The Things We Repair
Copyright© 2026 by Flubu
Chapter 23: The Signal Window
Neris inspected the family message fourteen times before breakfast.
Daniel knew because ER told him.
Not immediately.
ER waited until Daniel entered Takuhai carrying two mugs of coffee and found Neris seated at the main console with the final transmission packet open above her.
The same thirty words glowed in the personal-data segment.
TERAL, THE SEQUENCE WAS WRONG. LYSA, YOU CHANGED THE TEMPO ON PURPOSE. TELL HER THE COURIER CUP WENT FARTHER THAN PROMISED. I AM ALIVE. I AM TRYING TO COME HOME.
Daniel placed one mug beside her.
“Anything change?”
“No.”
“Then why are you still reading it?”
“I may discover an error.”
ER answered through the nearest speaker.
“The pilot has reviewed the segment fourteen times without modification.”
Neris’s ears shifted.
“That count was unnecessary.”
“It was accurate.”
“It was also unnecessary.”
Daniel sat beside her.
Her tail crossed his thigh almost immediately, settling there with familiar weight.
He rested one hand in the fur.
“Thirty words,” he said.
“Errors do not require length.”
“No.”
She read the line again.
Daniel drank his coffee.
The transmission window remained thirty-one hours away when they had finished the calibration test. By morning, twenty-three hours remained.
The final packet waited in eight protected archives.
Registry.
Survival data.
Anomaly signature.
Earth’s phase location.
Warning.
Request for acknowledgment.
Daniel’s designation.
Household.
Family.
Nothing more could be added without weakening something that mattered.
Nothing could be removed without making the message feel less true.
ER shifted the display to the packet-integrity report.
“No corruption detected.”
Neris did not close the family segment.
Daniel watched her eyes move over the words.
“You don’t have to make it perfect.”
“Yes, I do.”
“They only have to know it’s you.”
“That requires precision.”
“It requires you.”
Her ears lowered slightly.
Daniel continued.
“Teral isn’t going to reject the message because one sentence could’ve been phrased better.”
“She may correct the sequence.”
“Apparently that’s what she does.”
The corner of Neris’s muzzle shifted.
Only a little.
She closed the packet.
“Cattle,” she said.
Daniel nodded.
“Cattle.”
They left Takuhai shortly after sunrise.
The air had cleared after the storm. Snow lay blue in the shadows and white where the low sun reached it. Smoke rose from the farmhouse chimney in a thin straight column.
The farm looked restored from a distance.
Up close, the storm remained everywhere.
Snow packed against the lower shelter walls. Drifts buried fence corners and half the service road. A broken spruce limb leaned across the edge of the western field. Ice clung to the weather mast despite the heated optical plate.
Daniel started the tractor.
Neris climbed into the passenger side with her injured arm held close. The shoulder had improved overnight, but not enough for full movement.
Daniel looked at the support wrap beneath her coat.
“How is it?”
“Functional.”
“Neris.”
“Pain level three while resting. Five during lifting.”
“Better.”
“Yes.”
“Still no overhead work.”
“I remember.”
“Good.”
Her tail compressed awkwardly between the seats.
Daniel reached behind her and freed the fur caught beneath the edge of the seatback.
Neris looked toward him.
“Thank you.”
He rested his hand briefly at her waist before returning to the controls.
The engine settled into its rough idle.
ER connected through the dashboard tablet.
“Transmission window estimate remains stable.”
Neris checked the timer.
22:41:18
“You will notify us if the precursor changes?”
“Yes.”
“If power conditions vary?”
“Yes.”
“If the lattice stress model—”
“Yes.”
Daniel shifted the tractor into gear.
“He knows.”
Neris looked at him.
“I am confirming.”
“You confirmed five minutes ago.”
“Conditions change.”
“So does his patience.”
“I do not experience impatience,” ER said.
Daniel drove toward the feed yard.
Mabel struck the solid gate panel.
Clang.
ER added, “I do, however, recognize repetition.”
Neris looked toward the tablet.
Daniel smiled.
They fed the cattle first.
Daniel operated the loader while Neris cut twine, checked the mineral mix and watched the waterer controls. With one arm limited, she moved more slowly, but she did not resist assistance when Daniel lifted the heavier tools for her.
That was progress.
He did not point it out.
The western fence required attention after feeding.
Wind had driven snow against three sections until the top wire nearly disappeared beneath the drift. One cedar post had leaned under the pressure, pulling the wire low enough that cattle could step across if the surface hardened.
Daniel stopped the tractor beside it.
“Could leave it until spring.”
Neris looked at the sagging wire.
“You will not.”
“No.”
“Why say it?”
“To hear what bad judgment sounds like before I do the opposite.”
She climbed down.
The repair was direct.
Daniel used the tractor bucket to relieve pressure from the drift and push the post upright while Neris aligned it from the sheltered side. Once the post stood straight, Daniel packed stone and frozen soil around the base.
One insulator had cracked.
He replaced it with a spare from the tractor toolbox.
Neris tensioned the wire using her good arm while Daniel secured it.
The fence held.
No redesign.
No prolonged failure.
Only work that needed doing and people who knew how to do it.
Daniel tested the line by hand.
“Good.”
Neris looked toward the trees hiding Takuhai.
“After the message is sent, what happens?”
“We wait.”
“And if there is no answer?”
“We repair what we can. Listen for another echo.”
“And if the answer is immediate?”
Daniel let go of the wire.
“Then everything changes.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one.”
Neris’s tail moved across the snow.
“Would Claire still visit?”
“Yes.”
“You answered quickly.”
“Claire doesn’t stop existing because Xianglume answers.”
Neris considered that.
“Would I remain at the farm?”
Daniel looked at her.
The question was practical in wording only.
“Until you decide otherwise.”
Her ears angled back.
“That also avoids the answer.”
“I don’t know what happens after contact.”
“Neither do I.”
Daniel stepped closer and brushed snow from the white fur above one of her eyes.
Neris leaned into his fingers.
He left his hand there for a moment.
Then the communicator sounded.
“Power anomaly detected,” ER said.
Neris turned immediately.
“Resonator?”
“Not yet. Internal buffer capacity has degraded below the transmission model.”
Daniel lowered his hand.
“How much below?”
“Projected voltage stability during full pulse has fallen to eighty-one percent.”
“That sounds bad.”
“It is insufficient.”
Neris opened the farm tablet.
“The ship’s reserve was within tolerance last night.”
“The extraction altered distribution losses. The calibration burst also exposed additional degradation in the resonator feed.”
“Can the lattice compensate?”
“No. A voltage collapse during phase entry would terminate the transmission and could damage the reserve section.”
Daniel looked toward the farm buildings.
“What do you need?”
“An isolated external power source capable of supplying a brief high-current surge without introducing generator noise.”
“The farm generator?”
“Direct connection would destabilize phase control.”
“Batteries.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
By noon, the floor of Takuhai’s workshop held a collection of farm batteries that looked increasingly unreasonable beside Xianglume technology.
A deep-cycle utility battery.
A spare tractor battery.
The weather-station reserve.
Two fence-system batteries.
Daniel had refused to disconnect the active cattle-water backup.
Neris had wanted it.
Daniel had said no.
She had looked at the transmission model, then at the waterer system, and accepted the limit.
They connected the selected batteries through an isolation bank built from farm switching equipment and Takuhai’s remaining power-control modules.
The generator charged them outside the ship.
Before transmission, Daniel would disconnect the generator completely and transfer the isolated reserve into the resonator feed.
ER monitored electrical noise.
“The fence battery shows elevated internal resistance.”
“It’s old,” Daniel said.
“Replacement is advisable.”
“Add it to the list.”
“The list currently contains one hundred and fourteen items.”
“Then it’ll have company.”
Neris checked the wiring.
“Will the combined reserve be sufficient?”
“Estimated confidence: ninety-three percent.”
“Why not higher?”
“The tractor battery has inconsistent cell balance.”
Daniel looked at it.
“It starts the spare tractor in January.”
“That is not a recognized phase-transmission qualification.”
“It should be.”
The isolated bank passed its first full-load test.
The workshop lights dimmed for half a second, then recovered.
The lattice cradle held.
No new fractures appeared.
Daniel looked at Neris.
“One test.”
“Yes.”
“Enough?”
“No.”
ER said, “Additional full-load testing would consume unnecessary lattice life.”
Neris folded her arms.
“Then enough.”
The electric fence remained disabled while its batteries charged.
ER used the yard cameras to monitor the cattle.
Mabel struck the solid panel.
Clang.
“Fence status?” Daniel asked.
“Offline,” ER said.
“You checking the west pasture?”
“Yes.”
Clang.
“Mabel?”
“Also monitored.”
“Ignore her.”
“The gate frequency has changed.”
“She’s a cow.”
“That does not make the observation inaccurate.”
Clang.
Neris looked toward the speaker.
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