Chapter 3:The Restoration

One month later, the battered Chandelier was bustling with hundreds of people, milling about both above and below.

The Admiral was talking with his two new favorite soldiers inside the dusty control tower. He laid the repair list out on the table, next to the scribbled pieces of paper Pravdin had found.

"So, the main goal is to have this ship back on line in no more than two months, Major. I have assembled the top structural engineers, reactor specialists, and shipbuilders from our nation to meet that are to collaborate regularly to ensure that the repairs stay on schedule, and are of utmost quality."

"Yes, Sir."

"Now about these papers you found. Our archaeologists have attempted to decipher them, and they believe they were written by another species. I find it hard to believe that we are not the only ones inhabiting this planet."

"Indeed, Admiral. However, I believe I have a clue as to where these came from."

"And where would that be, Komarov?"

"Just before I discovered this ship, I came across the largest tree in existence, hidden in the fog you see out there. I think that an ancient race of creatures lives there. However, I did not explore the tree, since my mission was to find the Chandelier."

"I see. After we avert the threat from Bornholm in five months, I will advise some of our explorers to come and investigate that island. I do not think they will find anything of value, however."

"Thank you, Admiral Baskov."

"I will return in two months' time, Corporal Pravdin. Make sure that the ship is ready to be moved by then. I have to return to prepare the rest of the DME fleet. Good day, gentlemen."

The two partners watched from the control tower as Baskov was led to a waiting Slipstream aircraft. The jet disappeared into the dawn sky to the north.

They filed from the large instrument filled room and began patrolling the ship. Workers were busy polishing radar dishes and inspecting the communication masts.

A large group was huddled around the main cannon and running structural tests, as well as greasing the surfaces of the gears that controlled it.

Down below, the inside of the ship had become a miniature city. Racks of supplies and tools were being ferried about. People in all sorts of uniforms were shouting directions to their team mates, or busy holding instructions up for each other.

The middle of the ship consisted of the huge gallery that housed the control frame for the cannon, along with the huge clusters of electrical wires and support beams.

Several large passageways ran the length of the ship from this large space, leading to the myriad of other rooms throughout the hull.

Makeshift lights were strung along the ceiling of the massive gallery, providing just enough light to work by, and no more. Sparks spouted from the walls and ceiling down the length of the room, accompanied by the crackling sound of dozens of welding torches.

The large system of gears that served to orient the cannon was being welded and greased, and several people were hunched over the thick serpentine cables leading to and from the cannon.

The supervisor approached the two soldiers, and he had to shout to be heard over the constant echoing noise. "Everything is going as planned, Sir. The structural work is going well, and the cannon should be back to firing condition in about a month."

"That's what I like to hear, Supervisor. Keep it up! We are going to check on the reactor status now!"

The Supervisor turned and walked back into the fray, while Komarov and his partner trotted to a large hall. A small sign bolted to the wall listed the separate rooms that could be found.

It read: You are entering the aft section of the Chandelier. Left Hall:Dining Quarters. Right Hall:Supply/Ammo Storage. Lower Hall: Engine Room. Proceed with caution.

"I guess we need to go down the lower hall."

They set off down the dim metal walkway, having to slide past other workers and scientists headed back towards the front of the ship. A loud noise could be heard ahead, and it seemed to be emanating from behind a thick lead door.

Komarov knocked a few times and it slid open, allowing them inside. It was sealed shut behind them, and a team of confident people dressed in white coats were standing in front of the four imposing reactors.

Every so often, one would dash to a bank of makeshift computers, enter some data, and rush back to his colleagues.

He approached a rather studious woman and tapped her on the shoulder.

"How is the reactor diagnosis going?"

"Oh, hello Sir. You are?"

"Please forgive me. I am Major Komarov, and this is my partner, Corporal Pravdin. We are the supervisors of the repair work going on here."

"I see. Well, the reactors still have fuel left, but we are not sure if the time they spent shutdown has degraded that fuel."

"What is the remedy to the situation?"

"We need to have four new fuel containers brought here to replace the fuel already in the reactors."

"So, you are saying that the reactors will not operate?"

"We have been trying to start them up, but with little success."

She turned to a blond haired man in front of the computer bank and shouted, "Hey, Bohr, try to spin up the reactors again!"

They watched as he clicked a few keys on the computer and stared at the screens. A reverberating rumble shook the entire room, and cascades of dust rained from the arched roof high above.

The rumble grew to a roar that lasted for a few seconds, and the room suddenly brightened from the surge of energy to the lights. However, the roar faded away, and frustrated silence filled the now dim room.

"How long will it take for the fuel to be replaced?"

"A day, at most, Sir. The real problem is getting it to the ship first."

"Hmmm, this is an unfortunate situation. I will have to contact the Admiral as soon as possible. Thank you for your report."

They turned and exited the engine room, slowly making their way back up to the control room on the deck. He entered the room with Pravdin in tow, and picked up a phone mounted on the wall.

As it rang, he flopped down into the chair and rubbed his aching forehead. A gruff voice answered, "Hello?"

"Admiral Baskov, this is Major Komarov. I have some news to report."

"Ah, hello Major. What is your report?"

"The remodeling of the gallery and the cannon itself are going very well. However, the condition of the reactors is...depressing, Sir."

"Well, that simply will not do, Major. What is the problem?"

"The reactors need a fresh supply of fuel."

"Oh, do they now? I thought it was much more complicated than that. I can send in an application to the Energy Headquarters. How many do you need?"

"Four canisters of fusion grade hydrogen for Model 2130B reactors, Sir."

"Excellent! I will have the fuel delivered within one month, Major. Keep the repairs going. Bornholm will not wait for you to be ready..."

Komarov heard a soft click, and returned the phone to the wall mount.

"It looks like the reactor problem will not be an obstacle now, Corporal. The fuel will arrive within a short month, and I hope the ship will be ready to move by then."

"That is indeed good news! I worried that we would not be able to power the ship up in time!"

Komarov gazed down at the messy table and picked up the shriveled sheets of paper.

"Can you bring in the researchers to explain the meaning of this nonsense, Pravdin?"

"Sure, Komarov!"

He returned shortly with the small team in tow, and they began to explain the symbols and meanings of the writing that crisscrossed the worn pages.

I have a feeling whoever created these documents are not, in the least, like us. I think they are a civilization that has been living in that tree for ages, and we never knew...