Loose cables

You can't look away. You couldn't - you wouldn't. At the back of your mind, that part that can still think logically in times of crisis keeps a tally of all the damage— total screen replacement, frame re-alignment —you and your crew will have to repair— shorn geminus connector: re-weld and re-align with socket; re-seat crown heat sink —as you watch the broadcast on the hangar wall-screen. Oh, your dear, beautiful Titan, how horrible its damage - how you wish you could somehow scoop it up in your arms and heal it. You'd cry but you are too rigid with adrenalin to do that.

This is what all your training was for. Your Titan needs you, and you stand ready.

Two little details make your heart leap just before the broadcast ends: in the Titan's teleport-cloud was something else - the Titan had managed to grab the weapon it tore off the scarlet jötunn. The other is that the Cam-unit, who'd bravely stayed behind to record, seemed to just manage to join the Titan in its teleport-cloud. You'd hate to imagine the valiant Cam left behind with that carrier jötunn that materialised.

Engineer Zenith throws the switch to allow the hangar roof to retract. You guess there'll be an even bigger column of teleport-fog than usual because of the Titan's cargo - having the roof open will let it dissipate quicker.

The air in the hangar feels closer and charged with static, like it does before an electrical storm — then an enormous column of teleport-fog manifests in the hangar, coruscating with purple flashes. The Titan, misshapen and quivering, materialises in the middle of it, along with whatever it picked up from the battlefield.

"Fucking Astro shit out of my hangar," snaps the Titan, as it hurls the object out through the hangar roof to land somewhere outside. The impact sound and vibrations make you flinch… but it's not as disturbing as the sound of the Titan's own voice, distorted and pained-sounding.

Clinging to the Titan's boot is a terrified-looking Cam - the one who was broadcasting the video you just watched. Two TV agents port over and grab the Cam by a shoulder each, then port them away elsewhere. Good - you and your engineer colleagues need them out of the way.

You look at your tablet - so many tasks fly into existence, the list of repairs multiplying faster than you can scroll through it. Hell. Pick one, stick with it until it's done, then pick another one, repeat until you run out of energy. You let the algorithm auto-assign you a task, which turns out to be preparing the Titan's main screen for repair.

You lower your visor that you use when working in the Titan's hangar. It protects you from TV command-beams (not that the poor Titan can use any right now) and has useful heads-up display information in it, allowing you to perceive the same information from the hangar intranet that your TV-headed colleagues receive directly into their visual processors.

The Titan detaches its head, almost gratefully so - you guess that keeping its mangled geminus connector in its neck socket was uncomfortable. Its head comes to rest, landing ungracefully, in the vast frame made for this purpose - holding the Titan's great head clear of the hangar floor so that engineers can work on it from all angles, including the geminus connector underneath.

The Titan's head-casing is too warped to begin attaching a new screen. You mark the task on your tablet as 'blocked', meaning it's impossible to work on it until the 'blockage' task is cleared -- pulling the frame of the Titan's head back into shape. The algorithm assigns you a new task, taking into account your current location, which turns out to be working on the geminus connector. It's looking likely that that'll need replacing entirely too… You tap two fingers on one hand to the gloved palm of your other. Your visor tracks your pupils to identify what you're looking at, and as you pull your fingers away, your HUD shows a floating information window, spanning from your palm to your opposite fingers. You 'scan' the Titan's geminus connector with the information window (glowing in TV-purple), noting the damage readouts.

"Phaeton, swap tasks with me," says engineer Vidal, coming into view with a crash-cart full of tools. You squash the information window out of existence and turn to face Vidal. "You're better suited to fixing the teleport-circuit - if you do that, we won't need to remove the Titan's magnets," Vidal continues. Your smaller size and squishier flesh lets you squeeze into smaller spaces than your TV colleagues, and your immunity to magnetic fields means you can work at some tasks longer and faster. The Titan's huge magnets that direct its betatron output would make any TV engineer have to spend a lot of time stepping out and de-gaussing.

You clip a lock-out tag to the Titan's head-casing so that everyone else knows not to trap you inside, while Vidal momentarily ports away then returns with a stepladder. They hold it in place for you while you climb inside the Titan's head, then Vidal passes you a bag of tools from the crash-cart they brought.

As you slide between metal plates and piping inside the Titan's head, making your way to its colossal teleport-circuit above the betatron, you can hear sounds below you of Vidal working on the geminus connector and preparing to fix the damage.

"Phaeton, talk to me," says the Titan. Its voice sounds warped and harsh from its damaged speakers.

"What do you need, boss?" you reply, your voice not sounding much better. Your throat tries to grasp itself as you fight not to dissolve into tears.

"Just your voice," says the Titan. "I can hear everyone else. Everyone is transmitting to me. But I can't hear you."

Such is one of the great advantages of techfolk. Your hardware-headed friends can talk to each other secretly and silently at a distance, and the Titan's vast intellect means it can parse multiple threads of conversation simultaneously. All you have is sound with no secrecy.

"Can you sense my communicator?" you ask. Yours is modded so that it emits the equivalent of a yes-I-live signal, the transmitted whisper that lets techfolk identify each other sight-unseen. Some of your engineer colleagues had helped you with the modification after you'd startled them a few times by being a sudden human where they'd expected zero humans to be.

"I can," says the Titan. "I can sense where you all are… but I want to hear you too."

"I've got you," you say, pulling out the mic integrated into your visor and headpiece. "Tune into my communicator so you don't have to strain your speakers."

"Where are you going?" asks the Titan through your earpiece. "It feels as though you're heading for my teleport circuit."

"I am," you say, making your way further in. "Is it a problem?"

"No," says the Titan. "But I could have made that easier for you. Give me a minute to get into position and I could have taken the back panel off my head for you."

"Not right now, you can't," points out Vidal through the comms. You're working nearby, so you'd looped Vidal in in case you needed to warn each other about something. "Your casing is too warped to easily take the back off. And right now your body is covered with the rest of the crew - we don't want you moving."

"You just let us work, boss," you say, arriving at your destination and squeezing your way around one of the great glassy pipes of the Titan's teleport-circuit (prompting a static buzz of surprise from its head speakers). "We all have roles to play, and no single person can do everything. Your job is fucking shit up, and ours is unfucking you afterwards. Just relax. We've got you."

"…Thank you, Phaeton," says the Titan through the comms.

You remember the Titan's request to talk to it so it could hear you, so you narrate as you work. You click on your head-torches, one on each side, and examine the Titan's teleport-circuit. It's full of partial blockages. "Oh boss, I wish you'd said something about this earlier. Your poor circuit; it can't have been comfortable. …You've been doing a lot of partial teleports lately. We'll have to remember to check you more frequently after you've been doing those." In battle, the Titan can effectively teleport just its sword arm by manifesting a fog-portal and pushing its arm through. A useful technique, but evidently one that puts strain on its circuit. You need to clear the blockages.

You unclip the tool that Vidal passed you, and strap it to the power-pack slung at your hip. As it powers on and warms up, you prepare the decongealer-loop and wrap it around the pipework at the nearest partial blockage. The warming loop loosens and melts the congealed fog, which starts liquefying and flowing down the pipes of the teleport-circuit. You stroke the pipework with your hands in the direction of flow, helping it along a little with your own mammal warmth. You hear a slight rumble from the Titan's speakers, like a static sigh.

"Looping in Kirov," says Vidal through comms.

"Clearing remnants of screen," says engineer Kirov through the local loop of comms. "If not for the casing being warped, would recommend restoring the screen using existing shards still embedded in the frame as a base. Pulling casing back into shape will likely render all shards too unstable, recommend complete removal and overhaul."

"My poor Titan," you say softly as you move the decongealer-loop to the next blockage and begin melting it.

You'd cut your mic because you weren't speaking for anyone's attention, but the Titan replies anyway: "I heard that." It speaks to you through the comms, only to you. "Are you proud of me, Phaeton?" The question catches you by surprise.

"…Oh, Titan." Your breath catches and twists itself in your throat and you suppress a sob. Your eyes prickle with tears, and they roll down your face under your visor, where you can't wipe them away. "I am so proud of you, my dear Titan. Oh, my precious Titan, my magnificent one. I'm so proud of what you've become," you whisper as you move to clear the next blockage. "Did I make you think otherwise?"

"No," says the Titan through comms. "I'm… upset by how much I fucked up. I was the last Titan still battle-worthy - the Alliance was relying on me. …I'm frightened, Phaeton. Have I doomed us all?"

"You haven't!" you say.

"Oh fuck, that's bad," says the Titan through its head-speakers. You can hear the sounds of Kirov removing shards of screen and pieces of aperture-grille from the frame of the Titan's head.

"I'm so sorry, my Titan," says Kirov through local comms. "I wish there was an easier way, but this has to get worse before it gets better." (You rub the Titan's teleport-circuit comfortingly as Kirov talks, in the hope that will soothe the Titan a little.)

"You haven't fucked up as much as you think you have," you say to the Titan once you're sure you have its attention again. "Yes, you had to withdraw - but it took one of the strongest Astros to make you do that. And that was after three more of them had already fought you." You stroke the Titan's teleport circuit as its blockage melts and clears. "And… you got the sample. And you came back to us. You did that. And you did fuck up the scarlet jötunn a little. Hopefully it and the skibidi leader fucking kill each other and save us all the bother. …If you hadn't got the sample - yes, you'd be in fighting condition right now, but we wouldn't have that material. And we'll probably need it."

"I hope you're right, Phaeton," says the Titan through comms.

"The Soundkind are working on something," you remind the Titan. "The Sound Titan can defend the Alliance for a little while until you're ready to fight again… Oh, Titan." You're trying not to cry again. "I'm so sorry, boss. We're fixing you, but it's only so you can go out there again. I wish you didn't have to. I wish I could keep you safe forever."

"You said it yourself: my job is to fuck shit up," replies the Titan. "I chose this. I knew this was what would happen if I was picked to be the Titan. I will go out into battle again and again to protect the faction and the Alliance. This is what I am for. …I have you, my engineers, to look after me. If my existence is an eternal loop of fighting until I am forced to withdraw, then my existence is also an eternal loop of being made strong again by my dear engineers. I have you to look after me, and you have me to protect you."

You melt - just like the blockage now oozing and dissolving in the Titan's teleport-circuit.

"You know…" you begin. "I remember something you said to me. That time you ported me home to Antlia-Four - you picked me up and held me level with your face, and you said: 'we will survive this war'. I think of that sometimes, when I need it, and it keeps me going. We will." The Titan emits a soft rumble through its speakers at that.

You finish clearing the last of the partial blockages in the Titan's teleport-circuit as you talk, and move to unscrew the collector-bulb that caught the liquefied remnants of the congealed fog. You pour it out into the disposal sack in the kit bag that Vidal gave you, watching as the granular lining of the sack absorbs the liquid fog, making itself a wet gelatinous geode. You replace the collector bulb and begin making your way out of the Titan's head.

"Thank you, Phaeton," whispers the Titan over comms. "Most of me still feels like hammered shit… but my teleport-circuit hasn't felt that fresh and clean in a while. Out you come, dear one."

You reach the gap in the Titan's head-casing where you came in, and find Vidal moving the stepladder into place for you. You give them an appreciative fist-bump once you've wriggled free and descended. You get out your tablet and mark the teleport-circuit maintenance as completed, then turn once more to Vidal. "How is the geminus connector?" you ask, as you return the tools to the crash cart. "I'll help you with it."

"Interrupt," says a voice in your comms loop. It's Zenith, the Engineer Prime. "Phaeton, take a five-minute break. I am instructing everyone to take a break after crossing off each task, minimum two minutes. Tensions are high right now and I need everyone to not panic and work without haste. The Titan is not in battle-worthy condition but nor is it in mortal peril."

"Understood," you say. "I'll use this time to plan what to do next." Zenith signs off for now.

"Since you asked," says Vidal, "Not as bad as I feared. Stem is largely intact and is cut reasonably cleanly. Total replacement of the grapple is needed but should be trivial."

You part with Vidal and check on Kirov working on the Titan's main screen. Kirov is wearing a harness suspended from one of the mobile gantries, all the better to quickly reach anywhere on the expanse of the screen (thanks to Embryon being able to co-ordinate all the hangar machinery and move it for everyone). Kirov assures you they've got it in hand.

You take stock of the Titan's situation. Its body lies on the hangar floor, on its side to allow engineers access to its core chamber and the equipment at its back. At some point it must have removed its coat. You don't see it anywhere - you guess someone (Polycephaly, probably) ported it to the tailoring department for emergency repairs. The Titan looks so vulnerable in this state, unclothed and with its exposed plating dented from its recent battle. It's an arresting sight - though part of you is strangely gratified that you're in the Titan's trusted elite circle, one of the few allowed to get close to it in this state.

Engineers have physically linked the Titan's body to its head with a fat array of temporary cables and piping, the better to lessen the cognitive load of having its head detached. The Titan's sub-screens have been disconnected and ported away to be harvested for parts, and two backup screens have been brought out of storage. They're connected to the Titan's frame with the same type of cable network, allowing the Titan to work the screens into its systems at its own pace. They're currently displaying soft static with occasional flashes of test-card patterns.

Polycephaly spawns in suddenly - they're one of the few units who can port directly into the Titan's hangar without going through the security clearance. (The cynical part of you wonders if that's intentional authorisation, or if Polycephaly just does what they want and no-one dares stop them.) Polycephaly flares their Astro-style detainer-clamps angrily, using the clamps themselves to undo the couplings at their back. The assembly falls to the hangar floor with a great clattering thump, denting the floor.

Polycephaly twitches and strains for a moment, before all four of their own stems lance through their back-aperture and flare proudly. Polycephaly drops to their knees at the Titan's hand and hugs it fiercely, wrapping their stems all around the Titan's fingers until both are lovingly entangled. (Two engineers discreetly port over and then port the discarded Astro-apparatus somewhere out of sight, before porting themselves back in and resuming their tasks.)

You feel a little better at the sight. Polycephaly and the Titan are very close, and you're glad that the Titan has someone available to give cuddles. (You notice now that Polycephaly's back-aperture is a little warped - it must have hurt when they pushed their stems through it in a hurry. They don't seem to care, though.)

The hangar blast doors open to admit four TV agents, one standing at each corner of a big crate on an appropriately-sized pallet jack. The four TVs push and pull the crate through the hangar doors, then port it into place somewhere near you. Engineer Twelve ports in to intercept the agents.

"Compliments of the Soundkind Titan's crew," explains one of the agents. They hand a crowbar to Twelve, before the four agents port back to the hangar doors and take their leave.

Twelve throws the crowbar into the air, letting it flip once before they catch it again, before pushing it into a suitable slot in the crate and levering it open. Inside is an array of brand new speakers to replace the Titan's damaged ones. Even if the Titan's current speakers are repairable, it'll be nice to have a spare set while their current ones get fixed.

Twelve emits a happy chirp of static and displays a cheery emoticon. They notice your own face. "You look concerned," says Twelve.

"…I just thought of that Cam in the dungeons," you reply. The TV faction is currently detaining a Cam-unit who was caught trespassing and attempting to steal confidential information. "And then I thought… might these be bugged? To relay information back to the Soundkind faction? …No, I don't want to believe it. I've met the Sound Titan; she's lovely. I don't want to believe her crew would do that to us. I'm letting that one Cam poison my thinking."

Twelve gives you a reassuring pat on your upper arm.

"What have they sent us?" asks the Titan, talking through the battered speakers on its main head. (You notice that the Titan's crown heatsink has had some copper panels temporarily bolted to it, to allow the warped heatsink to better vent excess heat. It's… actually not a bad look.)

"New speakers," says Twelve.

The Titan rumbles approvingly, though it sounds like an unpleasant rasp in its current condition, with loose parts rattling against its speaker-cones. "Soundkind-made speakers are without equal. You'll install them on me, won't you?"

"But of course," says Twelve. "If nothing else, they've saved us the time it would take to fix yours. …I'll get some of the temporary engineers to fit these shortly."

You notice that Embryon has been busy using the hangar forks and grapples to pull back some of the Titan's arm-panelling and connect the hangar's network-cabling to the Titan's own, allowing Embryon to insert itself in the Titan's frame. The Titan sighs happily (as much as it can sound happy in this state) from its damaged speakers, as Embryon pours itself into the Titan's circuitry.

"Thank you for waiting, dear Titan," says Embryon, patching itself into the comms network. "I've got you now. Relax, my dear Audeamus, and let me work. You've done your part. Rest now…"

The Titan visibly relaxes harder into the hangar floor, its servos clicking and its plating creaking as it does so. Embryon must be juicing up the effects of the circuit-blockers (the techfolk equivalent of local anaesthetic), making the Titan feel relaxed. You feel a little calmer at the sight.

While you were working on clearing the Titan's teleport-circuit, other engineers removed the front frame from the casing of the Titan's main head, and have taken it apart further still to pull the salvageable frame struts and outer panels back into shape. Only a few were too bent to be re-used, and they've already been replaced. As the engineers make the final alterations, you check the hangar intranet on your tablet to see what's next. It seems you're up. Time to get the necessary supplies from one of the store rooms.

'We'll make you beautiful again, Titan,' you think as you return with a voidwelder and a reel of hyaline-web. You unspool a length of hyaline-web, looking like crystalline purple rope, and begin 'welding' the end of it to the inside edge of the frame. The welding flux smells like a blend of lilies and wood smoke. Opposite you, engineer Caldvul does something similar with a reel of some darker web. As you lay down the scaffolding web for what will be the new screen glass, Caldvul does the same for what will be the new aperture grille.

As you work, a couple of engineers come in behind you and connect your harness to the crane overhead so you don't have to stop working. With Embryon's help, lifting you and carrying you across the width of the frame for what will be the new screen, you construct a 'web' of scaffolding. It glows discreetly in the way gems do. It doesn't really matter what shape it has as long as the strands are close enough for the glass to take hold, so you build it in hexagons like a honeycomb.

As you return to the floor and take stock of the crystalline scaffold of hyaline-web you've constructed, some more engineers wheel over a vat of seed-crystals suspended in a purple liquid medium. Time to start a new screen…

You and some other engineers take up the application guns connected to the vat by coiled hoses, and begin applying the glassy paste to the hyaline-web. It comes out purple and clings readily to the web, like ferrofluid gluing itself to a magnet. Before your eyes you see it writhe into regular formations as it begins seeding and spreading, growing into little platelets as it pulls material from the liquid medium. Two more engineers come in behind you and the rest, spraying the growing screen with more purple liquid. The screen oozes with purple fluid as it grows, dripping it onto the hangar floor.

As you work, engineer Kirov returns with a crate of more seed-crystals to add to the vat, as well as two cylinders of additional suspension medium.

"Are those the remains of the shards you pulled out?" you ask Kirov.

"Just so," says Kirov, displaying a smiling emoticon.

You're proud to be carrying out this task, but also glad when it's over. It's hard going to hold the application gun - it's heavy and has a bit of a kick to it. You join the rest of your little group of engineers in beholding your work: the start of a new screen for your Titan. All that's left is for it to grow into a plane - after which you'll have to trim off the excess around the edges and seal it. Something similar will be needed for the aperture grille behind the glass.

"I definitely need my five-minute break after that," you remark to the nearest engineer.

"Good timing," says the engineer. "Zenith is calling for a group break for the next fifteen minutes."

You gratefully go to join the rest of the engineers, sitting on the floor between the Titan's new sub-screens. Polycephaly sits with a few engineers in their lap, and some more leaning on them. Polycephaly's stems rest on the floor, loosely bracketing the bundle of engineers like the claws of a crab.

Zenith the Engineer Prime, and their deputy Twelve, sit slumped against each other, holding hands. The trio of electrical engineers are pressed together, with the engineer Palindrome holding engineer Baryta's head-casing as if whispering reassuring words to them. You sit down next to engineer Wolfram at their invitation, and they allow you to lean on them. You sigh with relaxation as you enjoy Wolfram's warmth and solidity.

"You doing okay? All things considered," you ask Wolfram.

"I've been better," admits Wolfram. "But keeping it together." They offer you their hand to hold. You accept, and the two of you clasp hands. "What about you?" Wolfram asks.

"Same for me," you say. "I'm upset but I just have to keep working until it's done."

The Titan peacefully rumbles the speakers on its sub-screens. "My engineers," it says affectionately. "Mine. No other Titan has these engineers. The most brilliant team of engineers in the Alliance, and they're all mine. …I would offer you a rest in my core chamber, dear ones, but I'm… not feeling up to that now." Any techfolk who sit in the Titan's core chamber will enjoy being wirelessly recharged. In its damaged state the Titan will need to keep all its energy to itself to recover faster.

You close your eyes to rest them a while, ever-so-slightly dipping into sleep as you enjoy the press of warm robot bodies around you. You reach out and pet Polycephaly's nearby stem a little. It's good to see those again.

Nothing ever lasts forever. Your group break comes to an end, and it seems Polycephaly has places to be. They prepare to leave… but you can't let them go just yet.

"Polycephaly!" you call out. "Do you have a minute before you go?"

"As it's you," says Polycephaly.

"I have something I want to say and I'm worried there won't be time later. …Would you pick me up?"

Polycephaly sits on the floor and invites you into their lap. You gratefully climb into place and let yourself be picked up and held against Polycephaly's chest. "Let's hear it," says your big friend.

"Polycephaly, I… care about you a lot," you begin. "About your happiness. You're very important to me and I'm happy to know you and call you friend. You're a good friend and you help me so much, and you're always considerate to me and you've been there when I needed you. …I love you, my friend. I know we say things like 'I love you, you prick' all the time, but… I figured that was just banter."

"I meant it. Didn't you?"

"Oh, Polycephaly, I really did." You press yourself against Polycephaly. "My dear friend. You're really one of my favourite people. I love you."

"Phaeton. C'mere." Polycephaly gathers you up in their arms as you snuggle closer, and wraps a couple of their stems around you too. "I love you, my friend."

"I couldn't let you go out into the field again without knowing that."

"Oh, I knew," says Polycephaly softly, scruffling the back of your head with fingers and thumb. Polycephaly gives you a final squeeze before setting you down and getting to their feet. "I have to get going now," says Polycephaly. "Look after the Titan for me. I'll see you around."

"Ah'll sithee," you reply before Polycephaly is enveloped in a spiralling column of black fog. It completes a full rotation then dissipates, leaving nothing behind.

You get out your tablet again and scroll through the list of tasks. There are still many to get through before the Titan can be considered minimum-level battle-ready - far too many to clear tonight. Your heart lightens a little at seeing how many are already marked complete. Time to mark off as many more as you can.

You set to, as directed by the hangar intranet — detaching panels here - reworking connections there - pulling out burnt and warped components and seals and replacing them with fresh ones, — all while whispering reassurances through comms to your dear Titan.

You scroll through your tablet to find what your next assigned task will be, which turns out to be removing the damaged speakers in preparation for the new ones from the Soundkind. You accept the assignment, and the hangar intranet provides you with a tick-list of items to complete it.

Well, step one appears to be one of the simplest tasks you've had to do as a Titan engineer. All you need to do to clear the first item on your list is to remove four bolts. One bolt comes out without incident, then two, then three. The fourth… doesn't. Why doesn't it come out?

Keep it together. For the Titan.

You close your eyes for the count of two, and then on three you open them and re-examine the bolt.

You've stripped it.

How?

How did you do that?

You've never done that before. Every time you've removed or installed a bolt on the Titan, it's gone perfectly. How did you fuck up such a simple task- no. Don't go into meltdown. You wish you could go back in time and undo it, but it's happened now.

"…I'm so sorry, boss," you say. "I've stripped one of your bolts. There's only one way I can remove it now." The only way to remove a stripped thread is with brute force. It's a recessed bolt, so you can't even try gripping the head with pliers and turning it that way; there's just not enough space to work.

"Shit happens," says the Titan over comms.

"…It does." You pet the Titan's frame. "I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be looking after you, and now I have to hurt you."

"I will help you," says Embryon through comms. "Give me a moment."

One of the gantries swings into place above you, and a crane's hook-block descends to meet you. You get the erroneously-bolted component attached to it, and Embryon uses the crane to pull the stripped bolt out, loosing the component with a horrid wrenching sound. The Titan flinches slightly. You unfasten the removed component, leaving it on the hangar floor for now, and let Embryon put the crane back.

"How are you feeling?" you ask the Titan as you stroke near the affected area.

"Uncomfortable," says the Titan. You appreciate its honestly even though you it crumples you with guilt. "I'll get over it. I know you did your best."

"This isn't right," you reply. "You're the one who got hurt. You shouldn't have to comfort me. I'll do better."

"Remember the first time you worked on me?" asks the Titan.

"How could I forget? You were so gentle and patient with me."

"I remember the final part was a little hard for you," says the Titan. "So we did it together. We'll get through this together, my engineer."

You hug the side of the Titan's great head as best you can, and get to work completing your task.

You finish it without further incident, but it worries you that you made such a mistake. You realise that you've been coasting on pure determination, and lack of glucose is catching up to you. You've come to a point where you need a proper meal and a sit down, so you flag down Zenith next time you see them.

"I need to go back to my quarters for a bit and have something substantial to eat," you tell Zenith. You'd been munching on snacks (from your stash that you keep in one of the control rooms) throughout the day, but you need something hot with protein and greens. A strong coffee wouldn't go amiss either.

"Of course," says Zenith. "And I'm letting everyone who needs it to step out for a bit and check on friends. You'll need to check on Seabrooks, won't you?"

"She'll be okay - I left extra food and water with her," you say. You and the other engineers had been standing in readiness in the hangar since the Titan set off for its battle, in in anticipation of the Titan needing repairs. You'd made sure to leave extra provisions for your pigeon before you went. "Poor thing will be bored though."

"May I take you?" asks engineer Palindrome - they'd approached while you and Zenith were talking.

"Would you, please?" you reply. Palindrome has been to your quarters before and knows the route.

Palindrome takes your hand and ports the pair of you to the hangar entrance, where you both exit in view of the security guards, then Palindrome ports you again. You spawn in your quarters, where, to your delight, Cygnus is sitting on your sofa, a delighted Seabrooks puddling in their lap. Seabrooks gently nibbles Cygnus's glove as Cygnus displays a delighted emoticon at the sight of you.

"Phaeton, I must get back," says Palindrome, holding out their arms for a hug. You accept as Palindrome continues: "Come back to us when you can. Good to see you, Cygnus." Palindrome ends the hug with a nod to Cygnus, then peaces out in a cloud of black mist.

You stick something from the fridge into the microwave to re-heat, then sit next to Cygnus while you wait. Cygnus wraps an arm around you and pulls you close. You gratefully lean on them with a sigh.

"Oh, Cygnus," you say. You don't need to say any more. Your dear friend knows how you feel. You rest your eyes and bask in Cygnus's presence.

The microwave pings. "Do you want to put Seabrooks to bed while I plate that for you?" Cygnus asks.

"Thank you," you say, holding out your hands for Seabrooks to hop on. You give Seabrooks a fuss - she's happy to see you again. After you get her crated for the night, you return to the sofa, where Cygnus has a tray waiting for you.

"You saw the broadcast, I assume?" you ask Cygnus after a few bites of food.

"I did," says Cygnus. "…I don't know what's more frightening - the way the Cameras seem to have abandoned all self-preservation, or how badly our Titan was hurt." Cygnus displays an anguished emoticon briefly. "I've been helping to look after all the Cams who Sabre and the Imperator ported here." Cygnus's job as an inter-faction diplomat makes them good at such things. "It's been stressful but certainly not as much as it must have been for you."

"I am worried," you tell Cygnus in between eating cubes of sticky tofu. "The Titan is stable, and it got the samples… but that could have gone much worse than it did. If that poor Camera hadn't fired the distracting shot and bought time… and if the skibs hadn't shown up… I don't want to have to be grateful to them."

"I know," Cygnus says softly, then tries to stroke your back. Their effort is stymied by the harness you're wearing, impeding their hand's path. Cygnus opts instead for gently rubbing your upper back, where your neck joins.

"Let me finish this so I can cuddle you properly," you say, then continue eating. Once you're done, you let Cygnus pull you into a hug. The Titan won't begrudge you a couple of minutes of Cygnus cuddles before you get back to work. You lean on Cygnus and they cup the side of your head in one hand.

"Cygnus…" you begin. "Did I kill Titan Camera?"

You feel Cygnus jolt slightly as they process your question and are taken aback by it. "…Why would you think that?"

"I wasted time. Time that could have gone on upgrades. Maybe that could have saved her." The first time you'd met the Camera Titan, she mistook you for an enemy and tried to attack you, and your Imperator had to rescue you. "After the Imperator got me out of there, that could have been the end of it. It should have been the end of it. After you and the Imperator had explained the situation to Imperator Camera's team, I should have just let it go. But I had to go and ask if I could meet Titan Camera again. I shouldn't have done that. I should have just let it be."

"Phaeton, you… weren't to know what would happen. No-one could have. And Titan Camera and her crew could have declined your request; they chose not to. And… we still can't say for sure whether Titan Camera has been killed." Cygnus holds you a little closer.

"I don't know which would be worse," you say. "Just plain killed, or nearly dead with no way to call for help. I can't imagine how upset the Camera faction must be."

"You saw them for yourself on the broadcast," points out Cygnus. "They're taking too many risks. It's as though Imperator Camera doesn't care about survival any more."

You rub your head against Cygnus. "You know I'd love to stay with you. But I have to get back."

"Of course," says Cygnus. "Go back and help the Titan. It needs you right now, more than I do. Port you to the hangar?"

"If you would, please." You and Cygnus stand, and Cygnus ports you both to the hangar entrance. You part ways with a final quick hug, then you return to tend to your Titan.

You notice that while you were gone, some engineers had unpacked the Titan's new speakers and have begun replacing the damaged ones on the Titan's main head with them. At the Titan's back, engineers are welding new back-spikes to replace the Titan's missing ones. They look less finished than the remaining ones. You reckon these must be temporary stop-gap blades until new ones can be fabricated. Maybe Polycephaly will be able to retrieve the broken-off ones from the battlefield, you think.

Some more engineers are tidying up the torn panels on the Titan's back, where the replicated detaining arm, reverse-engineered from Astro tech, had been kept. It had been hard to keep quiet to everyone else outside the engineering and science teams about that weapon. You're proud of your engineering colleagues for how well you were collectively able to streamline the Titan's innards to fit it in.

You have mixed feelings about the scarlet jötunn ripping out the Titan's new weapon. It was a powerful weapon, hard-won - but you hadn't enjoyed the sight of harsh, ugly Astro tech attached to your beloved Titan. Now it's gone, wrecked. But the plans aren't gone, you remind yourself. Combined with the weapon the Titan managed to retrieve in its last battle, what else might Zenith and D67 be able to forge?

Zenith has you work on admin for the next couple of hours to give your mind and your legs a break from repair work. You sit in one of the glass-fronted control rooms on the hangar walls, reconciling all the reports that have been added to the hangar intranet today and submitting orders for the supplies that have been most depleted. It's not as exciting as working directly on the Titan, but this work is its own kind of satisfying. And it's slightly funny that you can directly draw upon your skills acquired during your work before the plague.

Your communicator chimes. You pick it up to receive a call from Zenith, who tells you: "Phaeton, we're wrapping it up for this evening." (You check the time. You've been here longer than your normal shift length in the hangar.) "Reach a suitable stopping point in whatever you're doing, then come join us on the lower floor."

You wrap up your tasks then take one of the lifts down. Most of the hangar lifts are goods-only, but there are a few to accommodate non-TVs who can't teleport and don't want to walk up several flights of stairs.

All engineers are now in a cuddle-pile between the Titan's hands. The Titan is lying prone, atop a recess in the hangar floor that accommodates the protrusions on its core chamber. The Titan's main head is still screenless, but its shoulder-screens are operational and mounted on their designated perches, looking over the snuggled nest of engineers.

"There you are, Phaeton," says the Titan through one of its sub-screens. "In you come."

Two engineers display smiling emoticons as they move apart to allow you to wriggle into the snuggle-club. Everyone has a charging cable inserted, clearly intending to bed here for the night.

"Room for another?" asks the Imperator. You turn to the unexpected sound of the Imperator's voice, and see they've spawned in along with their two guards Primus and Icarus.

"Imperator, good to see you," says Zenith. "Absolutely." Zenith displays a cheerful emoticon.

Engineer Twelve hands over another pair of charging cables to the Imperator to pass to their two guards, and accepts the Imperator's own charging cable (bespoke to fit their beefier charging port) to plug into the hangar circuits.

"At ease," says the Imperator to their two guards as they get plugged in, letting them know that they're free to join in the mass cuddle-pile instead of standing guard over their Imperator. The Titan adjusts its hands slightly to accommodate the trio, and rumbles its speakers delightedly (including the new ones on its main head - how rich the sound!).

"Club 15 hug?" suggests Palindrome as Primus and Icarus settle in. The two guards display smiling emoticons and move in for a cuddle with Palindrome.

"What's Club 15?" you ask.

"You remember that we were Titan candidates?" asks Palindrome, indicating themself, Primus and Icarus.

"Yes," you begin. "Oh - sixteen candidates. One became the Titan, and there were fifteen of you left over. Is that it?"

"Just so," says Primus. "We have club social meetings when we can, though that's rare with all our work schedules."

"Polycephaly's an honorary member," adds Icarus, "As they were a prototype for the Titan." (Once again, you wonder if that's really so or if Polycephaly just goes anywhere and nobody's stopped them yet.)

The two engineers at your sides squirm aside a little to allow the Imperator to arrive at your side. The Imperator displays a beaming emoticon and opens their arms to invite a hug - you gladly wriggle into their waiting arms.

"Imperator, you give such lovely hugs," you murmur as the Imperator gathers you up. "I needed that."

"I'm glad to know someone else who appreciates the power of a good hug," replies the Imperator. They press you to them a little longer before breaking off the hug and offering one to the nearest engineer.

The Titan adjusts its hands a little as the morass of cuddling TVs (and one human) repositions itself. "Just in time," says the Titan in response to the sound of an incoming teleport. "I wondered if you weren't coming."

"Polycephaly's here for you," says the originator of the teleport.

You look around and see Polycephaly, carrying Sabre. You guess the pair of them have been busy with field work. Polycephaly sets Sabre down and the pair move in to join the cuddle pile - Sabre burrowing into it (accepting a charging cable from Twelve) and Polycephaly lying down and bracketing the whole pile with their body. Polycephaly pulls their personal charging cable out of their inert core chamber (built as a prototype for the Titan's own) and passes it to Twelve to plug in.

The Titan purrs its speakers in appreciation of the gathering it's loosely holding. "Phaeton, I hope you'll spend the night with us," says the Titan. "But I understand if you need to return to your quarters."

"I used to live in the wilderness," you point out. "I can sleep in a chair with my wellies on. …But I'll be sore in the morning if I spend the whole night sleeping in my PPE on a hard surface. I'll nap here with everyone for a bit, then I'll push off to bed in my quarters for a few hours, then I'll come back here early for tomorrow's work." You'll need to let Seabrooks out and prepare breakfast for the pair of you.

"Anything you need," says the Titan. "I'd offer you all some cuddles with Legion, but that's just too much mental load right now. It's strange enough having no input from my main screen."

"Of course," you say. "We built Legion for you, after all. It's your choice when it comes out." You wedge yourself between a couple of engineers, enjoying their reassuring solidity and the warmth of techfolk bodies.

"My dear engineers," says the Titan softly. "I feel completely safe when I'm with you all. I must rest now, and I'm sure you need it too. Good night, all."

"Good night, Titan," says Zenith. "Tomorrow will be a better day."

Embryon turns off the lights in the hangar. Your surroundings are briefly lit by the Titan's shoulder screens and by all the assorted TVs', until the Titan turns its screens off, the discharging static crackling softly. The other TVs begin turning theirs off as they prepare to enter sleep mode, until the only illumination comes from the purple glow of the Titan's core chamber, little rays of light reflecting off the recess in the hangar floor and off the Titan's own plating.

Zenith was right, you think as you settle down for a snooze. Tomorrow will be a better day.