[center][h2]The Big Build[/h2][/center]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/r3q3mm5.png[/img]
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Part 1 of a JP/Collab from [@Xandrya], [@Gunther], [@Bugman], [@wanderingwolf], and [@sail3695]  

For any whose course might err upon it, Cortex Relay Station K-29B was a formidable looking sphere, roughly the size of the Grand Stadium on Osiris.  K-29B is unique; her sister stations are all rather unremarkable small asteroids fitted out with the necessary datacom transceivers and positioning thruster systems to hold them fast in their far flung postings.  The reason for this stark difference lies in recent history.  The original station K-29 was discovered to have been remotely accessed by the hacker known as “Mr. Universe.”  His administrator link permitted an upload of the now infamous [b]Miranda Broadwave[/b] which 29A’s corrupted systems propagated throughout the entire network, much to the embarrassment of the Alliance.  

In the timeless tradition of men in power, the Alliance reacted swiftly, bombarding the cortex with misinformation and conspiracy theories concerning the Miranda drug trials, explaining away the resulting Reavers as merely a bogeyman created by Browncoats to mask their terrorist acts, and culminating in the public arrest and execution of a number of said Browncoat “Reavers.”  Station K-29B was constructed as a symbol of steely resolve, its’ state of the art data management infrastructure and firewalls impervious behind an equally hardened outer hull that none would dare approach, let alone attempt to breach.    

Of course, the designers weren’t counting on S.A.M.A.N.T.H.A.

China Doll hovered in the great sphere’s lee. Occasionally, her thrusters would fire, just the lightest touch to offset the gravity of the larger station.  At the current phase of her truss build, she resembled a large insect, six legs angling down from hard points on the hull.

Suited figures moved about, busy at their tasks.  Elias and Cap’n had already begun welding.  Thanks to the mechanic’s suggestion of adding pipes as stiffening cantilevers, they’d been able to simply bolt the truss joints to their hinge plates and then weld to precut pipe lengths…a move that was going to save them a full day’s labor. For his part, Elias kept true to form. It would be annoying perhaps, the constant droning of his text-to-speech device or his frantic hand signals and scratching of his whiteboard. Constant demands to make sure the parts were clean almost to the level of hospital sterility to ensure impurities wouldn’t become vulnerabilities, and he inspected every supposedly complete bit to ensure the weld had gone deep enough to make sure the integrity wasn’t compromised. If it was, he’d immediately demand the job not be half-assed. 

Imani finally left the med bay in its previous state prior to her arrival and some routine work; pristine and ready for patients should someone require her services. It was Yuri the first body she came across with a clipboard, so it was he who would advise what needed to be done, or at least, that's what she thought. 

"Anything I can do to help expedite the process?" She walked up from behind Yuri, and Imani could have sworn she had startled him from the slightest movement on his part. With a smile, she circled around the first mate. "I'm all caught up on my end and would rather not sit around twiddling my fingers.”

He’d been in the bulky EV suit for hours, gliding relentlessly through the black from one side of the boat to the other to oversee the skeletal fingers of truss which were now beginning to curl downward and beneath her hull.  Fueled by Edina’s breakfast and at least four cups of coffee, Yuri’s excitement over seeing this part of the job come to fruition had overridden not only his better judgment, but the capacity of his bladder, to boot.  Now, after a desperate rush back inside, he stood outside the lav, wrestling his way back into the suit.

“Oh…oh,” Yuri gave a mild start at the sound of Imani’s voice from behind.  He turned, his smile a mix of sheepish good humor.  “Shiny, Doc.  We could use your hands on a socket driver.  Come on, we’ll get you suited up.”

“Izzy, stow your gear. We should check out the ship. I'd like to meet with Edina in the galley.” Izzy was slow to move, lazing about with a cortex playing some mindless game. “Izzy! Move!” Her mother stared at her. The girl looked back in contempt. She laid the cortex on a small table. With a shrugged, slumped shoulder she trudged toward the hatchway. Her mother preceded her heading to the galley.

The couple walked in, “hello, anyone here?”

“In here!”  A muffled voice cried out from behind the pantry hatch, followed by a resounding crash and clatter of all make and manner of tumble.  “I’m okay!” Edina shouted next, before appearing with very heavy, very deep skillet.  “Hey,” she laughed, “it’s Protein Paste Taco Tuesday.  Broken bones are extra!”.

“Well, now that was quite an introduction,” Penny stated smiling. “My name is Penny. Penny Abernathy and this is my daughter, Isabella. But everyone calls her Izzy.” Penny motioned toward her 11-year old daughter, then held out her hand to shake.

“Edina Wyman,” she returned the smile as both women clasped hands.  “It’s a pleasure.  You too, Isabella.”  The galley hand’s gaze fixed upon the standoffish girl.  “How would you like to be addressed?  You can call me Edina or Eddie, whichever one you like.”

Izzy looked at Edina and stated sheepishly, “Izzy.”

“Do you need any help? I know my way around a kitchen, or in this case, a galley.”

With an energetic nod, Edina moved toward the cupboard.  “Sure can.”  She produced a large cutting board and a rolling pin, before turning toward the icebox.  “Time to make the taco shells.  The masa’s all ready,” she said, pulling a sizeable mixing bowl into the light.  “If you guys can roll ‘em ouit, I’ll get the oil hot.”

“I believe this is something we can handle,” Penny replied. “Izzy, wash your hands and get some flour.” Izzy and Penny both scrubbed their hands at the sink with soap and warm water, then dried them off with a nearby dish towel. Izzy hefted a canister filled with flour. Penny laid the cutting board out on the table and then grabbed a scoop of flour from the canister Izzy had carried. She spread the flour over the board with her hand. “It is best to spread dry flour out on the board first as it prevents the mix from sticking to the board. It makes the process of rolling it out so much easier.”

Izzy watched her mom set up the board and spread the flour. “Can I roll the mix?” Izzy asked her mom, wanting to get more involved in what they were doing.

“Yes, of course you can,” Penny smiled at her daughter. She was happy she volunteered to do it. The girl had appeared off since they came aboard ship. Penny was sure it was because she was in a new place and didn’t know anyone. She just needed to meet some of the crew. It would be great if there was someone her age on board, but even a younger woman, closer to her age would do nicely.

Penny watched her daughter as she rolled out the taco shells into usable sheets. She looked up at Edina, how long have you been aboard this ship?”

“About two years,” Edina replied before laughing softly at herself.  “First time I’ve given it thought,” she shook her head as she watched tiny heat bubbles form at the bottom of the oil.  “Guess I just kinda settled right in there.  How about you?” she asked the newcomers by way of making conversation.  “Got a destination in mind, or are you a pair of free spirits?”

“I’d say we were a little of both,” Penny responded, not thinking about where they were heading. “We were in a bind at that place the captain picked us up at. We needed leave, like yesterday.” Penny looked down at the work Izzy was performing. “Spread it out more, sweetie,” she said to her daughter then looked back up to Edina. “I guess I need to figure out where we are heading. For now, this will have to be home. I guess I'd like to get back to the inner planets one of these days. I have some business to attend to eventually, but that can wait.”

[b]TO BE CONTINUED…[/b]