If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
They stood there for a moment in silence, watching the moonlight reflect off the convoy vehicles as the future was moving now.
Night slowly gave way to the pale light of early morning.
Sanctuary was still half-asleep when the first engines turned over.
The sound rolled softly through the quiet streets like distant thunder.
One by one the convoy vehicles came alive.
The three transport trucks rumbled first, their engines vibrating through the wooden bridge that connected Sanctuary to the road beyond.
Moments later the Humvees followed, headlights briefly cutting through the grey dawn before the sun began climbing over the horizon.
Soldiers moved with quiet efficiency.
They had done this many times before.
But the feeling this morning was different.
Because today they weren't escorting weapons.
Or ammunition.
Or medical supplies.
They were escorting people.
Workers.
Builders.
The men and women who would bring the shipyard to life.
Preston walked slowly along the line of vehicles, checking each one one last time.
The first truck held mostly general labor workers.
The second carried welders and metal workers.
The third truck carried the engine technicians and mechanical specialists.
Some of them sat quietly inside the truck beds, holding toolboxes between their boots.
Others leaned against the metal walls, staring out at the slowly waking settlement.
Many looked nervous.
But many looked excited too.
The fisherman from Nahant Harbor sat near the back of the second truck.
He rested one elbow on the wooden railing and looked toward the river running beside Sanctuary.
"Last quiet water I'll see for a while," he muttered.
The mechanic sitting beside him chuckled.
"Not if the boats work."
The fisherman smiled faintly.
"Fair point."
Across the square, Magnolia stood beside Sico watching the convoy preparations.
She held her clipboard, but she wasn't writing anything now.
She was simply watching the people she had recruited.
People who were about to start something none of them had ever done before.
"Sixty-four," she said quietly.
Sico nodded.
"Enough to start."
Magnolia looked at him.
"You're really building a navy."
Sico didn't answer immediately.
Instead he watched Preston climb into the lead Humvee.
Then he spoke quietly.
"We're building the future."
Magnolia smiled faintly.
"Let's hope the Commonwealth is ready for it."
Preston's voice crackled over the convoy radio.
"Alright everyone. Engines steady. Formation Alpha."
The soldiers acknowledged one by one.
Humvee One rolled forward first.
Behind it came Truck One.
Then Humvee Two.
Truck Two.
Humvee Three.
And finally Truck Three.
The convoy slowly crossed the Sanctuary bridge and rolled onto the cracked remains of the old highway.
Dust rose behind the tires as they picked up speed.
The morning air was cool as the convoy moved through the wilderness.
Ruined houses passed slowly on both sides of the road.
Collapsed billboards leaned at odd angles above the cracked asphalt.
Trees had grown through broken concrete in places where civilization had long since faded away.
Inside the second truck, the workers talked quietly among themselves.
Some discussed tools.
Others discussed the ocean.
The fisherman leaned forward slightly.
"You ever actually seen a real ship?" one of the younger welders asked him.
The fisherman nodded slowly.
"Before the war, yeah."
"What were they like?"
He thought for a moment.
"Big."
"That's the first thing you notice."
He gestured with his hands.
"Steel hulls taller than buildings. Engines louder than thunder."
The younger man's eyes widened slightly.
"You think we can build something like that?"
The fisherman shrugged.
"Not right away."
Then he smiled.
"But every shipyard starts with the first boat."
Up front, Preston sat in the passenger seat of the lead Humvee scanning the road ahead through binoculars.
The driver glanced at him.
"Anything?"
Preston lowered the binoculars.
"Nothing yet."
The radio crackled.
Humvee Three reporting.
"Road ahead clear. No movement in the treeline."
Preston nodded.
"Maintain spacing."
The convoy rolled forward steadily.
They passed through the outskirts of Lexington just before midday.
Freemason patrols stationed along the corridor saluted as the vehicles passed.
A few settlers paused from their work to watch the convoy rumble by.
Many of them knew what those trucks carried.
News of the shipyard had already spread across the Commonwealth.
Hope traveled faster than most people expected.
Several hours later, the air began to change.
The faint scent of salt drifted through the open truck windows.
The fisherman noticed it immediately.
He inhaled deeply.
"That's the ocean."
Several workers looked around.
"You can smell it already?"
He nodded.
"Always could."
Moments later the road curved along a rise in the land.
And then they saw it.
The Atlantic Ocean stretched across the horizon.
Endless grey water reflecting the afternoon sunlight.
Many of the workers leaned forward in their seats to look.
For some of them it was the first time they had ever seen the ocean.
One young laborer whispered quietly.
"Wow."
The convoy approached the Castle fortress from the north road just as the sun began dipping toward the western sky.
The massive stone walls rose above the coastline like an ancient guardian.
Freemason guards stationed along the walls spotted the convoy immediately.
The main gate slowly opened.
Ronnie Shaw stood waiting just inside the courtyard with several soldiers.
Preston's Humvee rolled to a stop beside her.
He stepped out.
"Evening, Ronnie."
She glanced toward the trucks behind him.
"Looks like Magnolia delivered."
"Sixty-four workers," Preston said.
Ronnie nodded.
"Mel's gonna be happy."
She gestured toward the coastal road.
"The shipyard's about half a mile that way."
Preston turned and signaled the convoy forward.
"Let's finish the trip."
The road from the Castle to the shipyard ran along the coastline.
And when the convoy finally crested the last hill.
The workers saw it.
The boat factory.
The massive structure stood beside the shoreline like a steel giant.
Towering gantry cranes stretched high into the sky.
Long rails ran across the assembly floor.
Launch ramps descended toward the water.
And lights illuminated the interior where engineers still moved between workstations.
Inside the trucks, several workers stared in awe.
"Holy…"
The fisherman whistled softly.
"Well I'll be damned."
The convoy rolled through the open factory gate and slowly came to a stop inside the massive structure.
The sound of engines echoed through the metal walls.
Workers stepped out of the trucks slowly, looking around in disbelief.
For many of them, this was the largest industrial structure they had ever seen.
And standing near the center of the assembly floor was Mel.
Mel walked forward with several engineers behind him.
His expression lit up the moment he saw the convoy.
"Well look at that!"
He clapped his hands once.
"You actually brought us workers!"
Preston chuckled as he climbed down from the Humvee.
"Magnolia did the hard part."
Mel nodded approvingly as the workers gathered around.
"Alright everyone, listen up!"
The room gradually quieted.
Mel gestured around the shipyard.
"This place is your new workplace."
He pointed toward the massive steel framework beside the launch rails.
"That's where the first hull is going to be built."
Several workers exchanged excited glances.
Mel continued.
"You're not just building boats."
"You're building the Commonwealth's first naval fleet."
He reached into a leather folder and pulled out several blueprint sheets.
The pages were thick with diagrams and measurements.
He handed them to one of the older workers standing near the front.
The fisherman from Nahant Harbor.
"You look like someone who knows his way around a dock."
The fisherman studied the blueprint carefully.
His eyebrows rose slowly.
"Damn…"
He looked back up.
"This is serious work."
Mel grinned.
"Of course it is."
Then he pointed to the blueprint.
"Start studying that."
"Tomorrow morning we begin building."
While Mel introduced the workers to the factory floor, another group of engineers were working near the side offices.
Sturges and his team were packing crates.
Tools.
Blueprint copies.
Personal gear.
One of the engineers looked confused.
"You sure you're leaving now?"
Sturges nodded.
"Yep."
He sealed a toolbox and slid it into a crate.
"Our job was building the place."
He gestured toward Mel across the factory floor.
"Now it's his job to run it."
The engineer smiled.
"Guess Sanctuary will miss you."
Sturges chuckled.
"I'm not going far."
He looked toward Preston standing near the convoy.
"Just riding back with them."
By sunset the factory floor was alive with activity.
Workers explored the assembly stations.
Engineers explained machinery.
Tool racks were organized.
Blueprints were pinned to drafting boards.
The fisherman studied the hull design with two welders beside him.
"This section here," he said, tapping the blueprint.
"That's where the keel reinforcement goes."
One of the welders nodded slowly.
"Means the hull won't twist under wave impact."
The fisherman smiled.
"Exactly."
Mel watched them from across the floor.
Satisfied.
The shipyard was alive now.
Outside, the convoy vehicles waited near the factory gate.
Sturges and his engineers finished loading their crates into the trucks.
Preston walked over.
"Everything packed?"
Sturges wiped grease from his hands.
"Yep."
He looked back toward the massive factory building.
"Not bad for a week's work."
Preston chuckled.
"You built a shipyard in the wasteland."
Sturges shrugged.
"Had good help."
Before the convoy left, Mel walked out to meet them.
He shook Sturges' hand firmly.
"Thanks for building this place."
Sturges grinned.
"Now don't blow it up."
Mel laughed.
"No promises."
Preston climbed into the lead Humvee again.
"Time to head home."
The convoy engines started once more.
But this time the trucks were lighter.
The workers stayed behind.
Inside the factory.
Where the first ship of the Commonwealth navy would soon begin to take shape.
As the convoy rolled away from the shipyard, Mel turned back toward the massive building behind him.
Workers were already studying blueprints under the bright factory lights.
Tools clanged.
Voices echoed across the assembly floor.
Morning came to the coastline slowly.
Not with the quiet softness Sanctuary often woke to.
But with sound.
Real sound.
Metal.
Voices.
Movement.
The shipyard that had stood silent only days before now echoed with life.
The first rays of sunlight slipped over the Atlantic horizon, painting the water with pale gold as waves rolled lazily against the shoreline below the launch ramps.
Seagulls circled overhead, their sharp cries carried on the cool sea wind.
Inside the boat factory, the day had already begun.
Floodlights still glowed above the massive assembly floor as workers moved between stations preparing tools and equipment.
The smell of saltwater mixed with the heavy scent of machine oil and freshly cut steel.
Mel stood on the raised metal platform overlooking the assembly floor, coffee cup in one hand, eyes slowly scanning the activity below.
He hadn't slept much.
Maybe three hours.
But he didn't look tired.
He looked energized.
Because this morning wasn't just another day of work.
This was the beginning.
The first ship.
The first real naval vessel of the Freemasons Republic.
Below him, the sixty-four workers Magnolia had recruited were already spreading across the factory floor.
Some gathered around welding stations.
Others rolled carts of metal plating toward the construction rails.
Several mechanics moved toward the engine assembly area where crates of salvaged marine engines sat waiting to be rebuilt.
The fisherman from Nahant Harbor stood near the large drafting board where Mel had pinned the blueprints the night before.
A few welders and laborers stood beside him, studying the diagrams carefully.
He had a pencil tucked behind his ear now.
He tapped one corner of the blueprint thoughtfully.
"This is where the keel starts."
One of the younger workers leaned closer.
"The backbone of the boat, right?"
The fisherman nodded.
"Exactly."
He ran his finger along the blueprint.
"If the keel is wrong, everything else ends up wrong."
Another worker scratched his chin.
"So we start there first?"
The fisherman smiled slightly.
"We start there slow."
Across the room, Mel took a sip of coffee and watched the group for a moment.
Then he turned and walked down the metal stairs toward the factory floor.
The clang of his boots echoed lightly against the steel steps.
As he reached the bottom, several workers glanced up.
Mel clapped his hands once loudly.
"Alright!"
His voice carried easily through the massive building.
"Everyone gather up for a minute!"
The workers began drifting toward him.
Not rushed.
Just curious.
Soon a loose semicircle formed around him near the central assembly rails where the first hull would be built.
The enormous gantry crane overhead hung silent for the moment, its steel cables swaying gently in the sea breeze that drifted through the open factory doors.
Mel looked at the faces in front of him.
Sixty-four people.
Laborers.
Welders.
Mechanics.
Dockworkers.
Fishermen.
People from settlements scattered across the Commonwealth.
Some nervous.
Some excited.
Some still unsure what exactly they had signed up for.
Mel rested his hands on his hips.
"Morning everyone."
A few voices responded back.
"Morning."
"Morning, boss."
Mel smirked slightly.
"Don't call me boss yet."
A few workers chuckled quietly.
He gestured toward the giant empty construction rails behind him.
"You see that space?"
Everyone turned slightly.
The rails stretched nearly sixty meters toward the launch ramp that descended into the ocean.
Empty.
For now.
Mel continued.
"By the end of today, that empty space will have the backbone of the first boat ever built for the Freemasons Republic."
The workers exchanged looks.
The weight of the moment slowly settling in.
Mel pointed toward the blueprint board.
"You've all seen the plans by now."
The fisherman nodded quietly from the front.
Mel continued.
"This isn't some fancy pre-war warship."
"No giant battleship."
"No aircraft carrier."
He shrugged.
"We're starting small."
"But small doesn't mean weak."
He walked over and grabbed one of the blueprint sheets.
Holding it up.
"This is a coastal patrol boat."
He tapped the diagram.
"Fast."
"Durable."
"Easy to maintain."
"And most importantly…"
He looked around at the workers.
"Buildable."
He lowered the blueprint.
"Which brings me to something important."
Mel pointed toward the assembly rails again.
"I want twenty of these."
That caused murmurs among the workers.
Twenty.
The fisherman raised an eyebrow slightly.
Mel nodded firmly.
"Twenty boats."
"Not ten."
"Not five."
"Twenty."
He paused for a moment, letting the number settle in the room.
Then he raised one finger.
"But listen carefully."
His voice became serious.
"We are not rushing this."
The room quieted.
Mel looked at each of them.
"I don't want fast."
"I want good."
He tapped the blueprint again.
"These boats will carry Freemason soldiers across open water."
"They'll patrol the coastline."
"They'll fight raiders."
He lowered the page slowly.
"If one of these boats fails because we rushed the welds…"
He shook his head.
"People die."
The room stayed silent.
The message was clear.
Mel crossed his arms.
"So we build them right."
"Slow."
"Careful."
"Precise."
The fisherman nodded approvingly.
Mel noticed.
"That sound good to you, dockmaster?"
The fisherman chuckled quietly.
"Name's Harris."
Mel pointed at him.
"Well Harris, congratulations."
Harris blinked.
"On what?"
Mel grinned.
"You're the leader."
A few workers laughed.
Harris rubbed the back of his neck.
"Didn't sign up for that."
Mel shrugged.
"You're the only one here who's actually worked around boats."
"Congratulations again."
The laughter grew slightly louder.
Harris sighed but smiled.
"Fine."
He gestured toward the blueprint.
"Then let's build it right."
Mel snapped his fingers.
"That's the spirit."
He pointed toward different areas of the factory.
"Welders with me."
"Labor crew start moving the keel beams."
"Engine techs head to the mechanical bay."
He clapped his hands again.
"Let's make history."
The room exploded into movement.
Carts rolled.
Chains clanked.
Tools scraped across steel tables.
The massive gantry crane hummed to life overhead as one of Mel's engineers activated its controls.
Steel beams that had been stacked against the far wall slowly lifted into the air.
The first keel segment.
Workers moved carefully beneath it, guiding it toward the construction rails.
Harris stood near the center watching closely.
"Slow!"
he called.
"Lower it slow!"
The crane operator adjusted the speed.
The beam descended inch by inch.
Several welders crouched beside the rails preparing clamps.
The metal touched the rails with a dull clang.
Harris crouched beside it.
Running his hand along the steel.
Checking alignment.
He nodded once.
"Good."
The welders moved in.
Bright sparks exploded into the air as the first welds were made.
The sound of welding torches filled the factory.
Mel stood nearby with his arms crossed, watching carefully.
Not interfering.
Just observing.
Because this moment mattered.
This wasn't just construction.
This was the birth of a navy.
Across the floor, engine technicians opened crates filled with salvaged marine engines pulled from old fishing boats and pre-war vessels.
One mechanic whistled softly.
"Some of these look rough."
Another technician laughed.
"Welcome to the wasteland."
They began dismantling one engine carefully.
Checking pistons.
Cleaning corrosion.
Replacing worn seals.
Every part mattered.
Meanwhile near the hull construction area, workers rolled heavy steel plates toward the rails where the keel had just been welded into place.
Harris walked slowly around the structure.
Hands behind his back.
Watching every step.
One of the younger welders approached him.
"So… leader now, huh?"
Harris snorted.
"Don't remind me."
The welder grinned.
"You think we can really build twenty boats?"
Harris looked at the growing structure.
The first ribs of the hull were already being lifted into position.
"Yeah."
He said quietly.
"We can."
He pointed toward the welders.
"But only if we don't rush."
Hours passed.
The sun climbed high above the ocean.
The shipyard grew hotter as welding torches sparked constantly across the assembly floor.
Workers paused occasionally for water.
But no one stopped long.
Piece by piece the skeleton of the first boat began to take shape.
Metal ribs rose from the keel.
Framework extended outward forming the curved shape of the hull.
From the upper office window, Ronnie Shaw watched the progress quietly.
She leaned against the window frame with her arms crossed.
Beside her stood a Freemason officer.
"Hard to believe," the officer said softly.
Ronnie nodded.
"A week and a half ago this place was empty."
Below them, sparks flew like tiny stars as welders sealed the hull ribs together.
Ronnie smiled faintly.
"Now look at it."
By afternoon the lower hull framework stood fully assembled.
Workers wiped sweat from their faces as they stepped back to admire the structure.
It wasn't a complete boat yet.
Not even close.
But it looked like something now.
Something real.
Mel walked over beside Harris.
They both stared at the steel skeleton.
Mel nodded slowly.
"Good start."
Harris wiped grease from his hands.
"You meant what you said earlier?"
Mel glanced at him.
"About?"
"Twenty boats."
Mel nodded.
"Yeah."
Harris looked back at the structure.
"That's a fleet."
Mel smiled slightly.
"Exactly."
He gestured toward the ocean outside the factory doors.
"And when they launch…"
His voice softened slightly.
"The Commonwealth changes."
For a moment both men simply listened to the waves outside.
Then Mel clapped his hands again.
"Alright!"
He raised his voice.
"Break time's over!"
Groans and laughter echoed across the floor.
Mel pointed at the hull.
"We're just getting started!"
And the workers returned to their stations.
And the shipyard came alive again.
The brief break Mel had given them ended quickly, and the steady rhythm of work returned to the massive factory floor.
Welding torches ignited once more.
Metal screamed softly as grinders smoothed rough seams.
The gantry crane creaked overhead, lifting curved steel plates into the air like enormous mechanical birds.
Outside the open factory doors, the Atlantic rolled steadily against the rocky shoreline, the distant sound of waves blending with the noise of construction inside.
The skeleton of the boat stood on the construction rails like the bones of some massive creature slowly being given life.
Harris stood with a clipboard someone had shoved into his hands an hour earlier.
He stared at it with mild suspicion.
"I hate paperwork," he muttered.
One of the welders nearby laughed.
"Too late now, leader."
Harris shot him a sideways look.
"I'm still not used to that."
But despite the joking, Harris took the role seriously.
He walked slowly around the hull frame, watching the welders attach the curved plating to the outer ribs.
Each metal sheet was lowered carefully by the crane, guided by workers holding long metal poles to steady it.
"Little to the left," Harris called.
The crane operator adjusted.
"Stop!"
The plate settled perfectly against the rib frame.
Welders immediately moved in, their torches spitting bright showers of sparks as they fused the plate into place.
The sound echoed loudly across the factory floor.
Across the room, Mel leaned against a workbench watching everything unfold.
His coffee had long since gone cold.
He didn't care.
This was better than sleep.
One of his engineers approached him.
"You think we'll finish the hull today?"
Mel scratched his chin.
"Lower hull maybe."
He nodded toward Harris.
"That guy knows what he's doing."
The engineer followed his gaze.
"Dockworker, right?"
"Fisherman," Mel replied.
"Means he knows what waves can do to bad construction."
The engineer chuckled softly.
"Good reason to build it strong."
Mel nodded.
"Exactly."
The hours stretched on.
Afternoon slowly turned toward evening.
The steel skeleton gradually vanished beneath solid plating as workers sealed the boat's hull piece by piece.
The shape became clearer with every passing hour.
A sleek, narrow patrol vessel.
Long.
Low.
Built for speed and stability.
As the sun began dipping toward the western horizon, the inside of the factory turned orange with warm evening light.
Workers continued without complaint.
Someone started humming quietly while welding.
Another worker told a joke across the hull frame that caused several others to burst into laughter.
The atmosphere wasn't tense.
It was focused.
Purposeful.
People who believed in what they were building.
By nightfall the lower hull was complete.
The boat rested on the rails like a giant steel shell.
Mel walked slowly around it with Harris.
They ran flashlights along the seams checking welds carefully.
Harris tapped one seam with a wrench.
Solid.
He nodded.
"Good weld."
Mel grinned slightly.
"Told you we weren't rushing."
They climbed up a temporary ladder and stepped onto the deck frame.
The skeleton of the upper deck had begun taking shape as well.
Support beams stretched across the top like ribs forming the roof structure.
Mel leaned against the railing frame.
"How's the crew holding up?"
Harris glanced across the factory.
Workers were still busy organizing tools and preparing the next plating sections for the morning.
"Better than I expected," Harris admitted.
"Most of them never built anything this big."
Mel smiled faintly.
"Neither have I."
Harris laughed.
"Fair point."
Eventually Mel clapped his hands loudly again.
"Alright!"
His voice echoed through the building.
"That's enough for tonight!"
Groans of exhaustion followed.
But also smiles.
Workers stretched their backs and wiped grease from their hands.
"Everyone get some sleep," Mel continued.
"Tomorrow we finish this thing."
That announcement brought a wave of excited murmurs.
Finish.
The first boat.
For many of them the idea still felt unreal.
But the steel hull sitting on the rails proved it was happening.
Slowly the workers began shutting down equipment.
Lights dimmed across sections of the factory.
Some workers rolled out sleeping bags inside the nearby barracks building Sturges had constructed beside the shipyard.
Others walked outside to breathe the cool night air by the ocean.
Harris stood for a long moment staring at the unfinished boat.
The moonlight reflected softly off the steel hull through the factory doors.
Mel approached beside him.
"Not bad for the first day."
Harris chuckled.
"Day's not over yet."
Mel stretched his arms.
"Feels like it."
They both laughed quietly.
Eventually they turned and headed for the barracks.
Because tomorrow would be the final push.
Morning returned quickly.
The second day began before the sun even cleared the ocean.
Workers filtered back into the shipyard rubbing sleep from their eyes, carrying coffee mugs and tool belts.
The steel hull waited exactly where they had left it.
Silent.
Patient.
Waiting to be completed.
Mel arrived early again.
He walked slowly around the structure inspecting everything one more time.
Harris joined him a few minutes later.
"You sleep?"
Mel shrugged.
"Some."
Harris nodded toward the boat.
"Well let's finish it."
The factory roared back to life.
Upper deck plating began first.
Workers climbed ladders and scaffolding, welding metal panels into place while others installed support frames for the cabin structure.
Inside the hull, engine technicians carefully lowered the rebuilt marine engine into position using the gantry crane.
The heavy machine descended slowly into the engine compartment.
"Easy!" one mechanic called.
"Easy!"
The engine touched the mounting brackets with a dull thud.
Bolts were immediately tightened.
Fuel lines connected.
Cooling systems installed.
Electrical wiring snaked through narrow compartments beneath the deck.
The patrol boat was beginning to look real.
By midday the cabin structure was complete.
Windows installed.
Control panels mounted.
Navigation instruments wired together using salvaged electronics Mel's team had refurbished.
One of the mechanics climbed out of the engine compartment covered in grease.
He wiped his hands with a rag.
"Engine's ready."
Mel grinned.
"Music to my ears."
The final steps began.
Painting.
Sealing the hull seams.
Installing the propeller assembly at the stern.
Workers moved with growing excitement now.
Because they could see the end.
By late afternoon of the second day the boat stood fully assembled.
It sat on the construction rails gleaming under the factory lights.
A sleek steel patrol vessel.
Nearly twenty meters long.
Sharp bow.
Reinforced hull.
Twin propellers beneath the stern.
Silence filled the shipyard for a moment as everyone gathered around it.
Harris whistled softly.
"Well I'll be damned."
Mel crossed his arms proudly.
"We built a boat."
One of the younger workers ran his hand along the hull.
"I've never built anything like this before."
Harris nodded.
"Most people haven't."
Mel clapped his hands once.
"Alright!"
His eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Let's see if she floats."
That line sent a ripple of nervous laughter through the workers.
Because building a boat was one thing.
Seeing it survive the ocean was another.
The crane operator moved into position.
Heavy steel chains were attached to lifting points along the hull.
The massive gantry crane groaned as it lifted the patrol boat off the construction rails.
The vessel rose slowly into the air.
Workers stepped back instinctively.
The boat swung slightly above the factory floor.
Then the crane began moving toward the launch ramp that extended out into the sea.
Outside, the Atlantic waited.
The sky had begun turning orange as evening approached.
A perfect time for a launch.
Mel, Harris, and the rest of the crew followed the crane outside.
The wind smelled strongly of salt and ocean spray.
The crane rolled forward until the boat hung directly above the water.
Everyone fell silent.
Mel looked at Harris.
"Well?"
Harris shrugged.
"Only one way to find out."
Mel nodded toward the crane operator.
"Lower her."
The cables slowly unwound.
The patrol boat descended toward the water.
Closer.
Closer.
The hull touched the ocean surface with a soft splash.
Water rippled outward in gentle circles.
Everyone held their breath.
The boat settled.
Rocked slightly.
Then stabilized.
Floating perfectly.
Cheers exploded along the shoreline.
Workers shouted and laughed, slapping each other on the back.
"She floats!"
One mechanic pumped his fist into the air.
"Hell yeah!"
Mel grinned widely.
But Harris wasn't finished yet.
He crossed his arms.
"Floating's only half the test."
Mel nodded.
"Let's start the engine."
Two mechanics climbed aboard quickly.
They moved inside the cabin and turned the ignition system.
For a moment nothing happened.
Then—
The engine roared to life.
A deep mechanical growl echoed across the water.
The propellers churned beneath the surface, sending white foam swirling behind the boat.
More cheers erupted from the workers.
The patrol boat slowly pulled away from the launch ramp.
One of the mechanics carefully guided it into a slow circle near the shoreline.
The vessel cut through the waves smoothly.
Stable.
Strong.
Responsive.
Harris watched closely.
He nodded slowly.
"Handles well."
Mel exhaled a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
The boat completed another loop before returning toward the launch ramp.
As it approached the shoreline again, the entire shipyard crew applauded loudly.
The mechanic aboard leaned out of the cabin window and shouted.
"She runs perfect!"
Mel laughed.
"Damn right she does!"
When the boat returned to shore, workers tied it to temporary dock posts near the factory ramp.
Everyone gathered around admiring their work.
The first naval vessel of the Freemasons Republic floated proudly beside the shipyard.
Mel stood beside Harris staring at it.
"Well?"
Harris smiled.
"You built a good boat."
Mel nodded toward the harbor beside the factory.
A small harbor.
Wooden docks extending into the water.
It had been built only days earlier by Sturges and his engineers.
Simple but sturdy.
"Let's park her."
The mechanics climbed aboard again and guided the patrol boat slowly into the harbor.
It slid gently alongside the dock.
Ropes were secured.
The engine shut down.
Silence returned except for the sound of waves tapping against the hull.
Workers stood along the dock staring proudly at the boat.
The first of twenty.
Mel looked around at the crew.
"Alright everyone!"
They turned toward him.
He pointed back toward the factory.
"One down."
He raised two fingers.
"Nineteen to go."
Groans and laughter followed.
But nobody complained.
Because now they knew it could be done.
Mel smiled.
"Take the night off."
That caused a few surprised reactions.
"Tomorrow…"
He pointed toward the empty construction rails inside the factory.
"We start the next one."
The workers slowly began heading back toward the shipyard building.
Tired.
Greasy.
But proud.
Behind them the first patrol boat of the Freemasons Republic rested quietly in the small harbor Sturges had built beside the factory.
Its steel hull reflected the evening sunlight, a symbol of something new rising along the Commonwealth coast.
______________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-