Salvage Operation [Eitan]

[Stefan Dornkirk]

46th Ash, 122

Stefan's recently discovered cousin was off on his mission on the Noble Gambit to bring Stefan's greeting and peace offering to the Riverland fort commanders. There had been a complete breakdown in communication lines and the governmental messenger service following the events of Searing 34 so there was no knowing what shape the forts were in and, if they were perfectly in tact, if the commanders would be willing to take his orders any longer. The messages he had sent had been carefully concocted, mostly by Delia and Eitan with comments and suggestions by himself and Luca. They needed to show strength while also being honest and the best they had all agreed they could hope for was a willingness to cooperate. Every faction that had splintered out of the destruction of the capitol and its government would need to work together if they hoped to survive and eventually pull the country back into a whole. Without it things would denigrate into warring factions and any outside nation would be able pick off bits of Zaichaer at their will.

It might happen anyway, but not if anyone on the floating islands could help it. They would need to come up with an actual name for the two, soon to be three and needing at least two more besides, complex eventually. For now, they were the only flying islands in the country and the name didn't cause any confusion, so it would do.

It would only take a couple of days to reach the first fort and Private Dornkirk would need at least a week to get to all of them and speak to their commanders so there were a few days left in which operations around the city could continue. With that in mind he was heading down into his workshop to prepare and suite up in the mechanical armor he'd created for himself and Eitan so the pair of them, along with a salvage team and two smaller ships could investigate the ruins of what had once been the main military airfield.

The parts they could salvage therein would be needed if he was to accomplish his intention of getting the Academy off the ground, as well as any other new islands they decided to get airborne. The problem of land to grow food was a thing. The land surrounding the Dornkirk country estate was fertile enough, but without a large green house nothing would be grown until Glade. It was a problem for another day. Focusing on what he could do was important.

He met Eitan on the way down, at the last ladder that led into his experimental laboratory, which was also a ship hanger if need by. Last night had been... a lot, but he had woken in his wife's arms feeling, if not whole for the first time since the deaths of his family, like an actual person.

"Good morning." He said, though they had seen each other at breakfast, it just felt like what one said to a co-worker when you first saw them at the job. He did smile almost apologetically because he knew he was too formal a lot of the time, but Eitan understood.

They chatted about the mission ahead as they entered and adjusted the suits and then he fired up the communication array to let the two ships, The Schlucken and The Sky Eel, know that they were heading out and where to meet them. Over the months he had gotten much better with the maneuvering thrusters and it felt more natural to him than piloting an airship ever had.

The airfield, when it came into view, looked worse even than almost any other area of the city. The Presidium was the worst, but after that the combination of burned down buildings and airships damaged by a combination of the fires and crashing into the ground made it look like some sort of mechanical whale graveyard. He let Eitan decided where they would land and begin pulling parts out first. They would do the work inside the ships, leaving the salvage crew to load the pieces that were worth keeping onto the two ships and haul them back to the islands.

[Eitan Angevin]

"Good morning," Eitan replied, maddeningly chipper. He was, in fact, a great airman, and had no trouble rising with the dawn and getting to work. Whether that was some innate trait of his or something he had trained into himself, it was so—he only seemed to sleep in when there was someone in his bed with whom he wanted to linger.

Especially with the family matters somewhat settled, he was more optimistic about everything.

With greater experience with Onneifer Airfield, Eitan pointed out where best to land, and then let others handle the execution of his orders while he and Stefan stripped down a few layers of clothes before allowing their valets to help them into the mechanical suits. Between their helmets going on and their communications being established, he schooled his mind to caution. When he was in the armor, it was more difficult not to slide into those feelings of invincibility he had felt since he nearly died and nearly burning out his corrupting rune. All the same, having Stefan on an even keel made him feel more comfortable as well. His brother-in-law could get through to him if he was losing touch with reality.

Once the airship was hovering low enough, its loading bay opened, forming a ramp down to the ground. Then the armored men led the way to ground, followed by engineers, soldiers, Watchers, and witches. Onneifer was a salvage mission, but it remained dangerous. Sharpshooters lined the taffrails of the airships, keeping watch, and readying aim.

With luck, however, their suits would be used for heavy lifting and not absorbing the violence of the monsters created by the Kalzasern offensive.

Eitan really ought to have insisted that they have others train to use the powered armor suits. It was poor strategy for two leaders to be on the front lines like these, even with all due precautions taken. Yet he enjoyed these forays into the ruins of Zaichaer. It was a more visceral act of helping, made him feel more heroic.

"Very well. Let's start digging while the perimeter is secured."

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The first few steps in the suits still made Stefan feel like he was some sort of ancient, giant, legendary hero. Magical armor enhancing him until he could have wrestled down an Avialae easily, which was a reassuring thought however mundane their intended use of the machines was. They were machines, and that knowledge reasserted itself within the first minute of stepping out among the burned and wrecked carcasses of ships, many of which he had worked on or designed himself.

The Searing Victory was, as of yet, unaccounted for, as least as far as the Islands were aware of. It had been in the air at the time the mist storms had struck and there was no realistic chance it had survived, but Stefan was still glad it wasn't there on the ruined airfield. Seeing the ship he had designed for his brother a charred heap would have been like an echo of seeing...

Pulling his mind back to the task at hand was not as difficult as it would have been a month before, even a week before. It was becoming a reflex, something he did without having to really think about it, avoiding thinking about Brenner.

Moving to the first ship, which was not smoking any longer but still smelt of its own individual burn signature he made a hole in the side by pulling off a panel near what had been the belly section that held the engine and the latticework of dragonshards that had fueled and maintained its flight. The shards themselves should not have been damaged by the fire, and with luck they wouldn't have broken free and been lost in the crash. Some loss was expected, but how much wasn't something easily calculable. Once he had scouted the inside for dangers natural and unnatural, as well as testing the air and temperature for levels acceptable for unenhanced humans he signaled for the Order Semblers to come in and begin collecting the aetheric crystals. While they did so he climbed through looking for parts that were still, or could be returned to, operable.

The work was needed, and truly would be useful. The Windworks could return to its stated purpose if enough parts could be salvaged. New ships were needed, and they had both the expertise and trained workmen to build them, they just needed the supplies to do so.

[Eitan Angevin]

They had their armor and they had good people watching their backs. Eitan settled into the rhythm of the work, glad for the added engineering training he had received from Stefan when they had been planning their expedition into the Warrens with Brenner. Memories of Brenner didn't always sting, and this time, he wondered what would happen if Stefan installed the metal skeleton his friend had left behind into a suit like this, perhaps filled with some genius arrangement of blood and memory dragonshards, whether they could rebuild their loved one with the power of science and persistence.

Perhaps later he would ask, when it wasn't sure to send Stefan spiraling into a depression.

"Can dragonshards be corrupted by the Dread Mists?" he wondered aloud over their radio. When the Mists invaded the Warrens, it didn't seem to spoil the dragonshard harvests, but then rifts didn't usually open in the middle of the sky, spewing Mist and other Mistborn corruptions.

Today, they had the beginning of a flying city. The wonders of human innovation might know no limits except time and resources for all he knew. Eitan believed that was true, that humanity would rise and topple the self-proclaimed gods and lords of the Mists. Even now, they were industriously rebuilding from the ruins of their High City.

There was some commotion outside.

"Status report," he snapped.

"Refugees at the perimeter, sir."

"More survivors. Excellent." To Stefan, "Like your theories of evolution, eh? The strong survive, and the next generation of Zaichaer will be all the stronger for it."

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The idea that, somehow, through a combination of technology and use of natural aetheric resources there might be a way to bring Brenner back was one that had entered Stefan's mind. He had not allowed himself to contemplate it, shutting it down so automatically from entering his conscious processes that, if he had been asked, he would have said he hadn't considered it. His subconscious mind, however, was quietly working away, researching, asking questions, requesting information from the Order, all things which he could come up with logical reasons for doing, that might lead, in time, to something.

Because he was not thinking about his brother, Eitan's question, when it sounded through Stefan's helmet, he was not surprised or confused.

"As far as modern science has discovered, mists have no effect on shards." He hummed softly, unaware that it was something he did when he was concentrating on work that was delicate and physical but did not require much thought. When he had extracted the shard he was currently trying to extricate with his larger than natural grip he added,

"Before modern science it was believed that all dragonshards started out as Aetherite and that exposure to various elements and situations caused them to become the other types of shard. This has, of course, been proven false, but at that time they believed Prismatorium was created by exposing Aetherite to Dread Mists."

His tone was the same one he'd used while giving their lessons in engineering or anatomy. As much as he enjoyed setting up and experimenting with new ideas he loved reading about and understanding the, often erroneous, thought processes that had gotten them to where they were now. Not understanding the common fallacies of human thought was what lead to mistakes being repeated and while it was bound to happen, Stefan wanted to avoid it wherever possible. He was considering offering more info on dragonshards, since they were the most valuable and irreplaceable quarry they were after that day, but then the general channel crackled to life and Eitan's tone changed from student to captain.

He smiled, faintly, at the mention of evolution. The current situation felt like they had taken a theory and created an experiment as extreme as possible to test it to its limits. Even his child, unborn, had been forced to fight for her life on the night the 'experiment' had began. All who lived to tell their offspring of the events would have proof that they were fighters when the shit hit the exhaust fans, survivors proven.

A few words were said to a messenger to be sent back on a life-raft ship to explain the situation to Delia and her committee so they could prepare places and emergency care for the incoming refugees before he flipped back to his channel with his brother-in-law.

"Indeed. Our people were brass before, now, I imagine, we'll be steel."

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan listened attentively while he worked. They had spent enough time with Stefan as the instructor and he and Brenner the instructed that when Stefan took that professorial tone, his ears perked up to listen and his mind readied itself to be shown new wonders. He had a military man's education on magic, as well as a member of the Order. All the same, it was enlightening to hear from a man of pure science, cutting through superstition and supposition. Science could harness magic without being corrupted because science was not a person.

"Galvanized steel," he chimed in when the business of refugees had been sorted, or at least delegated.

"Tagging this engine. It's damaged, but parts could be cannibalized if not the whole thing. What's your opinion on the structure here? Is it safe to let the meat suits in?"

His metal avatar hands had peeled back sheets of steel to reveal the engine and make it available to whomever would be doing the next phase of work, and now he stood straight and tried to assess the structural integrity of the whole himself. They didn't want to lose any good men or women. Sacrifices would surely be made for the survival of the polis, but he was in the business of mitigating those losses.

If they both agreed that the structure was safe, they could move on and let more delicate hands do the delicate work. Onneifer had plenty of wrecks, but he wanted the remains of the fleet to serve the remains of the people. He already surmised they would not get to every wreck in one day, so time was of the essence. If necessary, he could ward certain wrecks to keep them relatively safe for later extraction, but the sooner they had spare parts, the safer the fleet would be and the sooner the Windworks could add to that fleet. The skyborn islands would be the new High City, so they needed to get as many citizens as possible aloft.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

When asked Stefan considered the structure and shook his head, which, in his helmet, no one would see.

"No, but, let me see if I can fix it."

Looking around he found a piece of steel girder that had detached from some higher part of the ship and fallen to what was now that floor. Lifting it in his mechanically strengthened hands he wedged it into place where it would support what was now the ceiling from collapsing, at least until it rusted.

"That should do it, you can call them in now." He marked the decking which the dragonshards that had once kept the ship in the air were now gathered on. There were engineers with the group skilled and knowledgeable enough to dismantle that latticework of aether without accidentally creating something dangerous but he'd done this first one himself out of caution. Just because the shards themselves were safe, should be safe, didn't mean that something else hadn't been corrupted by the mists and drawn to the magic. It seemed safe, but he intended to at least check each once before letting men protected by no more than uniforms and thick leather gloves face them.

As Eitan gave the command for the first team to come in the pair moved on to the next wreckage. Stefan recognized this one, a smaller ship, often used as a courier for messages to important or secret to be sent in ways that might be intercepted. It had been one of several of the class, which he'd helped design soon after returning from his time in the ZADC. He tried not to think about it, grateful that he'd never been the sort of keep tabs on who was flying which ship. Except the Noble Gambit and the Searing Victory, but the one was with the fleet serving the islands now, and the other was...

Well, he didn't know where the Searing Victory was, but Brenner had not been on it when it had gone missing. There was still hope that it was in the air, doing it's duty where it had been assigned, trying to save lives or defend the border. His love of the ship had always been associated with his brother, he had designed it for Brenner, after all, but that didn't stop him from hoping it, at least, had survived.

By his best estimation they might assess all the wrecks and, if his suspicions as to which were worth salvaging were correct, prep around half of them to be dismantled and taken back to the Windworks that day. Another day would have to be given over to the rest, but he was sure now that they would be able to find the time, even if it was after the trip to the Forts.

[Eitan Angevin]

After giving the order for the men and women on the ground that it was safe (enough) to enter, he made his exit with Stefan, and then to the next wreck. The class was not lost on him, and so he was quiet for some time. He would be glad to have the Searing Victory return to the fleet that was arguably under his command. There were still those who advised the remaining captains of the Zaichaer Air Defense Corps raise him to admiralty and the Reconciliators raise him to Sentinel, but that would be too much too fast. Then people would expect he was making some sort of coup to become Grand Marshal and High Sentinel, and while they did need strong leadership, he did think the more democratic structure they were working with was better for the time being.

Eventually, of course, he ought to be Sentinel of Zaichaer. Whether the Sentinels of the other city-states could be persuaded to make him High Sentinel or not was another matter. He could not worry about those politics until his people were safe and stable. At this point, the goals of his Order were secondary to his responsbilities to his people.

"I was hoping to find a mostly intact airship somehow," he admitted privately to Stefan. "I suppose the human lives are worth more, though. No. I know the human lives are worth more. But still, I hate that places like the Schiller are still necessary. We need to figure out how to deal with the rift." Of course, Stefan knew this. They had talked about it on and off since they managed to survive it. But they didn't allow themselves to show frustration around others, so the private channel between them became the place it spilled over.

"Sorry. I know you and Beeman and others are working on something, and we are doing what we can. It's just the same old... wishing I could somehow fix it in one fell swoop."

He settled for throwing a ragged bit of hull plating a bit harder and farther to the side than he needed to. Little vents of steam were healthy.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

That the worked in quiet for a while was lost on Stefan during the silence, for he was lost in his own thoughts. When Eitan did, at last, speak again, he pulled himself from the depths of his mind and glanced around at the little ship they were currently investigating.

"There is enough here intact to create several ships, and more than enough hands without work now that would cheer to see the Windworks reopen."

There had been so much work to do in the initial days and weeks after the disaster that he hadn't considered how little there would be when everyone was safe with a guarantee of food, shelter and survival through Frost. When the city had been whole the Windworks had run all year around, now the men who were so highly trained sat at home while their wives wove or knitted or sewed to see the group all that sufficient warm clothing and, come Glade, more than the rags the clothing they currently had were rapidly becoming. Men needed work, it was a concept Stefan firmly believed, for himself as much as any other, and depriving them of it was a cruelty he did not stomach well.

"Once we get anything delicate or still whole out we will start pulling the hulls apart, melting them down, recasting them. If you and the other captains can discuss what types of ships would be the most useful at your next meeting, I would be grateful for a report."

They needed ships to transport goods probably most of all at that exact moment, but it wouldn't take up nearly all the material they were gathering.

While, after the issue that caused the Schiller to be overrun they had gathered all the fighting men who had used it as a base and relocated them to the Islands, there were still several similar places around the city. Some had even cleared out several square blocks in the safer places, and Stefan had arranged for the refugees there to receive enough supplies to also survive the cold season.

As soon as planting could begin he intended to see every hand that could be put to work farming employed. Almost the entire force that had run the Windworks had survived and he would put them back to work as soon as they had enough material. For those who were not trained in either kind of work, a more grim task lay waiting. Frowning as he stepped from the current ship and looked for his next, he knew that he himself would be a part of that, at least a few times, however busy he was.

Parts of the city would be inhabitable, and there would be people to inhabit them, but they needed to be cleared out. Militarily, yes, but after that too. The dead needed seeing to. They would have to be burned, there was no other safe way to remove that many bodies. The pyres would cover the city in smoke, but it was the only way forward. Frost was the best season for such work, when the rot would be froze and the chance of infection tamped down. They ceremony of mourning and remembrance had already been held, but, he suspected, there would be others. The 34th would always be one such, so long as any citizens remained. Delia had collected information about where each person had lived and Stefan would not send someone to clean up their own old neighborhoods, not until all the dead were gone, at least. As strong as his people were, one could only walk into the home of a friend or a family member and find them mangled so many times before something broke inside.

"We'll rebuild the fleet." He said, belatedly, but still on the same topic, "We'll clear the airfield so it can be used again. We'll get it all back." His tone was not triumphant, or even hopeful, it was grim determination.

[Eitan Angevin]

"Aye, of course."

Eitan fell silent. While they were each one of the few people the other could vent to, they were also both cognizant of each other's stress load. Neither wanted to be the straw that broke the other's back. More than once since all this had happened, Eitan had created a bubble of silence around him so he could scream without worrying anyone.

They moved on to the next ship and they didn't even need to speak for the most part. The engineer had taught the officer more of engineering, and the officer had shared more of his experience on various vessels. They worked in tandem, laying open what could be quickly and easily removed. But, as Stefan had noted, they saved even the shreds of high-quality steel to be melted down and recast. It would be stronger for the Zaichaeri blood in the mix.

"Cargo ships, of course," he began out of nowhere, following the old thread of conversation. "But if we can establish regular trade with the Imperium or, better, our allies in Karnor, the cargo ships will come to us. Perhaps you ought to approve the Leukos woman's request to parlay. You said she had seemed reasonable and humanitarian. Their government may be our enemy, but if the best of them can help, I will be polite... if it means helping our people move from survival to living again. And I think a cutter for the Order. Capable of defending itself if necessary, but focusing on speed and perhaps stealth. I need to reach out to the other chapters of the Order, seek some aid for Beeman and the other scientists to understand what is happening and, hopefully, reverse it." He didn't mention that he needed to start moving to ensure the Zaichaeri chapter didn't lose its supremacy, nor incur judgment for integrating the coven survivors into their ranks.

"It ought to be adaptable, but not divert undue resources away from other necessities."

He laughed. "And perhaps make these suits personal aircraft as well?"