Tanya knew that the atmospheric surfer was going to be complicated, but she found herself filled with excitement for the project. It wasn't a ship that would save society or revolutionise interstellar transport, but she knew that everything she learned from it would improve all her other projects. Sometimes the best innovations came from the most impractical dreams. The reward was also nice.
She also knew it was a means to an end— a way to gain allies who could help turn her other projects into reality. She still harboured dreams of fixing Red Arm, getting neutral interfaces working, and enabling everyone to travel through space worry-free.
"You know what?" she said to her workshop, stretching her arms above her head with satisfaction. "I think this is going to be the most fun I've had since building my first model rocket."
For the initial testing phase, she decided to start with the most critical component: the atmospheric surfboard. The stabilising foil that would let her test atmospheric flight principles in thick gas environments. It had to be near indestructible, or at least easily replaceable. She was definitely going for indestructible.
She would need a significant amount of her adaptive hull material and the quantum-enhanced alloy that had made the Vanguard's hull special. Her goal was to produce a board that achieved the same quantum enhancement, something that would handle the crushing pressures and chaotic forces of gas giant atmospheres.
She sat down at her design interface and developed a chevron-style foil that looked angular and aggressive, like it could cut through anything with ease. She designed mounting brackets to attach it to the bottom of the Vanguard for testing purposes.
"Don't worry, gorgeous," she said, patting the ship's hull affectionately. "This won't hurt a bit. Think of it as getting an awesome new pair of shoes."
Her first attempt at building the board was... disappointing. It came out as a perfectly functional but utterly ordinary piece of engineering. Good materials, solid construction, completely devoid of the quantum enhancement that made her ship's hull special.
"Well, that's just regular," she said to the uninspiring board, putting it into the recycler. "Sorry for the mean things I said about you when I first discovered you. You're actually quite helpful." She gave the recycler a quick pat.
She concentrated as hard as she could for her second attempt, focusing her will and determination on creating something extraordinary. She had a clear picture of what she wanted to achieve, but the result was somehow worse than the first attempt. The molecular alignment was actually less stable than standard materials. Part of the board simply fell apart without any pressure being applied to it.
//Observation: Your previous success was achieved through intuitive craftsmanship rather than conscious control. You do not yet possess the theoretical knowledge to replicate the effect deliberately.//
"So I have to... feel my way through it?" Tanya asked, staring at her second failed board.
//Correct. You must craft it rather than manufacture it. The difference is significant.//
Tanya took a break to consider what Sage was saying, settling into her workshop chair with a glass of water. She had to reset her mindset entirely. This wasn't about forcing her will onto the material. Instead, it was about letting the components guide her. She was a craftswoman, not a factory worker. An artist, not an assembly line.
Tanya stepped back from the fabrication equipment and closed her eyes, letting her frustration with the failed attempts settle into something calmer. She'd learned this technique from her mother when she was struggling with school. She had found that forcing your way through problems usually made them worse.
She found the workshop's small alcove where she sometimes went to think, settling cross-legged on the floor with her back against the warm metal wall. The ambient sounds of the workshop created an oddly soothing background rhythm.
"Breathe," she told herself, following the pattern her mother had taught her for managing pre-exam anxiety. In for four counts, hold for four, out for four. Let the tension drain from her shoulders, her jaw, her hands.
The first two attempts had failed because she'd been trying to impose her will on the materials instead of working with them. She thought about her father's hands as he worked with wood—never fighting the grain, always finding the natural lines of strength and following them.
She thought about her grandmother's gardening, how she'd taught Tanya to listen to what plants needed rather than assuming she knew best. "The plants will tell you what they want," she used to say. "You just have to be quiet enough to hear it."
Maybe quantum enhancement worked the same way. Maybe instead of trying to control the process, she needed to become part of it… to let her intuition guide her hands while her conscious mind stepped back and stopped interfering.
She opened her eyes, feeling centered and ready to try a completely different approach.
"Right," she said, taking deep breaths and approaching the fabrication equipment with a completely different attitude. "Let's try this again. But this time, we work together."
For round three, she listened to the material, reaching out with senses she couldn't quite name to feel how the components wanted to fit together. Each panel spoke to her in ways she couldn't explain; it was like they knew where they belonged, how they wanted to be shaped, what configuration would make them sing in harmony.
She still didn't understand the science behind it, and she knew she couldn't mass-produce this effect, but as she worked, she felt excitement building. It was almost a transcendent experience, each piece finding its place with an inevitability that felt like destiny. When the final component locked into position, she could feel the change ripple through the entire assembly—like it had become more than the sum of its parts.
"That felt..." she started, then trailed off, struggling for words.
//The sensation you experienced is quantum field alignment, achieving resonance with local space-time. The effect appears mystical but is entirely scientific.//
"Are you sure?" Tanya asked, still staring at her creation with something approaching awe. "Because that felt pretty magical to me."
//Science and wonder are not mutually exclusive. Understanding the mechanism does not diminish the beauty of the effect.//
She attached the finished board to the Vanguard, the quantum-enhanced foil gleaming like liquid starlight against the ship's hull. It looked predatory, dangerous, absolutely perfect for slicing through atmospheric chaos.
"Well, gorgeous," she said to the combined vessel, "ready to see if we can fly like a fish through cosmic soup?"
//Achievement unlocked: Quantum Enhancement Level 1. Knowledge transfer initiating.//
Tanya didn't have time to respond to Sage's unexpected announcement before a brief spike of information integrated itself with her existing knowledge. This time, instead of the overwhelming flood she'd experienced before, the data settled into place like puzzle pieces, finding their proper positions. She understood the process now, well, not completely, but enough to believe she could replicate the effect in future projects when needed.
Before heading out for the maiden test flight, she decided it was time to bring Cameron and Janet into the loop about her real workshop capabilities. The atmospheric surfer project would require their expertise, and she couldn't complete it working alone. The week aboard the Vanguard had made it clear to Tanya that they could be trusted.
She found them in the company's planet-side facility, Cameron absorbed in beacon calibration calculations while Janet refined her drone variants.
"I need to show you something," she announced. "But fair warning—it's going to challenge some assumptions about what's possible."
Cameron looked up from his work with mild curiosity. Janet's expression suggested she was expecting another technical demonstration rather than anything shocking.
"Sage," Tanya said aloud, "could you transport us to the workshop?"
The three of them vanished in a shimmer of displaced air, reappearing moments later in her dimensional workshop. Cameron and Janet both took in the impossible architecture with what Tanya noticed was less shock than she'd expected and more like recognition mixed with awe.
"Well," Janet said after a moment, her voice carrying a note of familiarity rather than disbelief, "this explains quite a few things about your rapid development timeline."
"You're not... surprised by the teleportation?" Tanya asked, studying their reactions carefully.
Cameron exchanged a glance with his sister. "Let's just say we've encountered similar technologies before," he said diplomatically. "Our father's work involved some unusual capabilities."
"Welcome to my real workshop," Tanya said, filing away that interesting non-answer for later discussion. It all but confirmed her theory that their father was bonded to The Lady. "This is where the magic happens."
//It's not magic, // stated Sage in her mind.
Janet was already cataloguing the advanced fabrication equipment around them with the practised eye of someone who'd seen sophisticated technology before. "The scale is impressive. How long have you had access to this level of manufacturing capability?"
"Since I got back from university," Tanya explained, leading them toward the Vanguard with its newly attached atmospheric foil. "The workshop is part of an educational system designed to train advanced shipwrights."
She loaded them aboard the upgraded vessel and set course for the system's only gas giant. It took some time to depart, as Cameron wouldn't leave the surfboard alone. He kept running his hands over its surface as if he could glean all its secrets through touch.
The gas giant loomed larger in their viewports, thanks to a beacon that was left nearby, its swirling bands of colour and massive storm systems creating a beautiful but intimidating vista. Tanya felt the familiar excitement of testing untested technology mixed with the nervousness of potentially spectacular failure.
"Board's secure," she said, fingers skating over the controls. The foil gleamed as the lights from the Vanguard reflected off it. "Let's see if you can really surf."
They angled into the upper atmosphere, the transition immediate. The ship shuddered as gases clutched at the hull, pressure rising, temperature gauges flaring with warnings that made Tanya's stomach clench. The foil caught the first current like a hook in turbulent water, yanking the Vanguard sideways so violently her harness cut into her shoulders.
"Whoa!" Janet barked, bracing herself against the console. "That's not flying, that's… getting mugged."
"Wave interaction detected," Cameron said, voice tight but eyes alive as streams of data scrolled past his displays. "We're translating turbulence into forward thrust."
Tanya almost rolled her eyes. That was the point of what they were doing, but she didn't have the heart to tell him that.
Another gust hit, stronger. Tanya's teeth rattled. The foil bit into the dense hydrogen layer, and instead of resisting, it rode the surge. For a terrifying instant, they dropped, stomachs rising into their throats but then the ship levelled, momentum slingshotting them along the storm front. The hull sang, a deep metallic vibration that resonated through the deck like an instrument straining against its own limits.
Tanya grinned, adrenaline flooding her veins. "She wants to dive. You feel that?"
"I feel like my organs are about to swap places," Janet shot back, but there was laughter in her voice.
The display lit up with storm maps with pressure ridges, magnetic eddies and thermal updrafts or displayed in pretty colours and with suitable icons. Tanya found herself flying on instinct, hands moving faster than conscious thought. She tipped the Vanguard's nose down, felt the foil slice into a denser layer, then pulled back hard as another current threatened to slam them deeper. The ship shuddered, complained, then surged forward like it had been born for this.
"This is…" Cameron's voice cracked with rare excitement. "Tanya, the data—! We're generating stable lift from chaotic vectors. The foil is working."
Lightning strobed through the storm from the static electricity created by the interaction of the atmosphere and the foil. It painted the camera views in violet light. Tanya's heart hammered in her chest. This was no test flight anymore; this was dancing with a gas giant, surfing storms big enough to swallow Earth whole.
"Successful?" Janet asked, hair floating from the static charge creeping into the cabin.
Tanya's grin widened, reckless and certain. "Hell yes. Now…" she nudged the controls, feeling the foil tug them toward the darker bands where the atmosphere boiled hotter and denser— "who's ready to go deeper and see what this thing can really do?"