The corridors of the G.G.S. Solomon hummed with quiet life. Once scorched and smoke-filled, they now gleamed under steady white lights. The air smelled faintly of ozone and sterilized metal — a ship still healing from its wounds.
Here and there, faint heat-warped seams traced along the bulkheads like scars beneath polished skin — quiet reminders of what it had survived.
Princess Lyssandra Voss walked beside her aide, Kael Renn, her steps light but measured, the hem of her coat brushing the polished deck. Following a few paces behind came Survivor, still in his jumpsuit, and the small drone that housed ZI, its lens glinting like an artificial eye.
Lyssandra had decided to give Survivor a tour of her great-grandfather’s ship. They moved through the restored decks, nodding to crewmen who paused mid-task to salute the living legend walking among them.
When the group approached the medical wing, the tone shifted. Conversations quieted; boots clicked faster against the deck. Every one of them seemed suddenly intent on getting past the doorway.
Survivor slowed, confused. “Why did we move past the medical wing?”
Lyssandra’s voice turned breezy, too casual to be natural. “Oh, nothing to see there—and besides,” she added with a faint laugh, “we don’t want what happened in the captain’s quarters to happen again.”
Survivor frowned. “What happened? I remember doing damage assessment and—oh, right. I got a new name change.”
Kael’s shoulders stiffened. He muttered something under his breath, eyes fixed on the corridor ahead, unwilling to relive that moment.
ZI hovered silently beside his friend, its usual hum softened—as if even the machine understood that some subjects were better left untouched.
The hum of the Solomon’s drives filled the chamber — a constant, low thunder that made the deck plates vibrate beneath their boots.
Someone called out, “Princess and Forgemaster on deck!”
Conversations cut short. Tools clattered to a stop. Dozens of engineers turned at once, their grease-streaked faces reflecting the amber glow of the reactor core. For a heartbeat, no one moved — then, as one, they straightened and saluted.
Survivor froze, caught between confusion and embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being seen.
Lyssandra smiled, easing the tension. “You can return to your work. I’m just showing our honored guest around.”
A few smiles broke through the discipline. The crew moved again, faster now — eager to impress.
“I know it’s a bit late to ask,” Survivor muttered, “but why is everyone looking at me like I just walked off a legend?”
“Because you did,” said a familiar voice.
Chief Engineer Dax stepped forward, wiping his hands on a rag. “To most, you Forgemasters are leaders and legends. But to us engineers…” He gave a short laugh. “…you’re the pinnacle of creation. The ones who built the impossible.”
Survivor scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “That’s… generous. I mostly just break stuff until it stops being broken.”
Dax grinned. “Exactly. That’s why you’re one of us.”
“Survivor look around the engine room, seeing some areas. Noticing patch work and places that could be improved.”
“ZI, I thought we were helping with the repairs?”
Survivor paused mid-step, listening to the steady hum under his boots. It wasn’t gunfire. It wasn’t alarms. Just the rhythm of machinery doing its job — ordinary, alive. He’d forgotten how that sounded.
ZI responded.“Indeed, we are helping repair the hull — focusing only on damaged areas. After updating my etiquette parameters, I determined it would be inappropriate to modify another’s ship without permission.”
Survivor raised an eyebrow to ask why.
The princess responded with some reserve. “That would be our doing—Our first meeting with ZI did not go off on the best start.”
Kael helped explain. “ZI knew about us before we met, we at the time thought it was a show of hostility– things escalated.”
ZI injected. “Hmm, I didn't see it that way, but the princess explained what was wrong, so I updated my knowledge with data given to me by the Solomon.”
“Ah, well. I guess I need a refresher on that.” Survivor pondered. “ZI can you give me a list to review on?”
ZI nodded his drone. “List has been made and available to review.
As another engineer came up. “Chief, the auxiliary capacitor, is going back to full again, and with the ship repairs, we can’t do our usual to bleed the excess.”
As Dax and another engineer discussed the readings, Survivor’s curiosity took over.
“Dax, was it? I might not be able to improve much, but I can help build an extra capacitor to ease the load — maybe reroute power to sync with the main supply.”
Dax’s grin widened. “How can I say no to an honored guest — especially a Forgemaster?”
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Survivor turned to Lyssandra. “Sorry, I know this is your tour, but… mind if I help out? It’s been a minute since I’ve tinkered with anything.”
Lyssandra smiled softly. “I see no problem with that. My grandfather would have loved to see this.”
“Can I watch?” one of the engineers blurted out — then immediately flushed red.
Survivor chuckled. “Sure, if it’s all right with Dax.”
Dax barked a laugh. “Why not? It’s not every day rookies get to see a Forgemaster at work!”
He turned to the rest of the bay. “Anyone else want to join?”
A wave of excitement rippled through the younger crew. The older engineers exchanged knowing grins — the look of veterans who knew they were about to witness something special.
Dax gestured toward the auxiliary core room, leading the group.
Kael murmured to Lyssandra, “He’s just like the Emperor — can’t resist a machine that needs fixing.”
She smiled. “That’s why I saved this section for last.”
Kael added with mock seriousness, “At least he didn’t abandon his granddaughter for the caretakers to deal with.”
Lyssandra jabbed him in the ribs. Kael winced. “Yeah, I deserved that.”
Before they could follow the others, ZI’s drone drifted silently beside them.
Both jumped slightly — it had been there the whole time, watching.
As everyone reached the auxiliary power chamber, the faint hum of dormant circuits echoed off the metal walls. The air still carried the tang of ozone from recent repairs.
Survivor and Dax stood over a flickering console, studying the faded schematic projected above it.
A soft chime sounded as ZI entered with Lyssandra and Kael.
“ZI,” Survivor called, glancing up. “Need your help. Can you get me the ship’s schematics? Would help to know what I’m planning.”
“Yes…” ZI’s voice had that faint electronic undertone, calm and certain. “You should be able to pull it up now.”
Survivor raised a hand. Without a visible interface, a pale-blue holo blossomed into the air beside him, lines of data spiraling into a detailed 3-D image.
“Thanks, ZI.” He leaned in, eyes scanning the flowing symbols.
Around him, the engineers froze mid-motion. The light from the holo washed across their faces, reflecting in their wide eyes. Dax just smirked — that wait until they really see something grin.
Kael folded his arms. “How does he do that?” he muttered, skepticism tinged with curiosity. “It’s the same as what we saw during the battle.”
ZI answered smoothly. “This is one of many abilities once possessed by the Forgemasters. They could summon any holographic construct they required — 3-D battlemaps, schematics, even messages.”
Kael nodded slowly. “I see.”
“Please stand back,” Survivor said, his tone quiet but commanding.
He lifted his hand. A thin beam of light coalesced — a brief flare, like a forge’s spark — and a hammer shimmered into being. Its head glowed faintly, lines of ancient script pulsing along its surface.
“ZI, how’s my inventory?”
“Spatial storage connection is stable. All resources across the network are available.”
Survivor nodded once.
A translucent holo-frame formed beside him, outlining the shape of the object he intended to craft.
When he brought the hammer down, the air sang — light and sound merging like a smith’s heartbeat. Each strike solidified the capacitor’s frame, the ghostly outline taking form under his hands, glowing brighter with every blow.
The room was alive with the hum of energy and awe.
Every strike of the hammer drew a flare of forge light across the engineers’ faces — eyes wide, reflecting both wonder and disbelief.
Dax laughed, shaking his head. “You’re definitely a Forgemaster, all right.”
As the final strike solidified the capacitor into being, Survivor glanced up. “I know it’s late to ask, but… what the hell is a Forgemaster?”
Dax grinned. “Whatever that was, I’d say it’s you. Where did that even come from?”
Survivor crouched by the frame, grabbing a bundle of cables, scanning for a connection point. “Forgemaster sounds a bit grandiose,” he muttered. “I always felt like I was called something else.”
Before anyone could respond, ZI’s voice cut through the static.
“Would Player sound better?”
Survivor froze mid-motion, something long-buried flickering in his eyes. He smiled faintly.
“Yeah… that sounds about right. Player.”
He lingered on the word for a moment, as if tasting a memory.
“Don’t know why, but that feels right. Thanks, man.”
And with that, he went back to work — searching for the next cable, the next connection, as the forge light dimmed around him.
Kael frowned, confusion in his voice. “Wait… that’s just someone who plays games.”
ZI replied without hesitation. “Yes. They liked calling themselves that—short and simple.”
A few engineers exchanged puzzled looks before Dax snorted. “Well, at least they had a sense of humor.”
ZI tilted his head slightly, tone genuinely perplexed. “But it’s true.”
That only made the laughter spread through the room, a low ripple of disbelief and amusement.
Lyssandra and Kael shared a glance that said no, that can’t be right. The idea seemed too absurd, too mundane for something that shaped their history.
Meanwhile, Survivor barely reacted. He crouched beside the open panel, tightening the final bolts and connecting the last of the cables—utterly unfazed, as if divine myths being debunked were just another part of the day’s work.
Survivor straightened up, brushing the dust from his gloves. “Alright, it should be good to go.”
Dax flipped the switch. The room went quiet as everyone watched the gauges.
Nothing happened.
Seconds passed. Then a full minute. The only sound was the faint hum of the ship’s ambient systems.
“Huh,” Survivor muttered, brow furrowing. “Did I mess up?”
Dax checked his monitor. “Yeah, nothing. The auxiliary capacitor isn’t charging.”
Survivor leaned closer to the holographic schematic beside him, its blue light flickering over his face. “No, that’s right. I wired it correctly. Maybe—” He paused, squinting. “Oh… Dax, this isn’t the auxiliary generator. This is the main one. Why the mix-up?”
Dax frowned. “Can’t be. You must be reading it wrong.”
He crossed the floor with his datapad, holding it beside the projection. “See, this is—” His words caught. “That’s not right.”
ZI’s drone hovered quietly nearby, the blue sensor light on its chassis pulsing as it observed.
Survivor turned toward it. “ZI, what version of the schematics did you give me?”
ZI’s lens shifted focus. “The one provided by the Solomon. The updated version you’re viewing now.”
Dax tapped through his pad, voice tightening. “I have the latest version too. This is way off.”
ZI rotated slightly, tone calm as ever. “No. You have the distributed version. Survivor has the actual version.”
The words hung in the air.
Even the hum of the reactor seemed to fade, as if the ship itself were listening.
Dax’s datapad slipped from his hands, clattering against the deck.
Lyssandra’s throat tightened. “…What?”
Please give a comment, review if you want.I would love to see how you guys view the story. Even like to hear your critique, if willing.
If worried about the AI assist, I use it for polish and grammar checks, but am learning to write without the polish.
