TSD: 3049-10-07 — Local: 05:41
Galatea, Galatea System — Galaport City (Bay Ring 3 / Harrow Unit Mech Bay)
The bay woke up the way a machine woke up: in stages.
First came the lights—harsh fluorescents clicking on in rows, turning steel into pale glare and making every smear of coolant and oil look like evidence. Then came the sound—fans, compressors, the distant thrum of other reactors coming online. Finally came the people—boots on catwalk grating, tool carts rattling, voices still low because everyone's body remembered last night's gunfire even if their mouths pretended it was over.
Kel was already in the bay when the first new hire arrived.
He stood on the floor beneath the Zeus's towering legs, arms crossed, posture relaxed but unmistakably in control. The assault 'Mech filled the space like a wall of industrial warfare—scarred armor plates, heat discoloration along vents, and the left hip actuator still running slightly hotter than it should. The machine was quiet now, but it radiated the kind of threat that made people lower their voices without being told.
Tessa was on a scaffold by the Zeus's left hip, diagnostic unit clipped to her belt, sleeves rolled and collar open. Today she wore a fitted thermal shirt under her coveralls—dark, practical—coveralls tied at the waist instead of zipped up, because she needed freedom of movement. Her hair had changed again: a thick braid pulled over one shoulder, secured with a bandana to keep it out of her face. She looked like she'd slept three hours and decided the world could deal with it.
Mara stood at a bay-side workstation, tablet open, inventory lists scrolling. She wore a clean jacket with reinforced elbows and a high collar, gloves tucked into a pocket. Her hair was pinned back into a tight coil again—controlled, neat, no loose edges. Her eyes were sharp, and the way she looked at the bay—like she was measuring it for risks—made it clear she'd be the one keeping them alive in ways armor never could.
Sienna lounged near the Valkyrie's service cradle, helmet bag at her feet, posture too casual to be truly casual. She'd chosen a fitted long-sleeve top and cargo pants, boots polished enough to show she cared without admitting it. Her hair was half-up, half-down—messy but intentional, like she wanted to look effortless and had practiced the effort.
Avery Quill stood near the bay door, new flak vest still stiff on her shoulders, hands clasped like she wasn't sure where to put them. She'd trimmed her hair again—shorter than yesterday, even more practical—and the line of her jaw looked tense with the effort of not looking intimidated by a Zeus and a crew that already moved like they belonged together.
Nadia Krieger was by the supply crates, hands hovering over a ration pack she hadn't opened, coat still on despite the bay heat. Her hair was tied up, but the knot was already loosening. She looked like she wanted to be invisible and useful at the same time—like those things were the only safe ways to exist.
Kel's gaze moved over them, calm, not predatory, not judgmental. Just assessing.
Then the bay door opened again.
Two young women stepped in—new hires, still unnamed until they earned the space.
One was smaller, wiry, with a tool bag slung over her shoulder like it was part of her skeleton. She wore a fitted mechanic's jacket over a cropped work top, and grease-stained cargo pants tucked into boots that had seen real work. Her hair was a thick mass of curls shoved up under a cap, a few stubborn strands escaping and springing around her face. Her eyes were wide, bright, and locked instantly onto the Zeus like she'd just walked into a cathedral.
The other was taller, athletic, wearing a plain jacket and sturdy pants with reinforced seams—driver's wear. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and she stood with the wary stillness of someone who'd learned to read rooms quickly. Her gaze flicked to Kel, then to Mara, then away again, like she was already trying to figure out who she needed to impress and how.
Tessa climbed down one rung on the scaffold, wiping her hands on a rag.
She pointed the rag at the smaller one. "You. Tech hand."
The curly-haired girl straightened like she'd been snapped to attention. "Yes—ma'am."
Tessa's tone stayed flat, but her eyes were sharp. "Name."
The girl swallowed. "Rina Vale."
Tessa looked her up and down like she was inspecting a part. "Rina Vale. You touch my Zeus without permission and I'll peel your fingernails off with pliers."
Rina's eyes widened—then she nodded too hard. "Understood."
Tessa's mouth twitched—almost a smile. Almost. "Good. Because you're going to be useful."
That landed like praise whether Tessa intended it or not.
Rina's cheeks flushed bright red. She looked down, then up, then down again, like her brain didn't know where to put the heat in her face. "I—thank you."
Tessa snorted quietly. "Don't thank me. Learn."
Rina nodded again, too fast, clutching her tool bag like it was armor.
Mara stepped toward the taller new hire, her voice professional. "And you."
The driver straightened, shoulders squaring. "Jori Kade," she said. Her voice was steady, but her hands betrayed her—fingers flexing once, then still.
Mara studied her file on the tablet. "Rotation driver and security. You'll run second seat for Nadia, and you'll cover perimeter checks when we stop."
Jori nodded once. "Yes."
Mara's eyes flicked up. "You've never worked for a unit with a dedicated assault platform."
Jori swallowed. "No."
Kel spoke, calm, and Jori's gaze snapped to him like she'd been pulled by a string.
"You can drive under fire?" Kel asked.
Jori hesitated—honest pause. "I can drive. Under fire… I haven't been tested."
Kel nodded once. "You will be."
Jori's throat moved. "Copy."
Kel didn't smile. He didn't soften it. But he did something that hit harder than comfort.
"Do your job," he said calmly. "And you'll be fine."
Jori blinked like she wasn't used to that kind of certainty directed at her. Her cheeks warmed faintly, and she looked away too fast. "Yes," she said. "I will."
Mara watched that reaction with a tiny narrowing of her eyes—filing it away the same way she filed everything.
Tessa barked from the scaffold base, "Rina. Up here. Now."
Rina nearly tripped over her own boots rushing toward the ladder. "Yes—ma'am."
Tessa caught her elbow before she could faceplant. "Don't rush. Rushing is how people die."
Rina froze, eyes wide. Then she nodded slowly this time, absorbing it.
Tessa let go. "Good. Now climb."
Rina climbed, careful now, and when she reached the platform she stared at the Zeus's hip actuator assembly like she was trying to memorize it.
Tessa pointed. "This is the problem child. You're going to learn its moods."
Rina breathed, quietly reverent. "It's beautiful."
Tessa scoffed. "It's a machine."
Rina said, very softly, "That's why."
Tessa paused—just a fraction. Then she looked away and muttered, "Fine. Whatever. Hand me the coupler gauge."
Rina fumbled the tool out of her bag too quickly, almost dropping it. Tessa caught it with a sigh.
"Slow," Tessa said again. "Slow and correct."
Rina nodded, cheeks still pink. "Yes."
Down on the bay floor, Mara snapped a gear checklist closed and addressed the group.
"Mission two is a Periphery corridor security and recon run," she said. "Twenty-one days. We travel light. We assume our stops are compromised. We do not loiter."
Avery stood straighter. Nadia's eyes widened. Jori watched Mara like she was trying to learn her rhythm.
Sienna rolled her shoulders. "Any chance this is boring?"
Mara's gaze didn't change. "No."
Sienna grinned anyway, but it didn't reach her eyes.
Elin entered then—quiet, efficient, carrying a sealed med kit crate and a small cooler. She looked more tired than yesterday, but her posture was iron. Today she wore a practical jacket and her braid was tighter, higher. Her hands were clean now, but her eyes still held the memory of blood.
She set the med crate down and said, "If anyone wants to live, you listen when I talk."
No one argued.
Kel watched them, calm, arms still crossed. This was the unit now: a handful of young women with awkward edges and sharp skills, pulled together by contract and necessity.
And somewhere out there, beyond Galatea's dust and paperwork, the Periphery corridor waited—full of disciplined unknowns and the kind of violence that didn't care about feelings.
Kel finally spoke to all of them.
"We move in six hours," he said. Calm. Certain. "Pack light. No personal clutter. If you need something, you ask. If you're unsure, you say it. If you lie, you die."
The words landed heavy.
Not because they were dramatic.
Because they were true.
Nadia's throat moved. Avery's jaw tightened. Jori swallowed. Rina nearly dropped a tool again on the scaffold above.
Sienna's grin faded into something more serious.
Mara nodded once, like she approved the clarity.
Tessa muttered from above, "Finally someone said it out loud."
Kel's gaze moved to the Zeus.
Then to his crew.
Then back to the horizon only he could see.
"Let's work," he said.
And the bay turned into motion—tools, checklists, packing crates, comm checks, reactor diagnostics.
A unit being forged in routine.
Before it was tested in blood.
---
Unit Ledger — Iron Inheritance (Running C-Bill Log)
(Maintained by Mara Saito; updated end of TSD 3049-10-07, 05:41)
Starting balances (from end Chapter 11)
Liquid on hand: 164,250
Restricted/held: 25,000
Earmarked wage reserve (inside liquid): 22,000
Prep expenses (initial outflow this morning)
Cold-weather travel kit (blankets, liners, heaters, spare seals): −3,600
Extra med crate + trauma injectors (Elin request): −4,800
Vehicle spare parts pack (belts, filters, tires, coolant): −2,900
Zeus actuator spares (limited: seals + couplers): −6,500
Total new expenses: −17,800
Current balances
Current liquid on hand: 146,450 C-bills
Restricted/held: 25,000 C-bills (not accessible)
Earmarked wage reserve (inside liquid): 22,000