Sir Finley Balfour
08:53 CST
November 4, 2030
The Chaos Reckoning
Cedar Rapids, IA
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“Dammit, Stephan! I’ve nae got the faintest idea what’s wrong wi’ the Chaos Reckoning! It’s like the bloody ship’s cursed…” I growled into my cell phone.
“Finley,” Stephan’s tone was sharp, matching mine, “I don’t care if you need to pack up half your shop on board the damn ship and fix it in midair. We’re delayed, and we need all three ships in Knoxville by tomorrow.”
“Fine,” I snapped, raking a hand through my hair. “But I need tae stay on board while my team and I figure out what in hell’s name is wrong wi’ this infernal heap o’ bolts!”
“Dr. Volkova will take command of the Winter Luna, and I’ll take the Winter Solis. You focus on getting the Chaos Reckoning repaired.” Stephan’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
I huffed, hanging up without another word, then turned to face my team. “Ya heard the man! Grab every tool ye think we’ll need and get it loaded onto the Chaos Reckoning. We’ve nae got time tae waste. If it’s no’ essential, ye’ll learn tae live wi’out it.”
My engineers sprang into action, hauling toolboxes and equipment toward the ship in a flurry of motion. Within minutes, the hanger bay buzzed with the sound of rolling carts and clattering tools. Sighing, I strode to my workstation, grabbing the bare minimum I’d need tae troubleshoot the blasted systems once we were airborne.
By the time I reached the Chaos Reckoning, the vampires and my son’s pack had pitched in tae load the last of the gear. My irritation grew as I took in the ancient, patched-together dreadnaught. The damned ship should’ve been retired years ago, but Stephan and that insufferable Captain Edwards were dead set on keepin’ it in the air. Their stubbornness was the only thing older than the Reckoning herself.
As the last cart was secured, the captain’s voice crackled over the ship’s coms. “Sir Balfour, is your team ready to lift off?”
“Aye,” I growled, pressing the intercom button. “We’re ready tae go.”
The hanger bay doors rumbled shut as the ship’s engines roared tae life. Turning from the panel, I nearly tripped over a towering pile of bloody potatoes. The sight made me stop and stare for a moment, hands on my hips. Of all the cargo this old girl was haulin’, why in Luna’s name were we transportin’ spuds? I shook my head and pressed on, heading deeper into the ship.
The engineering bay was a picture of exhaustion and frustration. My team and the ship’s crew hunched over consoles and tools, their faces etched with weariness. The acrid tang of overheated circuits hung in the air, and the hum of struggling systems added a grating backdrop.
“Progress update?” I barked.
“Nothing—actually, it’s worse!” snapped the Chief Warrant Officer, throwing down a wrench in frustration. “Every time we make progress, some glitch sets us back. It’s like the ship’s fighting us.”
“Ah, fer cryin’ out loud,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. “That makes nae damn sense.”
“No shit,” the warrant officer bit back. “If it made sense, we wouldn’t still be stuck here.”
“Maybe if ye didn’t operate a ship that’s more patchwork than plan, we’d no’ be in this mess,” I shot back, my temper fraying.
The warrant officer straightened, his jaw tightening. “I’ll have you know this is one of the most advanced airships in the Free States’ fleet—”
“Spare me the sales pitch,” I cut him off, my voice rising. “I helped build this ship twenty years ago, and I’ve modified her more times than I care tae count. If there’s one man alive who knows her better than anyone, it’s me.”
The crew froze, their attention flicking between us. The warrant officer hesitated, then stepped back, his expression stiff. Satisfied, I addressed the group. “If any o’ ye’ve been at this fer more than eight hours, get out! I need fresh eyes and hands. Go get some rest before ye keel over.”
The clatter of tools and heavy boots filled the bay as the tired engineers shuffled out. Most of them looked ready tae drop. Good. I’d no’ have accidents on my watch. As I turned tae face the remaining team, the warrant officer opened his mouth again.
“You can’t just dismiss my crew like you—”
I turned sharply, my eyes flashing vivid blue as my voice dropped to a growl. “Do ye really want tae test me right now, lad? Ye need an expert tae fix this heap, and I am that expert. Either stand aside and let me do my job, or get outta my sight.”
His face paled, and he backed away as though he’d seen a ghost. Or, perhaps, a beast. I watched him retreat, biting back the primal urge tae chase him. Turning back tae my team, I took a deep breath and let the tension drain from my shoulders.
“All right,” I said, my voice steady again. “Let’s get tae work.”
Several hours passed, and nothing had changed. I sat glaring at the environmental system, the infernal contraption mocking me with its silence. This was a system I’d designed and engineered from the ground up. I knew every nut, bolt, and circuit inside it. So why, for the love of Luna, was it no’ bloody working?
“Beta Balfour,” one of my engineers called, his voice tinged with worry. “I’ve rerouted power through every connection you mentioned, but there’s no response.”
I crossed my arms, my jaw tight, and kept my eyes locked on the machine as though sheer willpower could make it talk. “What’re the diagnostic codes it’s givin’ ye?” I demanded.
“That’s the thing, sir,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “The computer says the environmental system’s online and fully operational. It makes no sense.”
A low growl rumbled in my throat as I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing. “Aye, it’s mockin’ us now, is it? Thinkin’ it can lie tae me.” I shifted my jaw side to side, the movement slow and deliberate. “We’ll have tae open her up and jump the circuit manually. Need tae make sure the machine itself’s no’ the problem.”
The engineer’s face paled slightly. “Sir, that means shutting down the entire ship.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“No’ necessarily,” I replied sharply, pulling my tablet from my belt. I tapped through schematics, zooming in on the section between the hydrogen production bay and the engineering bulkhead. “The circuit box is tucked right here—between the bulkhead and the environmental system. If we cut through this access panel, we can reach it without powering down.”
He hesitated, glancing nervously at the schematics. “Sir, that panel’s reinforced. If there’s even a small hydrogen leak, cutting through could set the whole bay off like a star-damned firecracker.”
I grunted, acknowledging the risk without conceding. “Aye, I’m aware. But if the problem’s mechanical, we’ll be wastin’ time pullin’ the system apart without checkin’ first.”
The engineer straightened his shoulders, his tone steady. “With all due respect, Beta, it’s not worth the risk. If we’re wrong and it is the system, we’d be safer pulling it out with the ship powered down. There’s no margin for error here.”
I gave him a hard look but nodded slightly. “Fair enough. But ye’re so certain it’s a software issue—why?”
“Therein lies the kicker, sir.” He pointed to the schematics, his tone resolute. “The software says the system’s online, fully operational. But we know it’s not working. If it were mechanical and there was an issue, the software’d spit out error codes.”
I frowned, leaning closer. “So, what ye’re sayin’ is this: the software thinks the system’s workin’ perfectly, so it’s no’ givin’ us errors. But since we know the system’s no’ operational, the problem’s the communication between the software and the hardware?”
He nodded. “Exactly, sir. The physical system could be fine, but if the software’s not talking to it—or vice versa—then we’ll never see the problem.”
I exhaled sharply, staring at the schematics like they held the answer to an ancient riddle. “Bloody hell. It’s like fightin’ a hydra blindfolded. All right, then—draw up a plan tae pull the system. If we’re doin’ it, we’ll do it proper.”
If what Scotty was sayin’ was right, then we’d have to dig into the bloody software code. I took a deep breath, already bracing for the hours of mind-numbing scrolling ahead. “Scotty, I’ll need coffee and a sandwich. Go fetch them, will ye, while I get started?”
“Certainly, Beta Balfour,” he replied, setting down his tools and heading for the door.
Just as he turned to leave, the intercom in the engineering bay crackled to life. Captain Edwards’ voice came through, clipped and formal. “Sir Balfour, please report to the bridge for a meeting.”
I closed my eyes, a low growl building in my throat. Of all the blasted times… A Luna-damned meeting with Edwards was the last thing I needed. What could he possibly want now? “Scotty, hold off on the coffee. Grab the team and start diggin’ into the code. Let’s see if ye can find anything before I get back.”
“Aye, sir,” he said, already pulling his laptop off his tool cart and diving into the task.
Shaking my head, I left the engineering bay and strode down the corridor toward the bridge. My thoughts swirled with annoyance as I rounded a corner—and nearly ran straight into my son, Cameron.
“My boy!” I said, my frustration momentarily forgotten. “Good tae see ye!”
“Hi, Dad,” he replied, his tone amused. “What brings you up here?”
“Your illustrious captain’s summoned me tae a meeting,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes.
“Huh, that’s interesting,” Cameron mused. “He called me, too. I figured it was about the upcoming celebration.”
“This ‘celebration’ is becoming a right thorn in my side,” I said with a dry chuckle. “First it was pies and ice cream. Now it’s bloody potatoes. And why, in Luna’s name, are we haulin’ taters in a stealth dreadnaught? This is no’ some backwoods freighter.”
Cameron laughed lightly. “Honestly, I stopped questioning these things a long time ago. Just go with the flow.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I replied, shaking my head.
We reached the bridge in no time, where Captain Edwards stood waiting, along with that infernal warrant officer. My eyes narrowed the moment I saw him. The smug git. Of course, he’d run crying tae his captain.
Cameron glanced at me, then at the warrant officer, then back again. He knew me too well. He could see the storm brewing and wisely stayed quiet.
“Sir Balfour. Alpha Balfour,” Captain Edwards began, gesturing toward the nearby conference room. “Would the two of you join me, please?”
Without a word, I turned on my heel and marched into the room. A long table dominated the space, and sitting on it was a plate of sandwiches and a thermos of coffee, complete with mugs. At least Edwards knew how tae soften a blow. Pulling out a chair, I sat down and grabbed a mug, pouring myself a generous helping of the black gold.
Cameron slid into the chair beside me, his expression calm but watchful. Across from us, Edwards poured his own coffee, while the warrant officer sat down with a smug look plastered on his face. The way his lips curled, like he thought he’d already won, made my jaw clench.
Leaning back in my chair, I took a sip of my coffee, letting the tension simmer in the air. I wasn’t about tae make this easy for them.
“So, the reason I called the two of you to this meeting is to discuss the situation that occurred in my engineering bay,” Captain Edwards began after taking a sip of his coffee.
“What of it?” I asked, setting my mug down with a soft click, the sound reverberating like a warning.
“Well, first, I want to clarify why I asked your son to join us,” Edwards continued, his tone carefully measured. “He has, on numerous occasions, spoken highly of you—not just as an engineer, but as a father. With that in mind, your reputation precedes you. I’m very familiar with your work, particularly your accomplishments with this ship.”
I lifted my mug slightly in acknowledgment before setting it back down. “Thank ye,” I said flatly.
“My concern,” he said, his eyes flicking to the warrant officer, “is how you treated my chief engineer earlier.”
“Oh, ye mean how I dismissed everyone who’d been workin’ on the environmental system fer hours without proper breaks? Or how your warrant officer decided tae argue wi’ me—the man who designed and built the bloody system—about givin’ his crew a chance tae rest before they made fatal mistakes?” My words came sharp and fast, each one slicing through the warrant officer’s smugness like a blade. His smile crumbled into a sour scowl, and it was a sight that nearly made me grin.
Edwards took a slow sip of his coffee, raising an eyebrow at the warrant officer as though daring him to respond. “Those are very valid points, Sir Balfour,” he said, lowering his mug.
“All because you have some valid points doesn’t give you the right to come into my engineering bay and kick me and my crew out!” the warrant officer snapped, his voice rising with indignation.
Edwards turned his head, shooting his chief engineer a glare that clearly said, Shut your mouth before you make it worse. The man, oblivious to subtlety, plowed on.
“This is a military ship, and you’re a civilian! We’re in charge here, not you.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Cameron’s shoulders shaking, his lips twitching as he struggled to keep a straight face. The lad was doing his best, but the sheer absurdity of the warrant officer’s words was too much.
“What’s so damned funny, Alpha Balfour?” the warrant officer snapped, his tone dripping with disgust.
Edwards opened his mouth to intervene, but I gave him a small shake of my head. I wasn’t about tae stop this. The captain took the hint, leaned back in his chair, and took another sip of coffee, clearly curious tae see how things would unfold.
Cameron finally composed himself enough tae reply. “What’s funny,” he said, his voice steady and sharp, “is that you’ve no idea who you’re dealing with. My father’s the most powerful being on this ship. Period. And I was just a kid when he worked on the Titan Class airframe—on this very ship, back when it was the Death Reckoning. I’ve got a model of her sitting in my room tae this day. If there’s anyone qualified tae repair this vessel, it’s him.”
Right on cue, warm air began to flow into the conference room. Cameron sat back, the smallest of smiles on his lips as if he knew the timing couldn’t have been better.
A moment later, the intercom crackled to life. “Beta Balfour, we managed to solve the issue,” came Scotty’s voice, tinged with relief.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms and locking eyes with the warrant officer. My expression spoke volumes, a smugness radiating from me that was impossible to miss.
“Ye see, lad,” I began, my voice quiet but firm, “there’s a reason my reputation precedes me. And while ye clearly dinnae respect it, there’s another legacy ye should be aware of.” I leaned forward slightly, my voice dropping to a near growl. “Long before I was an engineer, I had another name. A legend, if ye will. The Beast of Gévaudan.”
The warrant officer’s eyes widened, his face going pale as I let the weight of my words sink in. “Aye,” I continued, my voice cold and deliberate, “the tales are true, and they’re no’ as pretty as the songs make them sound. So, the next time ye think tae challenge me, remember that I’ve spent centuries dealin’ wi’ fools far more dangerous than you.”
The warrant officer swallowed hard, his arrogance dissolving into silence. Edwards stared at me for a long moment before giving the faintest nod, as though he, too, understood now.
With a satisfied hum, I stood and adjusted my jacket. “Now, if ye’ll excuse me, I’ve got work tae finish—and a ship tae keep airborne.”