Salvage and Survival in the Debris

The Amber Wing settles into cruise, its drive core finally steady. Coolant mist drifts through the engineering bay, and the new couplings hum with a clean, even rhythm. Ranuko keeps one hand on the panel, feathers lit by emergency red, while Lahani watches the sensor sweep for any last corporate tail.

A soft chirp cuts through the engine thrum, the salvage comm still carrying Serafina’s last ping from the gravity well. No fresh alarm follows it, just the ugly little fact of her drifting out there with her crate.

Ranuko eases back from the console, flexing cramped fingers. Lahani glances toward Nahuli, then toward the tool scattered across the deck, the question in her posture simple and tired: keep working, or breathe for a minute?

The bay remains a mess, but now it is a livable one, a repaired one. For the first time in hours, nobody is moving fast enough to trip over fear. The three of them share the same small, quiet pause, with the engine’s steady thrum underfoot and room enough to talk.

Nahuli starts with the loose tools, gathering them into a neat cluster by the panel. A light tap from the drive stack answers him, a brief power fluctuation that shivers the coolant haze across the deck.

He tracks the mist to a seam in the coupling housing, wipes it back, and the smear shows clean metal beneath. The upgrade holds, but the fresh seal weeps a thin bead where it meets the manifold.

Ranuko leans in, feathers catching the red light, and Nahuli’s cleanup reveals a second mark, a hairline scuff where the upgraded coupling kissed the old housing under load.

Lahani gives a tired, approving huff, and the bay settles back into its steady hum. For the moment, the mess is under control, but the scuff sits there like a note waiting to be read.