It was Day Five.
For five straight days, Dorian had led the robots in a grinding, sleepless sprint. Under his frantic schedule, all five train-carriages were finished yesterday—and had even passed their seal tests.
Dorian was ridiculous that way. With limited scrap and a half-buried shipyard, he’d somehow cobbled together a five-axis lathe, a milling-turning composite machine, a drilling rig, a cylindrical grinder—enough basic tooling to manufacture essential parts from scratch.
It felt like there was nothing he couldn’t “make.”
Wyatt found himself thinking that if Dorian had enough time and enough resources, he might even get the Sunflower back into the sky.
Today’s work was the wings.
When Wyatt checked the workshop that morning, two 13-meter-long main spars had already been laid out. Big Blue was leading a team of Firecallers, cutting down the remaining sections of the ship’s solar umbrella to fabricate ribs and trusses.
If nothing went wrong, they’d be able to depart in two more days.
One note: Big Blue was Y4139’s new name.
Dorian had an odd obsession with names. Ever since Y4139 joined them, Dorian worried endlessly that he still didn’t have one. Every time Dorian saw him, he opened with the same question:
“Y4139! Have you decided on a name yet?”
And every time, Y4139 forgot to decide.
In the end, Linneya rescued him. One day she blurted out “Big Blue-Blue”—for reasons no one could explain. Maybe because of that bottle of ocean-scent perfume he’d found and treasured. Y4139 liked it, adopted it on the spot, and Dorian was delighted.
In the workshop, Wyatt also ran into Minks, Pinecone, and Eisen.
Minks was transplanting plant seedlings into the new carriages and yelling at Eisen not to crush his sprouts. Eisen was installing the medical pod and warning Minks not to tangle the labeled wiring he’d already organized.
Dorian needed a huge number of robots for assembly, which meant the rest of them had to do a lot with their own hands.
Wyatt had assumed forty-three robots would be enough to manage.
Reality proved otherwise. Over the last few days, arguments broke out constantly.
Big Blue finally snapped and imported Plando’s old star-rank system wholesale. He painted five stars across his own chest plate—and somehow, that alone was enough to get him priority access to a bunch of robots.
When Minks and Dorian realized it worked, they copied him immediately. Soon everyone’s star count grew larger and larger.
Eisen painted eight.
Dorian painted ten.
Minks went full lunatic and covered his entire chest plate in stars.
They were busy showing off and congratulating each other when Linneya walked in wearing star-covered pajamas.
All three robots froze, speechless.
Linneya didn’t understand why they were staring.
Starling, standing beside her, nearly folded in half laughing.
…
The last few days had been tense—and, strangely, happy.
The only one who couldn’t relax was Wyatt.
As each carriage took shape, his worry grew heavier. He knew they couldn’t stay with the Sunflower much longer.
Phantom Forge would not let them go.
Sooner or later, it would come.
Wyatt could convert intelligent units within range, yes. But both he and Phantom Forge understood the limit: ten meters. If Phantom Forge kept its distance and used air units to coordinate strikes, Wyatt would struggle to protect everyone at once.
So beyond engineering progress, safety became his primary focus.
Most days, Wyatt spent the majority of his time outside.
Each morning he checked the TBMs—super-stealth generators—near the Sunflower’s entrance to make sure nothing had shifted or failed. Then he released the Shadow Falcon and used its aerial view to sweep the surrounding terrain.
Thanks to Dorian, the Shadow Falcon had finally been repaired. Having eyes in the sky made everything easier.
Wyatt also sent all eleven Hyenas out on patrol routes radiating from the Sunflower. They moved on fixed schedules and returned with reports the moment anything felt wrong.
It helped.
Yesterday, one Hyena reported something thirty-four kilometers to the southeast, tucked into a valley.
Wyatt rushed to investigate—and found an enormous object he had never seen before.
It looked like a turtle shell, massive and domed, with sawtoothed ridges evenly spaced along its edge. The “shell” was nearly the size of the Sunflower itself, filling the entire valley like a hill that had appeared overnight.
Worse, it looked alive.
Whatever the shell was made of, it rose and fell faintly, like a giant creature breathing. Beneath it, Wyatt spotted a few beetles moving in and out—and beyond them, the faint outline of countless egglike shapes packed under the dome.
That, at least, calmed him.
This had nothing to do with Phantom Forge. It was probably Miller’s handiwork—some bizarre nest or living machine. Whatever it was, as long as it stayed put for two days, it would no longer be Wyatt’s problem.
He withdrew quietly, leaving one Hyena behind to watch it.
And to avoid panic, he told no one—not even Starling.
…
One more detail Wyatt kept forgetting to mention: his hand.
Because of an accident, he’d lost his right hand again.
Two days ago, they’d been hoisting a water tank into the water carriage. Everyone helped. The tank was so heavy that the lifting chain snapped.
The tank crashed down, toppled a pile of junk, and rolled straight toward Linneya, who was watching from the side.
Linneya froze.
Wyatt sprinted in front of her and threw himself into the path of the rolling mass, bracing it with everything he had.
The tank weighed several tons. With momentum added, it hit like ten tons or more.
Wyatt’s right hand—already replaced once—was a standard Destroyer-model unit, damaged in earlier fights. Under that load, it failed instantly. Metal screamed. The joint sheared. The hand snapped off and was ruined.
But Linneya lived.
Afterward, Dorian scavenged through wreckage and found Wyatt another right arm. It had defects, but it was the best option available.
That was when Linneya appeared, hugging her father’s arm to her chest.
Carlos’s right arm.
Wyatt had already heard Linneya’s story. He knew that arm was the only piece of her father she had left. She treated it like a treasure, never letting it out of her sight.
Now she offered it to him.
Wyatt thanked her—and refused.
Linneya insisted.
And this time, everyone took her side.
“You should use it,” Starling said softly. “On this long journey, it’s one less thing she has to carry. And on your arm… it’s the safest place it can be.”
Dorian added, practical as ever, “It’s super-grade Yaru alloy. It matches your chassis. With a few modifications, I can mount it.”
Linneya looked up at Wyatt and spoke with quiet stubbornness. “Use it for now. When Lord Julian gives you a new one, you can return it.”
In the end, Wyatt gave in.
So now Carlos’s right arm sat on Wyatt’s shoulder.
The first time Linneya watched her father’s hand move again—on Wyatt’s body—her eyes filled instantly.
But she had her own little plan.
That night, while Wyatt was charging, Linneya slipped into the room in her star-pattern pajama set, dragging a huge backpack behind her.
Wyatt realized she understood the meaning of the stars now, because she pointed at the ones on her pajamas and asked in a small voice, “Wyatt… can you listen to me tonight?”
“What do you need?” Wyatt asked.
“Promise first,” Linneya said. “And don’t tell anyone.”
Wyatt hesitated only a second. “All right. I promise.”
“Yes, Commander,” Linneya said solemnly.
“Yes, Commander,” Wyatt echoed, indulging her.
Linneya pulled a badly faded jacket from her bag. “Put this on.”
She stepped close and carefully helped him into it.
The jacket was small, but it fit—barely.
Wyatt stood there while Linneya stared at him without speaking.
“And then?” he asked.
“Sleep,” she whispered. “Sleep with me.”
“Sleep is a human behavior,” Wyatt said gently. “I don’t need sleep.”
“I know,” Linneya said. “Then pretend.”
She laid out an equally worn sleeping pad and blanket on the floor. Then she ordered, “Lie down. On your side.”
Wyatt did as she asked.
Linneya climbed into his arms with her back to him, tugged his newly installed right hand into place, and used it as a pillow.
Wyatt waited for her next command.
None came.
After a while, he felt her shoulders begin to tremble. Tears rolled down and landed warm on his hand.
Without being told, Wyatt pulled the blanket over her.
“Thank you,” Linneya murmured. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Wyatt said.