Chapter Two; The Takeoff
Coain strapped himself into the final seat at the rear of the spacecraft—far behind the officers, soldiers, and elite engineers who now filled the Zephyr-X with confident chatter. They didn't speak to him. They never did. As far as they were concerned, he was just the skinny guy with glasses who fetched wires and coffee.
But Coain knew something they didn't.
The engine wasn't ready.
The hum was wrong.
He had worked on this ship for five long years—mostly in silence, mostly ignored. But he knew her. Knew her like a mechanic knows a heartbeat. The sound wasn't alive. It was wheezing.
The countdown ticked down on the intercom:
"T-minus 10… 9… 8…"
Then suddenly—
"Abort. System fault detected. Core engine failure."
Alarms blared. Red lights flashed across the cabin.
The officers cursed. The captain demanded updates.
And a voice crackled in over the ship's comms:
"Coain Xal. Report to Engine Room B immediately."
Everyone turned to look. For the first time, they noticed him.
He stood, adjusted his crooked glasses, and muttered quietly:
"Here we go."
Then he ran.
The halls of the ship were alive with tension as Coain sprinted down the corridors, his boots thudding against the metal floor. Warning lights blinked overhead like eyes watching the end of the world.
A tall, pale man in a black vest—a supervisor—caught up to him.
"You built half the ignition network on this ship," the supervisor barked. "Tell me what's going on."
"Plasma sequence isn't locking in," Coain replied breathlessly. "If we launch now, the ship will never stabilize. It'll rip itself apart before we're even clear of the thermosphere."
They burst into the engine chamber—an enormous cathedral of machines.
Sparks danced in the air. Pipes screamed under pressure.
A glowing silver core, as tall as a house, pulsed erratically.
The heart of the Zephyr-X was dying.
"Everyone back!" Coain shouted. "I need to see her!"
He stripped off his suit and crawled into the narrow access hatch beneath the core. It was a furnace in there boiling heat, tight space, metal groaning like it was about to split open.
But this was where Coain belonged. Not in meetings. Not fetching coffee.
Here where machines needed him.
Hands trembling but steady, he adjusted the main flux lines, rerouted pressure channels, and whispered like a surgeon to his patient.
"She's trying to run cold," he said aloud. "She's afraid."
"You can fix it?" the supervisor called out.
"Yes… but not in an hour. If you want a safe launch and clean landing, I need four hours."
The comm crackled.
Captain Rhade's voice came in sharp and unforgiving:
"We don't have four hours. The alien ship is closing in. We launch in two and a half. Understood?"
Coain closed his eyes, heart sinking.
"Sir, I strongly advise "
"That wasn't a question. You'll work while we take off. That's why you're onboard."
Silence followed.
The air felt heavier.
He stared at the glowing cables under his fingers. They trembled like nerves beneath a surgeon's blade. The ship wasn't ready. But it had no choice.
And neither did he.
Coain exhaled, wiped the sweat from his brow, and said:
"Then give me every engineer you've got."
The supervisor stared at him for a second, then shouted:
"You heard the man! We've got 2.5 hours to rewrite this ship's future move!"
The command cracked through the engine room like a whip. At once, engineers swarmed the core like bees around a broken hive. Sparks flew. Screws clattered. Steam hissed from open vents.
Outside, the base was chaos. Alarms wailed. The red and blue strobe lights pulsed across the launch towers. Troop transports hovered above the decks. A crowd of military officials, scientists, and high-ranking engineers watched the ship this ship as if the fate of Earth were balanced on its steel bones.
Inside, Coain was still on his back beneath the engine.
The core still trembled. Still whimpered like a frightened animal.
His fingers dug into wires and cooling valves, rewiring lines he had memorized in long, sleepless nights. One slip. One miscalculation. That's all it would take for the entire launch to become a funeral.
The voice of the ship's countdown continued, cold and precise:
"T-minus 45 minutes…"
Coain clenched his jaw.
It was still not ready.
The engine kicked back bang! with a violent groan. Pipes rattled. The ship itself shuddered. An engineer dropped his tool and shouted, "It's not gonna hold!"
Coain ignored him. He crawled deeper into the chamber, deeper into the heart of the machine, and shouted over the alarms:
"Reroute cooling from grid four to grid six! Patch the plasma loop before it surges again!"
The supervisor paced above, panic rising. He turned to Coain and barked:
"Five minutes, kid! That's all we've got!"
Sweat poured from Coain's forehead. His vision blurred behind his glasses. His hands were covered in heat-scorched grime. And still… still he worked.
"T-minus 5:00…"
Then the hum changed.
It was subtle. Like the change in a heartbeat. But Coain heard it.
The core was no longer crying.
It was breathing.
He slid out from beneath the panel, panting. Sparks exploded beside him. Engineers were shouting all around, frantically trying to finish repairs in time. Coain grabbed the supervisor by the vest.
"The ship can launch," he said, voice hoarse. "But she's not done healing. We need to keep working during flight or we risk crashing when we land."
The supervisor stared at him, wide eyed.
"You're serious?"
Coain nodded. "If we stop now, all this was for nothing."
"T-minus 0:30…"
The final crew members technicians, medics, and two more engineering teams boarded the Zephyr-X.
Inside the cockpit, Captain Rhade stared at the glowing engine readings. For the first time, the power levels were stable. The core pulsed steadily like a living heart.
"5… 4… 3… 2… 1…"
"Ignition confirmed. Engines active."
"We have liftoff!"
The ground trembled as fire exploded beneath the massive vessel. Dust and ash swallowed the launch pad. Thunder cracked across the skies. The Zephyr-X rose into the heavens like a roaring titan, flame beneath her wings.
Inside, cheers erupted.
"WE'RE FLYING!"
"WE'RE IN THE AIR!"
"IT'S WORKING!"
The ship broke through the clouds—ascending beyond Earth's blue veil.
But Coain didn't celebrate.
He was already back beneath the panels—sleeves rolled, burns on his hands, instructing the engineers beside him with quiet confidence.
"Stabilize the second coil."
"Don't trust the heat sensors they're glitching from overload."
"And no one no one touches the backup coolant tanks."