Dead Star Dockyards

342 Low Maintenance

"Stainless steel . . . how does that work?""It introduces a significant amount of this metal into the alloy."

"Cha-row-mih-um . . . no, ka-row-mee-um? Chro-Chromium? Is that how it's said?"

"Indeed. Element 24 on the periodic table. It is lauded for it's resistance to chemical corrosion and high hardness, making it an excellent additive for alloys expected to ."

"So chromium is added to the steel, iron and carbon, to make steel resistant to rust? Is that why it's called 'stainless' steel?"

"That is correct."

"And this steel should . . . not be affected by berry juice?"

"For a time. For purposes of fermentation they can last upwards of 30 years before rust forms, though this may change depending on the acidity of the Litterberries."

"Acidity . . . what does that mean?"

If Arc had lungs or a need to relieve tension, he would have sighed. He held nothing against Titanyana or her ignorance to these matters, such concepts were foreign to her given both the technological and educational gap between her and the Terrans as well as the role she was intended to fill, but it didn't feel good having to tutor someone nominally in charge of major decisions in a project through such basic concepts. 

"Acidity refers to how much free floating hydrogen ions are in the liquid compared to water, which breaks itself down to a specific ratio of hydrogen and hydroxide ions that can be measured. An 'Acid' contains a much higher proportion of hydrogen ions, which you might interpret as 'sour' or a fizzing sensation when imbibed, while a 'Base' contains a much higher proportion of hydroxide ions, which you might interpret as bitter. While it largely depends on the specific material of the container as to which will have a greater effect, strong bases and strong acids are much more prone to eating through what holds them than something neutral as they react much more readily."

The angle at which Titanyana held the tablet did not allow Arc to see her face in the camera, however the shifting of her ears implied she had just tilted her head. 

"If that confuses you to much, you may think of it something like temperature. You'll wear yourself out much faster in very hot and very cold weather if you don't have the proper attire and preparations, but in a more neutral environment you can work for longer without worrying about that. Obviously this isn't a perfect analogy, but I think you get the idea."

"So too many acid, or too few acid, will break the container faster?" The ears tilted the other direction. 

"It depends on the properties of the container, just like some people work much better in hot or cold weathers, but yes. I should add that some materials are immune to the effects of all but the strongest acids and bases. Polymers, ceramics, glass, and some metals such as gold and platinum fall into that category." Arc noticed the flattening of those ears at the mention of those precious metals. "For our purposes, stainless steel should be enough. A vat can always be replaced, especially something easy to produce like steel."

"I think clay . . . would be best." Interpreting the words of someone who couldn't speak fluently was difficult, but her ability to perfectly interpret his own words was a blessing. He didn't bother contemplating how this was possible anymore given her own lack of knowledge on the subject (the working theory was some form of cognitive adjustment by the Great Csillacra). "I want the Litterwine same as before."

"In that case, you will need to have your people find a source of clay that suits your needs. I can assist in the production of a kiln to fire those vats, however I am incapable of doing the surveying on my own." If the clay was good enough, he might consider proposing a proper electric or hydroxy fuel kiln to Donovan for the mass manufacture of plates, cups, and pots. Petty amenities, sure, but they would probably be a boost to morale over dining ware fashioned from wood. "Have you considered the processing method for the wine?"

"If, um, possible, can we make it roll?"

"You wish to maintain a wheel crushing assembly?"

"Mhm. The . . . recipe . . . is important. Making too many changes, may be bad?" Arc was confident the Litterwine making process could be replicated with simpler techniques for regular wine, but if she wanted a wheel and pit assembly he was more than willing to go ahead with it. "Can we do that?"

"Certainly." He mocked up a conceptual models based upon Titanyana's descriptions of the process and some rudimentary drawings, complete with some brief animations and diagrams. Hours of work for a single man completed in moments, and Titanyana wouldn't even recognize it. "How does this look?"

He didn't bother with a background or applying shading and reflection to the parts or liquid, leaving everything in bright monotone colors with black edge lines to avoid confusion. The only exception to this was the ground directly beneath the contraption, which was given a simply dark gradation to indicate where the floor was. It looked a bit odd, but that was sort of the point.

"What is the wheel? Metal? Stone?"

"For the moment, it has no material. I only want to know if this sort of design is acceptable."

"Oh, okay."

- - - - -

Gently, very gently, Donovan assumed control over the tip of the strand and guided it through his body. There was no specific goal or destination in mind with his guidance, though he never went beyond the well traveled paths he made use of. All he was doing was practicing, taking the strand and dragging it around a bit before returning it to the point of origin. He just wasn't practicing  for himself.

"Now take it back and return it to your core." Donovan had his arms wrapped around Diana, holding her close to his chest while they lay in bed together.

"Mkay." Her gentle panting and elevated heartbeat, signs their usual nocturnal activities went uninterrupted, precluded complete sentences from escaping her lips. It didn't matter though, her input wasn't necessary.

"Do you have it?"

"Mhm."

"Run some split through it, like pulling split out." For a time there wasn't substantial movement, maybe a little jostle or jerk back and forth as her their bodies moved, but it was clear how much effort she dedicated to maintaining the strand. Sympathetic to her struggle, Donovan gave it a little tug. Nobody had been there to help him through this step, and she clearly wasn't able to figure out how to both maintain and drive the strand simultaneously. He had no intention of letting her waste hundreds of hours making the same mistakes he did. If that meant he needed to be her training wheels, of well. "Do you feel how I let travel throughout my body?"

"A wittle."

"Getting it to the throat and back to speak is easy enough with brute force, but to keep it stable across a long and complicated path you need to be a bit more relaxed." He let one of the strands deviate from the established route a little to demonstrate his point. "It's less of a pipe and more like a hose. Too loose a grip and it will go flying, but hold on too tight and you'll stop the flow."

Practice was an essential component of getting better at anything, but Diana hadn't had any. To be fair the Arboreal Maiden's limited tutoring wasn't much help - Donovan was unsure of what 'intent' meant - so she didn't really have a good start point. Her core was looking solid though, at least as far as he could tell. The formation and strengthening of their core was the one thing the Great Csillacra gave some level of guidance on, and they had been following it to a 't'. Collect split next to the core, wring out 'impurities', then pressing the mass into it. A simple, tedious process well communicated and demonstrated.

"Just like that." He slowly let go of his sway over the strand, leaving it in Diana's hands. Though shaky and unstable, it was maintaining form and moving split through it. "Now tell me the path it travels."

"Mm. Hand, shoulder, pelvis . . . left leg ? . . foot, pelvis, other leg, foot, pelvis, other shoulder, hand, me." Though uncertain of her divination, she had gotten the leg correct.

"Now, cut off the first point of the strand and drag it all back to your core." Leaving a strand to dissipate inside the body would just have it scatter, annoying to collect but nothing would be lost. Letting it dissipate outside the body would be a total loss. To a degree this was an acceptable loss right now, the majority of the strand would dissipate in Donovan's body, however establishing this habit was just good practice. If nothing else it saved the trouble of having to recollect it.

"Like s'geti?"

". . . yes Diana, like spaghetti." She found the strangest analogies sometimes. "Would you like me to help you?"

"Nuh." Or so she said, but Donovan would provide a little bit of help in ensuring the strand stayed coherent. Just stabilizing the parts at risk of fizzing out wouldn't be detected, and she was doing most of the work anyways. It did get a bit weird when she started to make slurping sounds though. 

"All good?"

"Mhm."

"Would you like me to do the thing?"

"Pwease?"

- - - - - 

Feeling a tad drained, Donovan finally cut off his connection to Diana's core once it was clear she was sleeping. It had become something of a nightly habit these past few weeks, but they still didn't have a name for 'it'. It was really quite simple, Donovan merely attached a strand to Diana's core and siphoned split to it, but nobody they'd talked to had ever done something like it. They were given warnings about how this could be dangerous for both parties, however the danger wasn't anything either would ever attempt.

Even if Diana was to make a mistake when handling his strand, he'd experienced the pain it could cause with the Great Csillacra's seedling. Could it get worse than that? Probably, however he hadn't seen anything to suggest the 'damage' from the strand breaking could be permanent, and why would it? The Great Csillacra wouldn't have given him such a puzzle if it could bring him long term harm. At this point he was perfectly willing to accept his tolerance for pain was simply beyond the majority of non-Terrans. 

As a pilot he'd been given a degree of counter-interrogation training (something he imagined other here could also undergo) however his physiology was very clearly different than everyone else as well. He'd seen it plenty of times during duels, some blows considered 'lethal' gave injuries Donovan could handle. Sure, it might debilitate him in the short term or prove fatal without medical attention, but a rapier through the shoulder wasn't going to kill him in an instant. So long as his dominant arm remained unharmed he was confident in his ability to power through the pain for a few minutes. Blood loss would almost certainly be the nail in the coffin, which was basically what happened during the tournament. He hadn't seen anyone perform in a similar manner.

"Arc?" He had spoken from the tablet in 'whisper mode' so as to not wake Diana up. "What is it?"

"She's still up?" Donovan didn't have a clock or anything, his watch was on the bedside table next to the tablet, so he could only guess based on the moonlight filtering through the curtains. "What's she doing?"

"I'll go have a talk with her." Rolling his eyes, Donovan begrudgingly let go of Diana. He'd be back in a few minutes, certainly not long enough to let her get cold. 

He stepped on the location of the floor beam to prevent any creaking. His partner might be sleeping heavy enough to not be woken by gentle conversation, but there was no saying what the high pitched groaning of shoddily cured lumber might evoke as a response. He took similar precautions with the door, lifting it slightly to avoid a squeaky hinge. Once in the hall there was a greater degree of freedom, which he took full advantage of to avoid surprising Titanyana. Nekh were fairly sensitive to sudden sounds, and a yip of shock from Titanyana might wake up Petunia - who would almost certainly be slumbering beside her.

"Titanyana?" He pushed the door in a little, just enough to see the light of Titanyana's tablet illuminating the wall.

"Donovan?" The recognition from Titanyana prompted him to open it the rest of the way. "Am I up too late?"

"I'd say so."

"Sorry." Her ears drooped. "I just want to get this done as soon as possible."

"There's no need to rush it, Titanyana." Less familiar with the layout of this room, a few of the boards squeaked until he could find the supports. Fortunately Petunia was sound asleep, impromptu eye mask complemented by what looked to be wads of fabric bundled up in her ears. It was good to see they were taking proper steps regarding her wellbeing - he need only look at the mountain ascending from the covers to tell her delivery would be soon. "Fermentation will take time, a few weeks at least, and the berries won't be ready for some time either. A day or two won't present much of a difference."

"Maybe, but I want this done right." Seeming to accept defeat on the matter before an argument even started, she turned off the tablet. Had it not been a clear night the room would have plunged into total darkness. "I'll go to bed."

Donovan, who was making his way towards Titanyana's side of the bed, nearly tripped over something. Mercedes, he'd recognize that lazy groan anywhere. Neither he nor Diana was fond of having her in their room during the usual bedtime ritual, however Diana usually didn't want him getting up to let the dog back into the room either. It shouldn't have been a surprise she'd end up here, next to Titanyana, when she was the only person awake.

"Do you need my help?"

"No, no. I'll handle it. I  to handle it." His hand landed just behind her ear, incentivizing her to lean into it for scritches. 

"Then I won't press you any further. Just remember to lean on Arc when he offers advice." He took the tablet from her hands and placed it on her bedside table, trusting her not to pick it back up again. "A ruler doesn't need to know everything, only make decisions based on the available information. Learning is important, but not if it hinders your other efforts."

"But don't you-"

"Have my efforts been hindered?" Donovan gently caressed the other side of her head, forcing her to face him in exchange for further scritches. Her weakness to the sensation was far more helpful in dictating her responses than he felt comfortable admitting. "You stand at the base of an incalculably tall mountain, Titanyana. You've begun to climb it, this much is true, but you have yet to grasp it's true magnitude or the best methods of scaling it. Take it slow for the time being, go no faster or slower than we let you. Once you have a solid foundation you will be free to run wild."

"Whaddya mean?" She was practically melting in his hands, the fatigue of a long day's work setting in rapidly now that some tension was being relieved. 

"How much of what you learned about the project did you actually remember? How much of what you remember do you understand? How much of what you understand can you actually put to use?" He offered a kiss on her forehead. "We'll teach you the basics in time. All of the more complicated stuff can come after, so relax a little. Just remember that I'm here to help if ever the burden gets too great."

"Mhm." Her head began to feel heavier in his hands over the course of a few seconds, a sign she'd stopped supporting it with her own power and was falling asleep.  

"Good night, Titanyana." He slowly lowered her back down onto the pillow, covering her up briefly after. "Good night, Mercedes."

She didn't get up off  the floor, and Donovan didn't feel like bending over. Belly rubs with his foot would have to be good enough, and he didn't hear any complaining.

"You are, without question, the lowest maintenance woman in my life."