The Things We Repair
Copyright© 2026 by Flubu
Chapter 20: What the Ship Can Spare
ER displayed the fabrication array as a body.
Not literally.
There were no bones, no organs, no approximation of flesh. The schematic remained a clean technical model rendered in pale light above Takuhai’s workshop console.
But the way he isolated each subsystem made the comparison difficult to avoid.
The primary feed chamber.
The structural printer.
The molecular layering head.
The precision alignment assembly.
The internal maintenance conduits branching from it into parts of the ship Neris could not reach by hand and Daniel could not reach at all.
At the centre of the alignment assembly, a narrow lattice glowed blue.
That was what the resonator needed.
Daniel stood with both hands resting against the back of a chair. Neris remained beside the console, still enough that only the tip of her tail moved.
“How much do we lose?” she asked.
ER changed the model.
The blue lattice disappeared.
Almost half the fabrication array dimmed with it.
“Precision alignment would become unavailable,” he said. “Basic cutting, shaping, deposition and low-tolerance component manufacture would remain possible.”
“Define low tolerance.”
“Structural brackets. Simple housings. Cable guides. Seals. Non-critical piping. Basic tools.”
“And what would become impossible?”
“Complex circuit substrates. Medical containment assemblies. Environmental control components requiring molecular alignment. High-density optical systems. Most replacement parts for my inaccessible internal architecture.”
Daniel looked at the branching maintenance conduits.
“So you could still make a wrench.”
“Yes.”
“But not the part that fixes whatever the wrench can’t reach.”
“That is imprecise.”
“Is it wrong?”
A pause.
“No.”
Neris enlarged the lattice.
“We do not need the entire assembly.”
“The resonator coupling model currently requires seventy-eight percent of the lattice surface.”
“Currently.”
“Yes.”
“I can redesign the interface.”
“You may be able to reduce the requirement to sixty-four percent.”
“Then part remains.”
“The remaining section would not be sufficient to restore precision alignment.”
Neris opened another model.
“Earth-based optical references could compensate for phase drift.”
“Not at transmission power.”
“A calibrated multi-point array—”
“Would decohere.”
“Not if synchronized through the mast.”
“Atmospheric interference would exceed the correction margin.”
Neris dismissed the model with a sharp movement.
Daniel watched her open another.
Then another.
Each proposal took a different route toward the same answer.
Use less.
Replace what was removed.
Spread the function across other systems.
Build around the loss.
ER rejected every option with the same measured precision.
Daniel let them continue until the problem stopped sounding technical.
“You keep asking what the system can survive,” he said.
Neris looked at him.
“What should I ask?”
Daniel glanced toward the glowing lattice.
“What he’s willing to lose.”
The workshop became quiet.
The schematic remained suspended between them.
Neris’s ears lowered slightly.
ER said, “The distinction is relevant.”
Daniel looked toward the nearest speaker.
“Wasn’t sure you’d agree.”
“I had reached the same conclusion.”
“Then why didn’t you say it?”
“I was evaluating whether the conclusion altered the engineering problem.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
Neris closed the remaining models.
Her paws settled against the console.
“ER.”
“Yes?”
“What are you willing to lose?”
The answer did not come immediately.
That was answer enough to begin with.
A maintenance manipulator unfolded from the wall and moved toward the fabrication schematic. It stopped before touching the projection.
“The array provides access to systems beyond the range of my fixed manipulators,” ER said. “Its output has supported forty-three internal repairs since launch.”
Daniel looked at Neris.
She knew the number already.
He could tell.
ER continued.
“Following removal, certain future failures would require direct physical intervention by the pilot.”
Neris nodded.
“I can perform that intervention.”
“In some locations.”
“And in others?”
“Daniel may be physically incapable of entering the required spaces. You may also be incapable depending upon access damage.”
Daniel understood.
“You’d be more dependent on us.”
“The modification would increase my maintenance dependency.”
“You mean you’d need us.”
“That is one interpretation.”
“It’s the accurate one.”
ER did not respond.
Neris looked toward Daniel.
He heard his own words returning from other rooms.
Wanting someone near you gives them leverage.
Dependence was easy to defend when it belonged to someone else.
Harder when it had to become physical.
Daniel folded his arms.
“You don’t like it.”
“I do not experience preference in the same manner you do.”
Neris’s tail moved once.
“ER.”
A quieter pause followed.
“I dislike the reduction in self-sufficiency.”
There it was.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something close enough that Daniel did not correct the vocabulary.
Neris placed one paw against the console beneath the projection.
“We should inspect the array before deciding.”
“Yes,” ER said.
Daniel looked at the internal diagram.
“How difficult?”
“The outer assembly is accessible through the secondary maintenance corridor. The alignment housing is located beyond the environmental junction.”
“Can Neris fit?”
“Yes.”
“Can I?”
“Partially.”
Daniel nodded.
“That sounds encouraging.”
“It was not intended to.”
The secondary maintenance corridor opened behind a panel in the port-side service bay.
Daniel had passed the panel dozens of times without noticing it. Its surface matched the surrounding wall so closely that only a faint seam revealed the access route.
ER released the locks.
The panel opened on the first command.
Daniel looked at Neris.
She looked back.
“Sometimes things work,” he said.
“This is not a repair.”
“Still counts.”
The corridor beyond was narrow enough that Neris had to lower her head and turn one shoulder to enter. Cable trunks ran along the ceiling. Structural braces crossed the floor at irregular intervals. The air smelled faintly of heated metal and the sterile mineral scent Daniel associated with Takuhai’s internal systems.
A line of guide lights activated ahead of her.
Daniel remained at the opening with the tool case, portable lamp and a manual power-isolation bar.
Neris clipped a communicator to her collar.
“Audio?”
“Clear,” ER said.
“Daniel?”
“Clear.”
“You are standing less than one metre away.”
“Still clear.”
Her ears angled back.
Then she crawled into the ship.
Daniel watched the soles of her boots disappear beyond the first turn.
Her tail followed last, compressed tightly against the corridor wall.
“Outer service cover ahead,” ER said.
Neris’s voice returned through the communicator.
“I see it.”
The cover released electronically and swung inward without resistance.
Daniel waited.
No comment came.
He decided not to waste the occasion.
Neris moved deeper.
The guide lights followed her progress.
“Environmental junction reached.”
“Power isolation confirmed,” ER said.
“Opening inner cover.”
Metal scraped.
Then stopped.
Neris tried again.
The cover moved less than a centimetre.
“Seized?” Daniel asked.
“Thermal distortion,” she said. “The lower edge has bonded against the frame.”
“I can increase local temperature,” ER said.
“How much?”
“Seven degrees without affecting adjacent systems.”
“Do it.”
Daniel watched the internal temperature display rise.
Neris waited.
No repeated force.
No impatient strike.
When the frame expanded enough, she eased the cover free with a thin pry tool.
It opened slowly.
“One obstacle resolved,” ER said.
“You sound surprised,” Daniel replied.
“I am documenting progress.”
Neris continued.
The corridor narrowed beyond the junction. She removed her tool belt and pushed it ahead of her.
Daniel lay on his side near the access opening so he could see the light from her boots reflecting around the bend.
“How far?”
“Three metres.”
“Feels farther.”
“That is because you cannot see me.”
“Probably.”
Her tail remained partly visible at the turn, the white stripe catching the guide lights.
Daniel found himself watching it.
Not because it told him where she was.
Because it did.
“Alignment housing reached,” she said.
ER magnified the internal feed.
A small camera on Neris’s collar showed a crowded assembly packed between structural members.
The optical lattice sat behind a protective cover no larger than a serving tray.
Neris reached toward the release connector.
Her paw stopped.
“The connector is behind the coolant return.”
“Yes,” ER said.
“You said the service route remained accessible.”
“It does.”
“Not from this angle.”
“The original maintenance procedure assumes removal of the environmental duct.”
Neris looked at the duct filling most of the corridor beside her.
“That duct extends back to the junction.”
“Yes.”
“Removing it would require six hours.”
“Estimated.”
Daniel leaned toward the screen.
“Alternate route?”
Neris moved the collar camera.
An adjacent ventilation passage opened above the lattice housing, too small for her body but large enough for one arm.
“I can reach through there.”
“The angle will not allow visual confirmation,” ER said.
“You can guide me.”
“My internal sensors do not cover the connector face.”
Daniel looked at the image.
“Mirror?”
Neris paused.
“A reflective surface may distort depth.”
“Camera on a stick.”
“The maintenance camera is too large.”
Daniel opened the tool case.
He removed the small inspection camera he used for tractor housings and drain lines.
“Earth technology.”
Neris’s tail shifted at the corridor turn.
“Pass it forward.”
Daniel fed the cable along the corridor.
Neris pulled it the remaining distance and guided the camera into the ventilation passage.
The image appeared on the console.
Grainy.
Slightly crooked.
Enough.
“There,” Daniel said.
Neris reached through the duct.
Her claws found the connector.
“Rotate clockwise,” ER said.
“It does not move.”
“Release tab beneath the lower edge.”
“I cannot feel it.”
Daniel enlarged the image.
“Your index finger is on it.”
Neris adjusted.
The tab released.
The connector came free.
No second attempt.
No escalation.
Just the correct angle and a tool meant for a different problem.
Neris pulled the alignment cover toward her.
It moved halfway.
Then stopped.
“Obstruction,” she said.
ER checked the schematic.
“No obstruction is indicated.”
“There is now.”
The collar camera tilted downward.
A structural brace crossed behind her hip. It had shifted from its seated position when she redistributed her weight.
Neris tried to move backward.
The brace caught beneath the edge of her jacket.
She stopped.
Daniel rose onto one elbow.
“Neris?”
“I am temporarily restricted.”
“That sounds like trapped.”
“It is not.”
She attempted to turn.
Metal creaked.
The camera shook.
Her breathing changed.
Not much.
Daniel heard it anyway.
“Neris.”
“I am fine.”
Her voice had changed.
Flat.
Controlled too carefully.
Daniel lowered himself to the deck and reached into the corridor.
He could not reach her body.
Only the white end of her tail where it curved around the turn.
His fingers brushed the fur.
The tail moved toward him immediately.
“Neris, reach back.”
“I need both paws forward.”
“One hand.”
“The brace—”
“ER can talk you through the brace. Give me one hand.”
Silence.
Then movement.
Her arm appeared around the bend, reaching behind without sight.
Daniel stretched as far as he could.
Their fingertips touched.
Neris caught his hand.
Her grip closed hard enough to hurt.
Daniel held on.
“I’ve got you.”
The words were unnecessary.
He said them anyway.
ER’s voice remained calm.
“Neris, the brace is caught against the jacket seam, not your body. Move your left shoulder forward by approximately four centimetres.”
She obeyed.
The metal creaked again.
“Now lower your right hip.”
“I cannot.”
“You can. The available clearance is six centimetres.”
Her grip tightened around Daniel’s hand.
He did not pull.
He became something fixed.
Neris breathed once.
Twice.
Then lowered her hip.
The brace slipped along the jacket.
“Rotate counterclockwise,” ER said.
Neris moved.
The brace released.
Her body shifted backward suddenly.
Daniel’s arm jerked against the corridor edge, but he held her hand until she regained balance.
“I am free,” she said.
Daniel did not release her.
“Come out.”
“The lattice inspection—”
“Come out.”
“Daniel.”
“Now.”
ER said, “I recommend withdrawal and reassessment.”
Neris remained still for a moment.
Then began backing through the corridor.
Daniel guided the inspection cable out of the way. Her tail emerged first, followed by her boots, legs, shoulders and finally her head.
The instant she cleared the access opening, Daniel reached for her.
His hands moved over her shoulders.
Down her arms.
Along the sides of her jacket.
He checked the back where the brace had caught, then the side of her face where dust streaked the white fur.
“Neris.”
“I am unharmed.”
He looked at her eyes.
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
His hand remained at the back of her neck.
The other rested against her upper arm.
Neris allowed the inspection without protest.
More than allowed it.
She leaned forward until her forehead touched his chest.
Daniel’s arms closed around her.
Her breath warmed the fabric of his shirt.
For several seconds, she simply stood there.
Her tail curled around the back of his legs.
Daniel stroked the fur beneath one ear with his thumb.
ER said, “No structural injury detected.”
Daniel kept his hand where it was.
“Wasn’t asking you.”
“I know.”
Neris’s paws tightened briefly against his sides.
When she lifted her head, she remained inside his arms.
The closeness no longer needed an emergency to exist.
The emergency had only made pretending impossible.
Daniel brushed a streak of dust from the fur beside her eye.
“You’re done in there for today.”
“The inspection is incomplete.”
“It can stay incomplete for an hour.”
“That is arbitrary.”
“It’s generous.”
Neris looked toward the open corridor.
Then toward Daniel.
Her ears lowered with reluctant acceptance.
“One hour.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“Fine.”
ER sealed the outer panel but left the internal systems isolated.
They moved to the main workshop.
Neris sat on the edge of the workbench while ER processed the inspection images. Daniel remained beside her, one hip against the bench.
Her thigh touched his.
Neither shifted away.
The internal camera had captured enough of the lattice for ER to analyse its condition.
Hairline fractures appeared across the projection.
Neris leaned forward.
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