The Foundry of the Void did not feel like the front line of a war. It was a sanctuary for the gear and the intellect. At its center, the Temporal Stabilizer Array, a sphere of brass and glass intrinsically linked to Phobos's geothermal network, hummed with a controlled power. Josh, Doric, and Kalea were seated on overturned oil drums, observed by three of the Iron Scholars—the gray-haired woman Josh had deduced was the leader, and two silent men whose hands were as calloused as Doric's.
Josh, feeling the weight of the Aether-Core resting in his lap, finally allowed himself a deep breath. Phobos's sterile air was a balm after the smog and the fear.
"What you did," Doric began, his tone a mix of respect and profound distrust, "that thing you did to the Kyklops... you were acting like Ajax the Strategos. That is the Resonance Feedback trick he theorized years ago, but never dared to attempt. It was brilliant insanity."
"It wasn't brilliant. It was panic and basic physics," Josh replied, rubbing the Aether-Core. "I'm a fusion reactor engineer. I designed circuits to manage power spikes. When your giant automaton tried to absorb the Core's energy, I simply reversed the flow and amplified its own inductive draw past its internal regulator's breaking point. It's an elegant short-circuit."
Kalea, perched on the edge of her drum, arms crossed over her Psylli harness, tilted her head. Her armor, a thinner, more aerodynamic metal than Doric's, made her look like a scientist ready for flight.
"Fusion reactors," Kalea mused. "You speak of world-melting energy with an air of disinterest. What was your name again?"
"Josh. Josh Harper. And no, I didn't melt worlds," he said, a wry smile touching his lips. "I mostly designed safety systems for large power projects. In my spare time, I was working on the design for a... for a coffee maker."
Doric blinked, his colossal face showing genuine confusion. "A... coffee maker? An automaton to make infusions of grain?"
"No. A machine that uses electricity to heat water and mix it with ground coffee," Josh explained, realizing the futility of his words. "It was my side gig. Most of my colleagues back on Earth would tell you my most important work was ensuring no one burned their breakfast."
Doric let out a sharp, loud laugh that echoed in the rock chamber. "The Strategos was a military-philosophical genius. You are a genius of... Kettle Logic? By Elysium! The Gods of the Gear have a sense of humor."
Kalea, however, was not laughing. She stood and walked slowly around Josh, examining the Core. "You are a Temporal Anomaly, Josh. Ajax designed the Zeus Protocol over a century ago. He vanished, and in the same instant, you appeared with the Core in hand. Your body is his, but your mind is from a time where geothermal energy is a detail, not a source. We cannot judge you. Your 'kettle logic' survived the 'Kyklops logic.' That is what matters."
The leader of the Scholars, the gray-haired woman named Lysandra, approached. Her eyes were calm and intelligent. "The Temporal Stabilizer Array is ready, Josh," she said. "Your touch is all that is missing. The Core needs an anchor before its energy resonates and destabilizes us. You have brought the instability of a future that never was to mend the present. It is a paradox we accept."
Josh stood up, feeling more confident than at any point since the "transmigration." Engineering was his language. "Show me what it needs."
He spent the next hour immersed in the Array, working with his hands alongside the Scholars. The device was of a complex beauty, built to act as an energy shunt, channeling the Core's raw force into Phobos's stable geothermal generators. As he worked, Kalea and Doric moved away for a hushed conversation, discussing the inevitability of Phrixus. The silence, the rhythm, and the focus returned Josh to his sense of self. He wasn't Ajax, the Strategos, but Josh, the engineer who fixed the world.
He finally nestled the Aether-Core into the Array's primary compartment. The Core's light no longer pulsed hysterically. Instead, it merged into a stable blue glow, and the entire chamber emitted a resonant hum that he knew was the sound of equilibrium.
"Done," he said, wiping brass oil from his hands. "It's stable. Now, we can use its energy for the Zeus Protocol."
Lysandra smiled, a rare moment of relief. "Kettle Logic has prevailed. Now the city can live."
But the peace lasted only a breath.
One of the Iron Scholars, a thin, pale man who had been monitoring the Abyssal Compass, rushed toward them, his face contorted in a new kind of terror that wasn't caused by automatons or assassins.
"Lysandra! The system... the Compass is emitting an intrusion warning, but the anomaly is not magnetic. It's organic." The man was gasping, gripping Kalea's shoulder. "The quarantine system at the Superior Border has been breached. Not by brute force, but by an ancient access code."
Lysandra hardened. "What is your point, Andronikos? Phobos's Logic is stable."
The man, Andronikos, gave a deep sob. He looked at the floor, unable to face Lysandra.
"They didn't come for the Core or the Strategos, Lysandra. They came for your flaw." He looked up, panic flooding his voice. "Kassandra is gone! She was supposed to be here, helping monitor the readings. I've looked everywhere. Phrixus, the Iron-Bound... he used us. He exploited the only 'imperfection' we allow—a father's love. He took her."
The air in the Foundry of the Void was no longer peaceful. The stable resonance of the Aether-Core was being suffocated by the tension of a new, and deeply personal, conflict.
TO BE CONTINUED