Ironha woke to stillness that came from ancient stone. The rune-light along the ceiling had dimmed to its lowest setting, mimicking dawn.

  She sat up slowly, letting her body adjust.

  Yesterday's revelations lingered on her mind. Doc's world. His technology. The casual mention of crossing stars as if it were no more remarkable than crossing a river.

  Ships that sail between worlds.

  She'd spent half the night trying to reconcile what he'd shown them with what she thought she understood about the universe.

  Through the wonder and strangeness, one thought kept surfacing

  Doc had trusted them.

  And trust, once given, required care.

  Ironha dressed quickly, braiding her hair back. She passed through the corridor toward the communal area, where voices already drifted from the eating space.

  Edda sat with Mazoga near the forge chamber's entrance, speaking in low tones over bowls of porridge. Both looked up when Ironha approached.

  "Morning," Mazoga said, in her gruff voice.

  Ironha nodded, settling onto the bench beside them. "How's everyone?"

  Edda exhaled slowly. "Processing. Carl and Calen are probably still sleeping. Kesh is topside scouting. Dulric's somewhere near the Forgeheart."

  "And Doc?"

  Mazoga frowned slightly. "Haven't seen him yet."

  Ironha reached for a bowl, ladling porridge from the communal pot. The warmth felt grounding.

  "We should give him space," Edda said quietly. "He shared more than I think he intended. Questions can wait."

  Mazoga grunted agreement. "Man drops a truth like that, he's earned a day without being poked at."

  Ironha nodded, though concern still flickered in her chest.

  Doc had seemed lighter last night after their walk. But vulnerability didn't always fade with sleep. Sometimes it settled deeper once the adrenaline of confession wore off.

  She finished her meal in silence, listening to Edda and Mazoga discuss logistics for the northern trade expedition—supplies and diplomacy mostly. Practical concerns that anchored them.

  But Ironha's thoughts kept drifting back to Doc’s trust

  That trust deserved a reminder that nothing had changed between them

  She stood, brushing off her hands. "I'm going to check on him."

  Mazoga raised an eyebrow. "Didn't we just agree to give him space?"

  "Checking isn't interrogating," Ironha replied calmly. "I won't pry. Just want to make sure he's not sitting alone overthinking."

  Edda smiled faintly. "Fair enough."

  Ironha made her way through the corridors.

  She reached Doc's quarters and paused at the door.

  A moment's hesitation.

  Then she knocked gently. "Doc?"

  Silence.

  She frowned, knocked again. "It's Ironha."

  Still nothing.

  Her hand pressed the latch, easing the door open just enough to peer inside.

  The room was empty.

  His bedroll sat neatly rolled in the corner. His pack rested against the wall, methodically organized. The space was carefully tidied.

  Like he'd woken early and left before anyone else stirred.

  Ironha stepped back, letting the door close softly.

  Where are you?

  She turned back down the corridor, retracing her steps.

  Maybe he'd gone to the temple library. Or perhaps he was simply walking the halls, processing yesterday's weight in his own way.

  Still, she felt uneasy.

  Doc had finally opened himself to them.

  She just hoped he hadn't retreated back into isolation the moment morning came.

  Carl woke to the sound of Calen shifting on the bunk across from him. Morning had arrived—or what passed for morning in the colony's unchanging dim light.

  He sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes. His mind flooded with questions from yesterday.

  How do the ships stay intact during star travel? What powers the ships? Do they use cores or something else entirely?

  Calen was already pulling on his boots, moving efficiently.

  "Workshop first?" Carl asked.

  "Breakfast," Calen corrected. "Then workshop."

  Carl reluctantly agreed. His stomach was making demands he couldn't ignore.

  They made their way to the communal area, where the scent of porridge and something vaguely bread-like drifted through the air. Edda and Mazoga sat near the forge chamber entrance, speaking in low tones.

  Carl ladled himself a bowl and settled onto a bench beside Calen.

  Mazoga glanced over. "Morning."

  "Morning," Carl mumbled through a mouthful of porridge.

  Edda's expression softened slightly. "Give Doc some space today. Questions can wait."

  Carl's enthusiasm deflated a little. "I wasn't going to—"

  "You were," Mazoga interrupted, though her tone wasn't unkind. "And you'll get your chance. Just not first thing."

  Carl sighed, stirring his porridge. She was right, of course. He had been planning to find Doc the moment he finished eating.

  How does his suit actually work? Can they recreate his weapons with what they have? What about the shuttle's cloaking system?

  The questions buzzed like bees in his skull, demanding release.

  But Doc had trusted them yesterday. Opened himself up in a way Carl suspected didn't come naturally to him.

  The least Carl could do was give him a morning without being swarmed.

  "Understood," Carl said quietly.

  He finished his meal in silence, Calen doing the same beside him. When they stood to leave, Mazoga gave them a brief nod of approval.

  They walked through the corridor toward the workshop where the fabricator sat dormant. Carl's fingers itched to examine it again, now knowing exactly what it was—a device from another world that could build things layer by layer with precision beyond anything he'd seen.

  Halfway there, they encountered Ironha coming from the opposite direction.

  "Morning," she said, though her expression was faintly troubled.

  "Morning," Carl replied. "Everything okay?"

  "Doc wasn't in his room," Ironha said slowly. "I wanted to check on him after yesterday, but he's not there."

  Carl tilted his head thoughtfully. "He might be in the workshop. We’re heading there now."

  Ironha's expression brightened slightly. "Mind if I join you?"

  "Not at all."

  The three of them continued together, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone.

  As they neared the workshop, Carl heard it—a low, rhythmic hum coming from within. The fabricator's distinctive pulse.

  He glanced at Calen, who'd noticed it too.

  The door was slightly ajar, faint blue light spilling through the gap.

  Carl pushed it open.

  Inside, Doc stood near the workbench, a half-eaten bowl of porridge balanced beside him. The fabricator sat active on the table, its translucent dome glowing as hard-light patterns shifted within.

  Doc looked up, meeting their eyes.

  And smiled.

  "Morning," he said simply. "You're up early."

  Relief washed through Carl at that smile. Easy. Unguarded

  "Couldn't sleep," Carl admitted. "Too many questions."

  Doc's smile widened slightly. "I figured."

  "What are you making?" Calen asked, peering at the fabricator's glowing interior.

  "Something practical," Doc replied, gesturing toward the device. "Should be done soon."

  Ironha stepped inside, her expression softening. "You're alright?"

  Doc nodded. "I'm good. Just wanted to get an early start."

  Carl exchanged a glance with Calen.

  Doc wasn't hiding. Wasn't retreating.

  He was just... working.

  And somehow, that felt exactly right.

  Calen moved closer to the fabricator, watching the shifting patterns of light inside the dome. The device hummed steadily, building something layer by careful layer.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "What exactly are you making?" he asked.

  Doc gestured toward the workbench where his strange wrist-mounted device rested—the one he called an "omni tool." The black composite gleamed under the workshop's ambient light.

  "That's my MANTIS," Doc explained. "A field tool I brought from home. Can't replicate the full version here, but I can make single-use variants of some functions."

  Carl leaned in, adjusting his glasses. "Single-use?"

  "Right. The MANTIS integrates with my suit's power system and Lux's processing. It's modular—can swap between different tools depending on what I need. Welding, scanning, material analysis, magnetic manipulation." Doc paused. "Most scientists and field workers where I'm from have something similar. It's standard equipment."

  "And it connects to Lux?" Calen asked, trying to piece together how the device worked.

  “Through my neural interface, yes. The MANTIS reads what I need, and Lux—he’s an AI—processes the data so the tool adapts in real time.”

  A tool that thinks with you.

  Calen felt his Resonance Veins activate instinctively, tracing the energy patterns in Doc's wrist device. Complex. Far more intricate than anything he'd seen.

  "Wait," Calen said slowly. "What's an AI?"

  Doc paused mid-gesture, his expression shifting to something thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, considering.

  "That's... complicated to explain properly," Doc admitted. "But think of it this way—an AI is what Lux is. An artificial intelligence. A thinking machine built to process information, solve problems, and assist."

  "Good morning," Lux's calm voice echoed through the suit speakers.

  Fish, sprawled near the door, snorted softly.

  Ironha blinked. "Lux can hear us right now?"

  "Always," Doc said with a faint smile. "He's connected to everything I am."

  Carl's eyes widened behind his lenses. "So the MANTIS isn't just a tool. It's an extension of your... partnership with Lux."

  “Exactly,” Doc said. “Where I’m from, every piece of field equipment is built to integrate with its operator’s AI. The MANTIS, my suit, my weapons—they’re all designed to work through Lux’s systems.”

  Calen studied the fabricator again, watching the hard-light patterns shift and solidify. "And you're building a simpler version?"

  "Right." Doc gestured toward the glowing dome. "This one won't integrate with Lux or my suit, but it'll have one specific function—the field stabilizer module."

  He reached for the workbench, picking up one of the core batteries Calen and Carl had built together. The bronze casing gleamed faintly, the crystal inside pulsing with steady light.

  "I'm using your battery design as the power source," Doc continued. "It won't last forever, but it should hold long enough."

  Calen felt a flicker of pride. Our design. Powering something from his world.

  "How does the field stabilizer work?" Carl asked, leaning closer.

  "It generates a localized null-gravity field," Doc explained. "Counters weight and inertia within a small radius. One person can lift or hold heavy objects safely without straining."

  Ironha's brow furrowed. "That sounds... incredibly useful."

  "It is. Especially in disaster zones or construction sites."

  The fabricator's hum shifted pitch slightly, the glow intensifying as it entered the final phase.

  Calen watched, transfixed, as the light patterns began to coalesce into something solid. A wrist-mounted brace, sleeker than Doc's MANTIS but unmistakably similar in design.

  Bronze plating. Crystal inlays. Channels for energy flow.

  The fabricator's dome retracted with a soft hiss, revealing the completed device resting on the platform.

  Doc lifted it carefully, turning it over in his prosthetic hand. The bronze casing caught the light, and Calen could see where the core battery would slot into place.

  "Perfect," Doc murmured.

  Calen watched Doc turn the device over in his hands one more time before looking up.

  "Want to see how it works?" Doc asked, meeting Calen's eyes first, then Carl's.

  "Yes," Carl said immediately, already stepping forward.

  Doc chuckled lightly and handed the wrist brace to Carl. "Alright. Calen, can you find something heavy? Test load. Hundred pounds or so."

  Calen scanned the workshop and found a half stack of bronze ingots near the corner.

  Perfect.

  He crossed the room and lifted the top ingot—smooth, dense, heavier than it looked. His muscles strained as he carried it back.

  "This work?" Calen asked, setting it down on the workbench with a dull thud.

  Doc nodded. "That'll do."

  Carl fastened the brace around his wrist, adjusting the straps until it fit snugly. The core battery slotted into place with a soft click, and the channels along the bronze plating lit up—faint blue veins tracing the device's framework.

  "Alright," Doc said, stepping beside Carl. "See that switch on the underside? Flip it."

  Carl obeyed. The hum shifted—a resonance that Calen felt more than heard. The air around Carl's hand shimmered faintly, like heat distortion over stone.

  "Now lift the ingot," Doc instructed.

  Carl reached down with both hands, gripping the bronze block. He pulled.

  The ingot rose smoothly, as if it weighed no more than a sack of grain. Carl's eyes widened behind his glasses, his grip adjusting instinctively as the null-gravity field compensated for the weight.

  "It's... it's floating," Carl breathed.

  Calen watched the energy flow through the brace. His Resonance Veins traced the pathways—bright at first, then flickering.

  His brow furrowed.

  The battery wasn't designed for this kind of sustained draw. It was built for radios—low, steady output over long periods. But the field stabilizer pulled current in sharp bursts, overwhelming the regulation matrix. Energy bled off as heat, wasteful.

  "Carl," Calen said quietly. "Look at the crystal."

  Carl glanced down. The core fragment inside the battery glowed brighter than it should, faint wisps of light escaping through the seams.

  "It's bleeding energy," Carl murmured, his voice shifting into the tone he used when analyzing constructs. "The regulation matrix can't keep up with the draw. Too much resistance in the channels."

  Calen nodded. "The battery's optimized for low, consistent output. This thing needs bursts. Higher capacity, tighter control."

  Carl set the ingot down carefully, the field stabilizer's hum fading as he deactivated it. He looked at Doc, excitement still bright in his expression.

  "We'll build a better battery for this," Carl said. "Something with a wider channel lattice. Maybe dual-core stabilization."

  Calen met Carl's gaze and nodded. "I can map the tolerance thresholds. Find where the energy's bleeding off."

  Doc's smile widened slightly—approval, maybe pride. "I thought you might say that."

  Before Doc could move toward the fabricator again, Carl spoke up, still holding the wrist carefully.

  "What else can you make?" Carl asked. "You said the MANTIS has other functions."

  Doc paused, considering. Then he gestured toward the workbench.

  "Welder. Material scanner. Bio-scanner for medical work." He tapped the brace Carl held. "And every tool brace I build will have integrated radio capabilities. Short-range transceiver, built into the casing. No extra equipment needed."

  Calen blinked. Communication. Built in.

  Carl's grip tightened on the device, his mind clearly racing ahead.

  "So anyone wearing one of these could talk to each other," Carl said slowly. "Across the settlement. Or during expeditions."

  "Exactly," Doc said.

  Calen stared at the wrist brace, imagining a dozen people wearing them. Coordinated and connected.

  No more waiting for runners. No more guessing where everyone is.

  "We need better batteries," Calen said quietly.

  Carl nodded, already turning toward the workbench. "Let's get started."

  The workshop fell into a rhythm Doc knew well—minds working in quiet tandem.

  Carl examined the welder unit first, turning it over in his hands before activating the emitter. A thin beam of concentrated heat cut through a bronze scrap plate like it was wax. He adjusted the intensity dial, testing different settings while Calen watched the energy distribution through his class skills.

  "Lower output drains the battery slower," Calen observed. "But the regulation's still inefficient. Same problem."

  Carl nodded, already making mental notes.

  Calen claimed the material scanner next, running it over various workshop materials. The device hummed softly, displaying density readings through glowing markers along its surface. He paused over a copper wire coil, then a monster core fragment.

  "It's reading composition," Calen said, fascinated. "Not just density—actual structure."

  Doc leaned against the workbench, watching them work. Lux monitored the power draw from each device, compiling data.

  They're learning faster than expected, Lux noted. Carl's Cross-Construct Insight is accelerating his understanding of the energy distribution patterns. Calen's Resonance Veins provide real-time feedback on power flow efficiency.

  Good, Doc thought. Let them figure it out.

  Ironha had stayed through the tests, lingering near the doorway until curiosity won out. "Try this," he said, offering her the bio-scanner unit.

  She studied it carefully before strapping it on. Doc guided her through activation, and the device lit up—softer than the others, with a gentler pulse.

  Ironha held it over Carl's arm. Her eyes widened.

  "I can see... circulation," she murmured. "Like Vital Sense, but... more precise. Temperature variance. Energy density in the tissue."

  She moved it across Calen's shoulder, then Doc's hand. Each reading came through clear and structured.

  "This would change everything," Ironha said quietly.

  Doc nodded. "For diagnosis, yeah. It should."

  She stayed longer than he expected, testing the scanner on different surfaces, comparing its readings to her own Vital Sense. Occasionally she asked questions—about range, accuracy, limitations—and Doc answered each one plainly.

  By midday, Lux flagged the time.

  You have not eaten since dawn.

  Doc glanced at Carl and Calen, both hunched over battery schematics they'd sketched out on scrap parchment. Neither had moved in an hour.

  Ironha noticed his pause. "I'll get lunch," she offered.

  She returned twenty minutes later with Bran's stew, fresh bread, and mugs of something warm. They ate at the workbench, Carl barely looking up from his notes.

  "Dual-core," Carl was saying, gesturing with his spoon. "Two fragments in parallel, regulated through independent channels. One handles burst draw, the other maintains baseline."

  Calen frowned, chewing thoughtfully. "Stabilization lattice would need to be wider. Maybe triangular instead of linear."

  "Could work," Carl agreed.

  Doc ate quietly, letting them theorize. Ironha sat beside him, her bio-scanner still strapped to her wrist.

  "They're brilliant," she said softly.

  "They are," Doc agreed.

  The afternoon blurred into experimentation. Carl and Calen built prototype batteries—crude at first, then refined. Each iteration improved efficiency marginally. By the third attempt, the bleeding stopped.

  Calen tested it with the field stabilizer, lifting the bronze ingot again. This time the glow stayed steady, no flicker.

  Carl grinned. "That's it."

  Doc examined the battery. Clean work. Balanced draw. Stable.

  Functional, Lux confirmed. Efficiency improved by forty-three percent.

  Evening light filtered through the workshop's ventilation shaft by the time they stopped. Tools lay scattered across the bench. Five working tool braces sat in a row—field stabilizer, welder, material scanner, bio-scanner, and one Carl had modified with an experimental energy cutter.

  Doc leaned back, shoulders sore but satisfied.

  Carl slumped in his chair, glasses crooked. Calen wiped sweat from his forehead, circuit-scars glowing faintly from exertion.

  Ironha stood by the door, bio-scanner still on her wrist, notes in hand.

  "Good work," Doc said.

  Carl looked up, grinning tiredly. "We're not done yet."

  Doc smiled. "I know."

  Ironha watched Carl reach for another schematic, his hand already moving toward a fresh piece of parchment. Calen leaned forward, circuit-scars still glowing faintly from the day's work.

  "Alright," Ironha said firmly. "That's enough."

  Carl blinked up at her. "But we're—"

  "It's evening," Ironha interrupted. "And I'm certain others are worried. None of you have been seen since this morning."

  Doc glanced up at what she said. He looked genuinely surprised.

  Carl's face fell. "We didn't mean to—"

  "Don't worry," Ironha said gently. "I told them when I grabbed lunch. They know you're working."

  Calen relaxed slightly, though guilt crossed his face.

  Ironha continued before they could spiral into apologies. "Edda wants everyone up top tonight. The longhouse is finished, and she'd like to celebrate with a proper meal. Just the inner circle."

  That got their attention. Doc straightened, and Carl's eyes brightened despite his exhaustion.

  "A celebration sounds good," Doc said.

  Calen nodded, already gathering tools. Carl hesitated, then carefully collected the five working tool braces, wrapping each one in cloth.

  "Bringing those?" Ironha asked.

  Carl grinned sheepishly. "Thought we could show them off."

  Ironha smiled. Of course they did.

  They made their way through the corridors, taking the elevator to the surface. The cold hit immediately—sharp after the workshop's warmth. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they crossed the clearing toward the longhouse.

  Ironha walked beside Doc, Fish padding quietly ahead. The phase wolf's breath misted in the frigid air, but she moved with easy grace through the snow.

  Doc seemed... light.

  Ironha studied him as they walked. His posture was relaxed, his expression calm. After yesterday's revelation—after showing them his world—she'd expected him to retreat inward.

  Instead, he looked more at ease than she'd seen him in weeks.

  Doc glanced her way, catching her staring. He smiled. "Do I have something on my face?"

  Ironha laughed, the sound escaping before she could stop it. "No. You just surprise me sometimes."

  "I hope that's a good thing," Doc said, still smiling as they approached the longhouse entrance.

  "It is," Ironha assured him.

  The longhouse doors stood open, warm light and voices spilling into the cold evening. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread drifted out, carried by the heat from the central hearth.

  Carl and Calen hurried ahead, eager to present their creations. Fish trotted after them, drawn by the promise of warmth and food.

  Doc paused at the threshold, glancing back at Ironha.

  "Ready?" she asked.

  He nodded. "Yeah."

  They stepped inside together.

  The longhouse was alive with sound. Firelight flickered off the carved beams, turning the rough-hewn space into something that almost felt grand. Bran moved between tables, refilling mugs and pretending not to smile when someone praised the stew.

  Ironha sat near the hearth beside Doc, letting the warmth soak into her hands. The air smelled of woodsmoke, bread, and the faint tang of bronze dust that still clung to their clothes.

  At the center of it longhouse, Carl and Calen stood before a group, their work laid out across the long table. The new tool braces shone in the firelight—bronze and crystal, each one carrying the faint signature of their shared effort. Carl demonstrated first, activating the stabilizer with practiced confidence. The air shimmered faintly as a small crate lifted from the table, weightless for a heartbeat before settling again.

  Edda leaned forward, fascinated; Dulric’s brow furrowed in curiosity. Calen followed with the material scanner, the glowing lines of the device reflecting in his circuit scars. Quiet pride shone in both of them, no words needed.

  Ironha turned slightly, watching Doc take it all in. He didn’t dominate the conversation or withdraw from it; he just existed there, part of the current.

  The difference was unmistakable. The man who had once kept the world at arm’s length now sat among them like he belonged.

  Ironha let herself breathe. The worry that had followed her since morning—the fear that he’d retreat again—finally eased.

  She leaned back, letting warmth seep into her bones as Carl and Calen continued their demonstration, passing each device between curious hands. Around them, conversation swelled, catching like kindling

  This was what progress looked like.

  Doc turned slightly, sensing her gaze. “You alright?”

  Ironha smiled. “I think so.”

  His answering smile was steady. “Good.”

  The fire crackled, steady and sure. Outside, the night wind swept across the snow-covered mountains, but inside, the longhouse held warmth and light.

  She believed their future would only grow from here.

  Thanks for reading!

  No Class Found, a quick rating or follow helps more than you’d think, it keeps the story visible and growing alongside our little mountain settlement.

  , Chapter 55 drops Tuesday!