ARK NOVA

Chapter 5 The First Rivet

The command deck had transformed. What was once a crisis center was now the nerve center of a desperate, ship-wide construction project. The main viewscreen, no longer filled with the ghost of a dying Earth, now displayed a live schematic of the Ark Nova, with entire sections highlighted in amber and red—zones designated for resource reclamation.

Aurora stood before it, a cup of nutrient paste—the bland, gray sustenance that passed for food—growing cold in her hand. Her speech had bought them a sliver of momentum, but momentum was a fragile thing. The QAS morale meter had crept up to 24, but it flickered there, stubbornly refusing to climb higher. It was a digital representation of the ship’s mood: a populace pulled back from the brink, but now staring into a new abyss of hard labor and uncertain reward.

“The Colony Division is officially mustered,” Mac reported, his voice gravelly with fatigue. He’d been working for eighteen straight hours, turning Aurora’s grand vision into a logistical reality. “We’ve got three thousand volunteers for the first rotation. The rest are… hesitant.”

“Hesitant is better than mutinous,” Aurora replied, taking a sip of the paste. It tasted like chalk and desperation. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem, Captain,” Mac said, gesturing to a personnel manifest on his datapad, “is that our last census on Earth listed Dr. Aris Thorne as a poet laureate. Today, I had to assign him to a plasma cutting crew. We’re asking concert violinists to recalibrate power conduits and historians to haul girders. They’re willing, mostly. But they’re also terrified of making a mistake that could kill everyone.”

He wasn’t wrong. The Ark Nova was a microcosm of Earth’s best and brightest, but it was a society built for culture and intellect, not for a deep-space salvage operation.

The QAS chimed, displaying a new project management window.

Project: Hydroponics Bay (Tier 1)

Progress: 0%

Time Remaining: 12 days, 18 hours.

Worker Efficiency: 31% (Sub-Optimal)

Resource Allocation:

- Metals: 12/5,000 (Collection Initiated)

- Energy Units: 50/1,200 (Diverted from non-essential systems)

- Bio-Matter: 500/500 (Secure in Cryo-Storage)

Thirty-one percent efficiency. The number was a punch to the gut. At this rate, they wouldn’t finish in twelve days; they’d be lucky to finish in twelve weeks.

“We need a catalyst,” Linh said, joining them. She had dark circles under her eyes, but they were the circles of a scientist consumed by a problem, not by despair. “The people need to see that this is possible. They need a small, quick victory to build their confidence.”

“A victory?” Mac scoffed. “Linh, right now we’re trying to teach a botanist how to safely dismantle a bulkhead. Our first victory will be getting through the day without a hull breach.”

Aurora looked at the schematic of the hydroponics bay, then at the ship itself. The design was modular. It didn’t have to be built all at once.

“You’re right, Linh,” Aurora said, a plan forming in her mind. “We don’t start by tearing the ship apart. We start by building the first piece. The very first one.” She pointed to a small, foundational component on the blueprint. “The primary irrigation nexus. It’s a complex piece, but it’s self-contained. Mac, I want you to pull the most skilled engineers and mechanics we have. Forget the volunteers for now. I want our best. Put them in Cargo Bay 4. Give them everything they need.”

“And what do the other three thousand volunteers do?” Mac asked, skeptical.

“They watch,” Aurora said. “We’ll set up a live feed. Let them see their experts at work. Let them see something being created, not just destroyed. It’s not about efficiency today. It’s about a demonstration of competence. A symbol.”

It was another gamble. Pulling their best talent for a symbolic gesture felt wasteful, but her gut, the same instinct that had served her as a test pilot, told her it was the right move.

The next few hours were a blur of organized chaos. Cargo Bay 4, a cavernous space once filled with now-useless atmospheric sensors, was converted into a workshop. Under Linh’s direct supervision, a team of twenty specialists—veteran welders, robotics engineers, and even a quiet, unassuming watchmaker with a legendary talent for micro-mechanics—was assembled.

Aurora made her way down from the bridge, the air growing warmer and thick with the smell of ozone as she approached the bay. A crowd had gathered outside the transparent partition Mac had erected, their faces pressed against the plasteel, watching in silence.

Inside, the team worked with a quiet, focused intensity. Metal shrieked as it was cut. Power tools whined. There were no wasted movements. It was a stark contrast to the panicked fumbling she’d heard about in the other work crews. This was a ballet of creation.

At the center of it all was a young woman Aurora recognized from the crew manifest: Kei Tanaka. A junior engineer, barely out of her teens, who had been assigned to the Ark by a stroke of luck. She moved with an innate understanding of the machinery, her hands dancing over control panels, guiding a heavy robotic arm to place a micro-conduit with millimeter precision. She wasn’t just following Linh’s instructions; she was anticipating them.

Hours passed. The crowd outside the partition grew. They brought nutrient packs and water bulbs, sharing them as they watched. The poet, Dr. Thorne, was there, his face filled not with fear, but with a look of rapt fascination.

Finally, Linh’s voice came over the local comm. “Final component in place. Kei, if you would do the honors.”

Kei Tanaka, her face smudged with grease and shining with sweat, looked up at the assembly. It was a complex lattice of pipes, valves, and processors, about the size of a small car. She took a deep breath and activated the final plasma seal. A brilliant blue light flared for a moment, and then it was done. A single, perfect rivet, the very first piece of the Hydroponics Bay, glowed with residual heat.

A spontaneous cheer erupted from the crowd outside. It started as a few scattered claps and grew into a wave of applause that echoed through the cavernous bay.

On Aurora’s QAS interface, a notification popped up.

Project Milestone Achieved: Irrigation Nexus Assembled.

Project Progress: 1%

Worker Efficiency: 34% (Sub-Optimal)

Morale: 26/100 (Critical)

The numbers had barely moved. But as Aurora looked at the faces of the people watching—the hope dawning in their eyes, the way they stood a little straighter—she knew she had won more than a single percentage point.

Kei Tanaka caught her eye through the partition and gave a small, exhausted nod. In that moment, Aurora didn’t see a junior engineer. She saw the future of humanity, holding a welding torch.

The first rivet was in place. They had twelve days to place a million more.