, and there were almost no visitors - not surprising, since it was only noon. Vega was visible through the panoramic window on Livadia’s slipways, which added a touch of surrealism for bar guests as they were surprised to see the vessel and talked loudly about that - Phoenix until recent times have kept the project on the low profile. Christian sat down in a comfortable chair next to a table in the corner, from which he had the best view of the ship. As if in a hurry, a livadian waiter rushed over to him with the question, “What will you be ordering, Mr. Burton?”
Mac Donagan was alerted to Burton’s arrival by a strident beep in his office. With visible reluctance, he folded the schematics he’d been labouring over—Och, how he hated bein’ dragged from a project mid-flow. It had been some time since he’d set foot on Livadia, and, as ever, he’d landed right in the thick of work.
He snatched up his datapad, re-lit his pipe, and left the shambles that was his office. Soon enough he’d clear some space, once the Vega Project files were shipped off to the archives in Corinth. Striding down the corridor toward the bar, he left a thin ribbon of smoke in his wake.
“Why is it always the same with him? He can’t waerk sober!”
Fuming nearly as much as his pipe, he pushed through the bar doors. Bracing for a long meeting, he ordered a Scotch on instinct before turning to greet Christian.
“Hell’s bells, Christian—long time nae see. Surprised ye managed tae find yer way tae this wreck,” he said, jabbing a thumb toward the Vega.
Christian smiled sincerely at Mac Donagan's question. Outwardly, Mac Donagan resembled a constantly grumbling old man who was always trying to offend someone, like a pensioner who wasn't getting his full pension - but Christian had long been accustomed to working with him and understood between the lines that he had interrupted him in the middle of his work. Because in life, he loved two things: work and alcohol. "I'm glad you're in a good mood as always and ready to give it your all," Christian said, glancing at the alcohol. "We have a long conversation ahead of us, so we might as well combine business with pleasure. It's been a hell of a long time since we last saw each other," Christian said, ordering a pint of Rheinbier with toasts at the table console. "James should be here soon, the captain of that wreck you just spotted." he finished, nodding slightly toward Vega.
"The clouds are gathering above us, and we need to act preemptively. In addition to the Nomads, some groups of Corsairs have now decided that our interests need to be challenged. With Vega back in action, we'll show them where they belong." Finally, Christian's order arrived. He eagerly took a big gulp of beer and bit into a piece of toast. "Wow, it looks like paradise here. I've forgotten what normal food tastes like for a year now. Hyperion has been on duty near Kadesh for a year now, and there's nothing there but junk food known as Synth Paste. We'll have to look into that, to improve the quality of life there…" Christian said, distracted. "Anyway, I called you here to discuss the restoration of Vega. James should be here any minute," he continued, glancing at his watch. He stretched slightly and pushed a plate of toasts toward Donagan. "Take one. You look like a skeleton. When was the last time you were in the gym, or even on a planet with gravity, or tried anything other than tobacco and alcohol? You look terrible, like you're about to die." Or do you believe that alcohol alone will help you gain weight?" Christian said with a friendly grin.
“Yeah, I can see what Synth Paste has done tae yer waistline. It’s a wonder ye managed tae waddle through the bar door.”
He glanced toward the entrance and flicked his chin in its direction. “Or did ye have ’em widen it specially for yer grand arrival? Ye look like a beached Whale sprawled there at the counter. An’ by the stars—look at ye, gobblin’ that toast like a fat Bretonian bairn in a sweetie shop.”
He sighed as Burton inhaled the last of the toast as if his life depended on it. “Anyway. I suppose we’re no’ here tae trade verbal jabs—ye always lose at that, an’ like the sore loser ye are, last time ye shipped me here tae administer this station.”
He knocked back his Scotch in a single pull, then asked: “Och, d’ye want tae hold this meetin’ here—or shall we find a place a touch more suitable?”
He smirked sarcastically, "As always, you're the king of corny jokes. No one can match you in that department." One of the important aspects of synth foods is balanced nutrition. "While you were sitting here on your ass, we were repairing Hyperion in Palmyra's orbit. The trip to the gym is on hold." He looked critically at Mac Donagan’s emaciated body and took another sip of beer. "However, if the miser has nothing else to talk about except work, let's get started."
Christian settled in comfortably and was about to continue, "Since... Oh, James! Please, have a seat. Make yourself at home, we've decided to combine business with pleasure." Christian nodded toward Mac Donagan. "I assume you've already gotten to know each other well." James nodded slightly and literally fell into his chair. "I'm sorry, I just got back from demolition work, and all I have the strength for right now is a beer," said James, looking greedily at Christian's glass. He quickly ordered a beer with jerky from the console menu on the table. "You won't have to work anymore today, so enjoy yourself," replied Christian.
He agreed to Mac Donagan. "We've already exchanged pleasantries, and I'd like to get down to business," he continued, to which James nodded silently, popping a jelly bean into his mouth. "All ears," Christian continued. "I assume you already have the reports on Vega's condition on your desks." He looked his companions in the eye, more out of tact than expecting an answer, and continued, "I understand that nothing is impossible, but I also need to understand our resources." He turned to James. "Theoretically, how long will it take us to repair it? Six months, a year, two years?" he asked James.
James scratched the back of his head, thinking, as the question puzzled him greatly. "We're only at the beginning of the journey. Forget about the reactor, it's not even half a job - we'll need two years at best, excluding all force majeure." His beer was finally served, and he took a sip and continued, "You yourself know how messy the systems inside Vega are. The original ship designs, the Gas Miners legacy onboard and only then as the cherry on top, ours, from the last reconstruction." He paused and took a deep sip, as if stalling for time. "We still need to do a detailed analysis of what has been destroyed systemically. It might be faster and easier to build a Nephilim," he finished, as if delaying the final phrase he wanted to say first.
Christian nodded, but rejected the last argument. "Simpler, but not more effective nor cheaper. Vega, like Hyperion, was designed for combat, while the Nephilim-class ship is a compromise between the ideologies of suitability for life as a homeship and a warship - we'll need to rebuild it anyway." He glimpsed toward Mac Donagan. "I've already heard your general opinion. What do you say about the armor and external devices? How long will the conversion take?" Christian finished, eagerly stuffing a piece of toast into his mouth and gulping down half a glass of Rheinbier.
Donagan shook his head in disbelief as Burton inhaled yet another toast.
“A sight more time than it’ll take ye tae empty Livadia’s larder o’ toast, I’ll tell ye that. I’ve read the latest technical reports, and add tae that the bodges my team slapped on at Carthage just to make her spaceworthy. It’s grim. Years, I’d reckon. Two at minimum. It’s near as ye said: like buildin’ a new ship from scratch, plus a puzzle on the side.”
He paused, sifting through the mountain of work already done. Much of it was solid but temporary—functional, aye, but nowhere near fit for a true capital vessel. A wry smile tugged at his mouth as he wondered if the current bridge could bear Burton’s newly acquired girth.
“First thing, we’ll have tae undo our own fixes an’ install proper solutions. The ship’s closer tae a Frankenstein than a thoroughbred. Even the Junkers would struggle tae call this patchwork a vessel. We kept her flyin’ by graftin’ techniques and systems from ships o’ different classes an’ roles.”
He glanced toward the Vega: most of the exterior was slathered in sealant gel to plug breaches and keep her airtight, while the massive Nephilim comms array bulged from the superstructure like a malignant growth beside the bridge.
“As for the skin, hard tae say if our standard Zoner armour will do. We’re used tae graceful curves, no’ Rheinland’s blocky slabwork. External systems should be less o’ a headache—barring that comms tumour—unless ye’re after fancy armaments?”
Christian nodded thoughtfully, looking at Donagan. Behind him, he could see the clear outline of Vega and multiple flashes all along the hull - the workers had just begun to secure the scaffolding. In any case, it was necessary for the complete reconstruction or disposal of the ship. Vega looked menacing - a reminder of the consequences of living on the edge of human reaches. With scorched scars everywhere, from simple superficial ones to deep internal. Some decks had suffered more than others, and some had previously been pierced through. Among the classic Rheinland, flashes of greenish armor were visible, interspersed with gray-white plugs. Multiple holes had already been hastily patched up in Carthage. Truly titanic work lay ahead.
He nodded slightly, agreeing with Donagan and James' arguments. "That's why I called you to this meeting," he said, looking calmly but determinedly at his companions. "We need to find a way to get her back into service, as if we had to get her back into service yesterday." He leaned slightly over the table and made a few movements above it, and a dim turquoise hologram of the ship appeared above the table. Christian glanced at it, quickly scanned the report, and continued. "Our original reports of armor damage based on visual inspection were, unfortunately, accurate to the last hundredth. To return her to service according to all our standards, we need to replace all the armor." He glanced at James, gauging his reaction, but decided to remain silent, as Christian's assertiveness was beginning to annoy him. Without showing it, he took a sip of beer, and Christian continued.
"I figured we'd have a problem fitting armor from the Nephilim or any other ship - after all, according to the documentation we got from the Gas Miners Guild, they have a very specific method of attachment, dimensions, and, as Donagan already mentioned, geometric proportions." He sighed. "We have some industrial capacity, we also have access to supplies from the houses, as well as our own source of iridium and free space at Athens Station and Delta Mining Corp. - so the question is more for you, Donagan, if we buy all the equipment to recreate the armor and configure it according to the GMG drawings, how much will that speed things up?"
James thoughtfully twirled his beer glass, then took a sip and beat Mac Donagan to the answer. "Let's make the armor even better than Hyperion's - the ship is more about the equipment and software inside. To restore it as a combat ship, not a Starflier that needs routine maintenance and repairs almost every day." They exchanged glances with Mac Donagan, and James continued, laying out the situation as it was.
"Ideally, we need to remove all the avionics and subsystems and toss them toward the star of Omicron Kappa as useless junk," he picked up his glass and took a small sip, the chronic fatigue of the last few weeks gone and the hop slightly hitting his head. "And install new parts. But if you open the Gas Miners Guild blueprints, you'll see that it's very superficial, since they based it on the original working units." He shook his head. "It's all junk anyway, even if we manage to reverse engineer the signals and reprogram the new equipment - it will be extremely expensive and not stable to get this product up and running, especially considering the deadlines you mentioned." He popped a few more jerky pieces into his mouth, chewed slowly, and took another sip of beer, thinking about how to get out of this situation. "We can't handle such an ambitious project on our own." James squinted at Christian. "What about ALG? Can you unfold the truth about them - If they were kind enough to create a new reactor, could they help with the rest of the equipment?"
