Inside the cluttered workshop, holograms flickered among scattered blueprints, paper scraps, and scale ship models.
A man paced back and forth near a half-lit console, his jumpsuit tied around his waist, grease and oil staining his shirt and arms.
He muttered to himself, waving his hands as though rehearsing.
“Hello… I’m a person—no, that’s terrible.”
He tried again. “Greetings from beyond—no, no, no.”
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, sighing.
A holo-vid blinked to life, ZI’s calm voice cutting through the chaos.
“Commander, your guests have arrived.”
“Good! Guide them here,” he said absently, still thinking.
“They are waiting outside, Commander,” ZI clarified.
Without looking up, the man replied, “Then let them in. I’m trying to find a way to greet them properly. It needs to be… memorable.”
As he spoke, the door slid open. The team outside—tense and expecting something monumental—was instead met with a scene of absolute confusion.
The man continued pacing, talking to the holo.
“Help me out here, ZI. You’re better with people than I am.”
“Commander,” ZI replied with a note of humor, “you might want to turn around and see our guests.”
He frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with his gloved hand.
“Also, we talked about this. Commander is getting dull. Did you ever come up with a better name?”
“Later,” ZI said, almost amused. “Turn around.”
The man turned. His words froze as his gaze met the group standing in the doorway—Lyssandra, Kael, Soren, and their detail, all staring in stunned disbelief.
Beside them, ZI’s droid gave a cheerful little wave.
The man—grease-streaked, brilliant, and utterly unprepared—stood there like a child caught doing something he shouldn’t.
The man stood frozen, whispering as if afraid to break reality.
“ZI… why am I seeing people?”
ZI’s voice came through the holo, calm as ever, while the droid beside the group mimicked his gestures.
“These are our guests — the ones you’ve been expecting. Also, we talked about wearing something presentable.”
The Commander relaxed, speaking casually to the droid.
“Hey, this is the best jumpsuit I have! The rest are dirty.”
The droid tilted its head, giving a perfectly human look of skepticism.
“Uh-huh. Let me guess — testing something new?”
The Commander perked up immediately, enthusiasm overtaking embarrassment.
“Yeah! ZI, I was thinking the new thruster design should adapt better to high-speed maneuvers, so I thought—”
ZI interrupted before he could take off on a tangent.
“Commander. While I would love to hear about it, we have guests.” The droid gestured politely toward the group.
The guards exchanged uncertain glances, each silently asking who was supposed to handle this. Sergeant Corin looked ready to speak but found no words. Doctor Ilya clutched her datapad, torn between taking notes and hiding behind it.
Soren pinched the bridge of his nose, an expression that said not this again.
Kael leaned closer to Lyssandra.
“This is… not what I expected from a Forgemaster.”
Lyssandra studied the man, confusion and curiosity mixing.
“He’s different from how my great-grandfather was… but—”
“Similar,” Kael finished for her. “Reminds me of when you and he visited the Solomon when we were kids. He’d vanish into the engine room to ‘fix something that wasn’t broken.’”
Soren sighed, rubbing his temple.
“I’d rather not remember those days.”
As ZI reintroduced the group, the Commander stood awkwardly, still unsure what to do.
“Um… hello. I am… a person you were expecting to meet,” he said, then muttered, “Yeah, let’s go with that.”
The holo ZI flickered slightly, almost like a sigh.
Lyssandra kept her composure. “Hello, Commander. My team and I are here at your request — and to see if you might provide assistance to our crew.”
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The Commander brightened a little, finding confidence again.
“Right! Yes, of course — let’s chat and help you out.”
He stepped forward and offered a handshake.
ZI cut in gently. “Commander, your glove.”
He looked down to see his grease-stained glove and quickly pulled it off — revealing a hand slick with sweat.
“Sorry, I’m not used to… greetings.” He tried to wipe it clean on his shirt, only smearing more grease around. After a moment, he sighed and gave up.
“It’s good to meet you all. Welcome to one of my workshops. So—how do you want to start?”
The tension eased. Kael moved to stand beside Lyssandra, quietly signaling the guards to stand down. Ilya and Soren remained nearby, ready but relaxed, while the guards stationed themselves outside.
Lyssandra smiled, finally sensing a return to normality.
“Well, we were in a pitched battle recently. Many of our crew are injured and in need of medical attention. We were hoping you could assist with that.”
The Commander thought for a moment, then frowned.
“I’m sorry — I don’t have medical supplies. Haven’t needed that sort of thing in a long while.”
The air dimmed for a moment, until ZI spoke up.
“Commander, we have several stockpiles of medical supplies prepared for use. There is also a fully equipped medical wing on this station — fully staffed.”
The Commander blinked. “Since when do we have those?”
ZI’s tone was as even as ever. “Stockpiles were established approximately seven hundred and twenty-three years ago. Supplies have been routinely replaced upon expiration.”
He frowned deeper. “Why did we do that again?”
“At the time, you said ‘just in case we ever need them.’”
A pause. Then the Commander smiled faintly. “Good thing past me liked to be prepared.”
He turned to Lyssandra with a bit more poise. “Apologies for the mix-up. We’ll provide whatever you need. The medical wing is yours.”
A visible wave of relief passed through the team — hope finally creeping back into their expressions.
As greetings and introductions concluded, time passed aboard the station.
The Solomon’s airlock stood open, a steady stream of droids and drones ferrying the wounded toward the nearby medical wing.
Outside the ship, Captain Maeric and Chief Engineer Dax waited with several guards and officers, watching for the away team’s return.
Lyssandra and her group approached, the Commander and ZI following a short distance behind.
Maeric exhaled in visible relief.“It’s a blessing our host is so generous. Reports say most of the injured are stable now.”
Dax added with a grin.“More than generous! The Solomon didn’t just get patched — she got a full patch update. In another hour she’ll look factory-new.”
Lyssandra smiled faintly.“He’s the one responsible for that,” she said, gesturing toward the Commander.
Maeric turned, noticing the man standing silently, gaze fixed on the wounded being carried past.
The old captain stepped closer, shifting to block the view — a subtle act of respect — and extended his hand.“You have my gratitude for everything you’ve done for us.”
The Commander blinked, awareness returning to his eyes.“No need for thanks. I’m just glad I could help.” He glanced down at his grease-stained hand. “Sorry. Not exactly presentable.”
Maeric chuckled, grasping it anyway.“If I walk away with a bit of grease on me to thank the man who saved my crew, then I’ll consider it earned.”
Dax came over with the others in tow.
“So, you’re the Forgemaster everyone’s been talking about, huh? I’ll admit, your work’s incredible — but you ever heard of restraint? Those gate ships of yours are monsters.”
The Commander blinked. “What do you mean, gate ships?”
ZI answered smoothly. “He’s referring to the scout vessels we deployed beyond the gate.”
Realization dawned on the Commander’s face. “Ah. The scouts. Yeah, those shouldn’t be a problem.”
Several brows furrowed.
Kael stepped forward. “They attacked anything that got near them. They wiped out entire task groups.”
The Commander frowned, genuinely confused.
“That’s not possible. Their weapon systems were capped — they should only defend themselves from raiders or debris. Even then, they’re supposed to identify friendlies first.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Some of the younger crew looked skeptical, waiting for the punchline. But the older officers—Maeric, Soren, Dax—read the Commander’s face and realized with a sinking weight that he wasn’t joking.
Dax tried to lighten the mood. “Well then, maybe next time send us something older to greet us.”
The Commander turned, half-defensive. “They were the MK—”
ZI finished seamlessly. “MK10 variant. An outdated design. Current models are MK50, though the MK30 was already far more efficient.”
A faint note of humor slipped into his tone.
The Commander frowned at him. “Hey, those upgrades were necessary. The new ones can handle deep recon far better.”
ZI replied, ever so slightly smug. “Indeed. Though the MK30 required fewer resources. Minimal waste. Elegant.”
The two continued bickering like engineers who’d forgotten their audience.
Around them, the crew exchanged uneasy glances.
Lyssandra murmured, more to herself than anyone else, “If what he’s saying is true, then…”
Kael finished grimly. “Whatever he’s been fighting… we wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Ilya added, quietly horrified, “And if the galaxy was struggling with the scouts…”
Soren’s voice was steady, but his expression wasn’t. “Then he’s got ships that make those look like toys.”
Lyssandra whispered, almost afraid of the answer. “But what could possibly need that kind of power?”
Before anyone could respond, the station lights dimmed — then flared crimson.
A deep klaxon reverberated through the deck, making the floor vibrate beneath their boots.
“Alert. Dimensional readings spiking—Swarm signatures emerging from the Dead Sector portal. Classification: Raid-class incursion.”
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.
Note: Character and ship designs are open to interpretation. Imagine them in whatever style fits your vision.
Release Schedule Note:
This 2-chapter drop is a planned holiday bonus.
Weekly releases will continue normally next week.
Expect another multi-chapter bundle around Christmas and New Year.
