Main - Chapter 7.2: Neptunia

Trade Era 1235, Day 165. 08:49 UTC
Engineering, Celestial Voyager
Corbin stood in the Celestial Voyager’s engines room, wiping grease off his hands with an old rag. The hum of the ship’s systems was like background music to him—constant, familiar, almost soothing. The engines had been through hell and back, patched together more times than he could count with spare parts, improvised fixes, and plenty of luck. But luck only lasted so long in space. Sooner or later, the engines would need more than just a temporary patch job.

He sighed, looking at the state of things. The last encounter put extra strain on the propulsion systems. Not only from running it at 120% for hours but also because of the damage sustained. The whole section was now a patchwork of "original equipment" and creative engineering, and as much as Corbin appreciated the craftsmanship of duct tape and bailing wire, it was time for a proper fix.

He thumbed the list of parts he had scrawled onto his datapad, frowning at the sheer length of it. He needed to make a trip to the Navy's repair depot and get this ship back in fighting shape. And he had another plan in mind, too—one that involved taking Gui Wang under his wing. The kid had potential, no doubt about it, but he needed more hands-on experience. Corbin figured this was the perfect opportunity to get Gui familiar with the inner workings of the CeeVee, maybe even nudge him toward becoming his main assistant.

He tapped the comm button:

"Gui, meet me in the engine room. I’ve got something I want to go over with you."

A few minutes later, Gui appeared in the doorway, looking a little uncertain but eager as always.

"Sir?" - he said, just like the Synths. The kid was overly formal when he was nervous.

"Gui, we have an opportunity to get the engines back up to spec. I'm pretty sure the ITC has all the parts we need, we just need to know what parts we need. " Corbin holds a datapad out to Gui. "Here's the original engineering diagrams for the spike drive. I imagine it'll take a couple hours, but see if you can run through the schematics and create a list of what we need to replace. Don't be shy either, if a part looks questionable, put it on the list. I'll be running through the other systems, I was so focused on keeping us moving during the fight, I'm not sure what else got damaged."

Gui sat down at the corner workstation of the engine bay, the hum of the Celestial Voyager’s systems filling the quiet air around him. Corbin had just handed him the original engineering diagrams for the spike drive, and the task ahead was clear—go through the schematics and figure out exactly what needed replacing. It was a tall order, but Gui had been preparing for this moment ever since he joined.

He propped the datapad on his lap, the glowing schematics unfolding in front of him, line after line of complex systems, connections, and components. He swiped through the diagrams, carefully reading over the details. Fuel injectors, plasma conduits, coolant regulators—Gui’s job was to confirm what was damaged or worn out and ensure nothing was overlooked.

---

A couple of hours later, Gui sat at the workstation, staring at the long list of parts he had scrawled onto the datapad, his thumb absentmindedly scrolling through it. The sheer length of it made him frown, and he couldn’t help but shake his head at how much work the engines needed.

As he moved down the list, Gui realized that many parts weren’t outright broken—they were just tired. The Plasma Injectors were pushing past their recommended operational limits, and the Thermal Displacement Grid had taken a beating, its cooling capacity compromised. He had added both to the list without hesitation. Better safe than sorry.

Then he paused on the Subatomic Compensator. It wasn’t flagged as critical, but the wear indicators were creeping upward. Gui tapped his chin thoughtfully. The compensator was a crucial part of the spike drive’s function, responsible for stabilizing jumps through space. If it failed, they’d be looking at serious trouble—if not something worse.

Sighing, he added it to the list. It wasn’t a part most engineers would prioritize just yet, but Gui had learned one thing in his time aboard the CeeVee—you didn’t take chances with things that kept you alive in the void.

By the time he finished reviewing it, the list was long and a bit daunting, but Gui felt good about it. He glanced over the parts one last time, then stood up, datapad in hand, and headed over to Corbin, who was busy with another system nearby.

"Corbin, I’ve got the list," Gui said, holding up the datapad. "Covered everything I could find. Some of the parts aren’t critical yet, but I figure we don’t want to push our luck."

Corbin took the datapad and scrolled through Gui’s work, nodding slowly. "Looks like you nailed it," he said, his voice tinged with approval. "You even put down the compensator, huh? Good call. Most wouldn’t bother with it right now, but you’re right—it’s better to handle that before it bites us mid-jump."

Gui felt a surge of pride at the compliment. "Figured it was worth playing it safe."

"Damn right," Corbin said, handing the datapad back with a satisfied grin. "You and I had almost the same list."

"Excellent work Gui, take a breather and then get the synths working to pull any of the parts that are truly busted. I'm taking this list to the ITC to request replacements." Corbin heads off to the ITC repair bay with his list of parts.

Trade Era 1235, Day 168. 06:00 UTC
Starbase Poseidon, Neptunia

"The Admiralty extends its heartfelt congratulations on the successful completion of your recent tour of duty. Your exemplary service as the First Officer of the ISS Sentinel and your role as Liaison Officer to the Celestial Voyager has been noted with high commendation."

As Douklan traveled through the familiar corridors of the base, he had reviewed the Admiralty letter that he had inadvertently committed to memory.

"In recognition of your outstanding performance and dedication, we are pleased to extend an invitation for you to continue your service with the Interstellar Trade Commission's Security Division. We believe that your skills and leadership qualities will be invaluable as we establish a new planetary garrison on Astralon."

Douklan had been considering the words in Admiral Wainwright's letter constantly, going over them again and again thousands of times in his mind since he had first read them in the offer letter subjective days earlier.

"Should you choose to remain in active duty, you will be assigned command of this garrison. You will lead the officers and enlisted personnel who will be stationed there, ensuring the security and stability of our operations in that region. Your leadership will be crucial in this endeavor, and we have every confidence in your ability to excel in this expanded role."

At first he had rebelled against such a post. After all, what did he, a Destroider, know about working on a dirt ball? But he had faith in the ITC, and hadn't he already been admiring Captain Zaytsev's bravery in taking up the position of governor? So he hadn't decided right away. He had set that decision aside with the letter like a family heirloom, and would take it out to admire and consider it at every opportunity.
Lt. Paravides knew he shouldn't make a snap judgment when sober reflection was needed. So he'd spent a good deal of thought on what the advantages of accepting the position would be. This was a huge opportunity, after all. Not only was this an exciting frontier adventure, not only was it a huge promotion, but it meant a measure of independence that he hadn't experienced since he enlisted in the Navy. Out on the fringes, his would be the ultimate authority. No more would he have to kowtow to ship officers less knowledgeable (and sometimes less competent) than he. No more would he have to pass the obvious course of action up the chain of command and watch as it was debated and dismissed by inexperienced sinecures. He could set the policy, and chart the destiny of the Navy on Astralon and help the military personnel bond into a tight-knit group that would support and influence the development of the new colony. A whole new world! Douklan swelled with pride and delight at the thought. Out of all the possible candidates, they had chosen HIM.

His own command! This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! His excitement grew every time he thought about it. Hadn't he just been admiring Captain Zaytsev for her bravery in making the astonishing choice to become the colony's governor? At the time he had wondered whether he would be as brave...no, if he was honest, he had wondered if he could be as brave. He'd had no inkling, couldn't even have dreamt that an opportunity to answer that question would have come his way. This was his chance! Was he man enough to take it? Generally he was modest, but Douklan thought he was up to this task. Hell, he was eager to get started!

This was a challenge, a new adventure at last after years and years of the same drudgery as backup and, rarely, the actual pilot of various Fleet vessels. Adventure? Glory? Challenge? These things had been rare in the Navy, a far cry from the excitement of "personal testimonies" in the recruiting materials. He'd be a fool to not accept this commission; it was an offer that would not be repeated. Could not be repeated, honestly: if he declined the offer, it was clear that his Navy commission was at an end, and how likely was it that anyone not in the Navy would ever be offered such a position of authority and responsibility on a new world? It was impossible. This was the only time he'd ever get this offer, the best offer of his life.

Perhaps best of all, living as a commander on a colony would present him with something he hadn't had for a decade: a stable location, a place to call home. That stability is a key prerequisite for forming any kind of serious relationship. He would be able to commit to a partner for the first time in his adult life, with the assurance that he would be there, with her, and not called away on a tour off-world for years that they could never get back. The memory of Farchelle visited him in his dreams sometimes still. From Douklan's perspective, only a dozen years had passed since they kissed their heartfelt goodbyes on Akpy. But as with any space traveler, Douklan's years of "awake" time were interspersed with entire decades of sleep time. Those years had passed for all of his loved ones. His parents, Farchelle, everyone that he had known and grown up with on Destroid-3, all of them had lived their lives while he slept and traveled between the stars. Many were already dead of old age, and few of the ones that remained of those he remembered would recall his face or name after such a long absence. Long-term relationships were impossible for space travelers when years passed to cool the ardor between each date. The idea of being relieved of that burden! Just think: to finally re-enter the flow of time with the rest of the human race! He could find someone to like, someone who liked him, and perhaps...perhaps they could even fall in love. Settling on a planet made that possible again.

All this flashed through his head again as he had made his way through the Poseidon Naval Base in Neptunia, and while he had waited outside the Admiral's office. Now, the Admiral brought his attention back to the present as she addressed him.

The choice was obvious.

"Yes, Admiral," Lieutenant Paravides agreed. "I do. I have thought about it carefully and thoroughly. Commanding the garrison is an amazing opportunity and a wonderful adventure...but it is one that I have decided, regretfully, to not accept."

Even now, with his mind made up, a part of him deep inside screamed denial at this. ::What are you doing???::

"It has been by pride and my privilege to serve the ITC and the Navy these past twelve years."

Yes, he was an idiot for turning down this command. He knew this. But he also knew that he had put his dreams on hold for a dozen years serving in the Navy, and he was not quite ready to give up on his dreams entirely. The galaxy of possibility spread before him, alluring and dangerous.

"I am profoundly grateful for all that the Navy has provided me, and I am deeply honored for the esteem you have for me to have made me this offer."

As when each of his previous tours of duty had ended, the old wanderlust had risen in him like the heat of a cozy fire (or like heartburn, he told himself in his more caustic moments). The old dream of exploring the galaxy, of discovery, drew near again, tantalizing. Never had Douklan felt it more strongly than now, when he had experienced a little bit of such adventure on the CeeVee. He had tasted it, and found that just a taste was not enough.

"Please believe me when I say that all of the service members I worked alongside, the crew of the various ships, Captain Rael, as well as you and the rest of the Admiralty, have my utmost respect."

He knew he was consigning himself to serving under someone else, someone probably less qualified than himself, wherever he ended up. But the idea of choosing a life in the dirt instead of the dream of the stars...that was deeply unsettling to him. Even though he had convinced himself several times that the obvious, clearly best choice was to accept the commission, that unease kept coming back. Was he doomed to never be satisfied, to always think that the grass was greener elsewhere? Perhaps yes. But whether that was true or not, Douklan knew that he'd go stir crazy on Astralon if he knew that his job tied him there, in one place, for years. He realized that he would forever regret not taking the opportunity to see the galaxy, to explore, to finally see if the reality matched his childhood dream.

"I regret the delay, but I wanted to communicate this to you in person, to make it clear that there is absolutely no animus in my decision."


Douklan knew that the Admiral likely had several other candidates in mind for the Commander role, and he realized with a start that perhaps she had already made the offer to other, more qualified personnel before him. But while he could think of many officers who would be terrible choices to give a command, he could also think of several others who would be inspired choices to lead a garrison. In fact, he mused, it was a shame that it had to be ITC Navy personnel...he daydreamed for a moment of a scenario in which one or another of the crew of the CeeVee would take the role and had to quash a smile at the image. Douklan was confident that the Admiral had other candidates in mind that were at least as good as the ones that occurred to him.

"Again, thank you for your time, Admiral, and the honor of your consideration."

Douklan Paravides also knew that he would be a miserable partner to his imagined, hypothetical lover; the job of garrison commander would be a busy one with little downtime for at least the first year. And more practically speaking, who exactly would be available for this opportune romance? Terraforming scientists? Captain Zaytsev??? He quickly covered the smirk at this incongruous image as a warm smile to the Admiral. No, he couldn't see having a serious romance with someone who had been a shipmate, much less a co-leader. On board ships, any assignations with shipmates were, by long spacer tradition and centuries of experience, necessarily short-lived and casual. The attachments that came with serious relationships were an impediment to shipboard life, not to mention the jealousies and possessiveness that came along. So when would he be able to form this fairy-tale romance on Astralon? Only after years when the colonists arrived...and what colonist would fall for him? Most if not all of the colonists would be married! So would it be a widow, or a polyamorous wife? Neither hypothetical seemed all that appealing as worth a wait of years.

No, for now, the stars would win his heart again.

Admiral Wainwright studied Douklan with a steady gaze, her fingers interlaced on the desk before her. She nodded once, slowly, as if she had anticipated his decision, though perhaps not without a hint of disappointment.

"Lieutenant Paravides," she began, her tone measured but warm, "I understand that you’ve given this a great deal of thought. This is a significant opportunity, but I also understand that you may not want it."

She took a moment to tap a few commands into her console, a small notification chiming softly in response. "Given your decision, the next steps are clear. Effective immediately, you will be honorably discharged from the ITC Navy, and transferred to the Interstellar Trade Commission's Security Division Reserve Forces."

Wainwright leaned back slightly in her chair, her expression softening. "As a reservist, you'll retain your rank and be placed on standby. Should the ITC require additional manpower for any wars, major conflict or urgent situation, you’ll be called upon to serve once again. But outside of that, you will be free to pursue your own path."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle in. "The Reserve Forces are largely composed of former military members who, like you, have reached the end of their active duty or resigned their commission. They aren’t normally kept under arms, but they are available should the Navy or the Security Division need experienced personnel. It’s not a common occurrence, but it’s a contingency nevertheless."

The Admiral’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, and her voice softened further. "You’ve served with distinction, Mr. Paravides. Your contributions have not gone unnoticed, and we are grateful for everything you’ve done. You have my respect. Wherever your journey takes you next, I trust that you will continue to make us proud."

---

Back aboard the Celestial Voyager, Hank Heron leaned back in his chair, still mulling over the details of his conversation aboard the ITCS Eternal Wanderer. The faint chime of an incoming StellarNet transmission pulled him from his thoughts. The message flickered to life on his console, displaying a list of names and short bios—engineers, pilots, and a few eager adventurers—all former military personnel, currently at Neptunia. They were seeking passage or a place aboard, hoping to join a starship for the next leg of their journey beyond the water world.

Hank scanned the list with a raised brow, a slow grin spreading across his face. Fresh faces meant new opportunities—and new stories to tell.

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