The birth of a Titan

[Soban]

Livadia, Dry-dock C, Assembly Observation Room

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With most of Phoenix’s Nephilim warships deployed to the front, Livadia had fallen into an unusual calm. An eerie stillness hung in the drydock, its cavernous spaces now echoing with only the sounds of auxiliary work. Most operations had shifted to the smaller docks, reserved for less warlike production. The once vibrant heart of Zoner shipbuilding now felt like a temple at dusk—reverent, quiet, waiting.

Donagan stood hunched over a terminal, trying to find a place for Flintlocke’s request in an already overburdened schedule. As the war dragged on, some of the Nephilim would inevitably come crashing back in pieces. The timing of this request couldn’t have been worse. Still, the Livadians were determined to honor it. Phoenix, after all, didn’t claim Livadia exclusively for themselves. Fortunately, Kadesh had recently been outfitted with a wide array of modular drydocks and could absorb the overflow in case of emergency.

He paused to gaze at a projection of the Persephone. The progenitor of all Zoner capital ship technology. A vessel of immense power and enigmatic origin, still not fully understood. From its core had come the Jinkusu, and as more secrets were unlocked, the Nephilim followed. These titans were never mass-produced, each was singular in purpose, unique in design, painstakingly constructed, and highly specialized.

Donagan hovered a hand over the display, switching the projection to a schematic of the Nephilim’s core structure. As he keyed in Flintlocke’s preliminary specifications, the hologram flickered, internal systems shifting and reconfiguring as the design algorithms finalized their assumptions. When it settled, the cost estimate blinked into view—millions of credits, as expected. But cost wasn’t the only concern; gathering the required materials would be the true challenge. Donagan could only hope Flintlocke had connections and a capable trade fleet; because Phoenix’s own supply lines were already stretched to the breaking point.

After several recalculations and system checks, Donagan felt he finally had a solid grasp of the task at hand. He opened a comms channel to Flintlocke.

“Greetin’s once more, Mr. Flintlocke.

I’ve spoken wi’ the Livadians—they’ve agreed tae lay down a new colony ship for ye, alongside us. I’ll be waitin’ for ye at Livadia. Come prepared; there’s plenty we’ll need tae discuss.

Safe travels through Kappa, and may the stars guide yer way.”

The channel hummed quietly as the message was transmitted. Donagan stood, tucked his datapad under one arm, and lit his well-worn pipe. All that planning had made him thirsty.

He set off toward the bar, smoke trailing behind him like a lazy comet tail.

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