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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Power Armor soldiers stood ready for boarding drills, with logistics staff that tracked every movement with precise organization.
The morning sun rose slowly over the Atlantic, spilling pale gold across the water and the steel structures of the Republic's new naval base.
The previous day had been loud.
Engines roaring.
Orders shouted.
Boots pounding across concrete docks.
Ships starting their first training runs.
But now, in the quiet of early morning, the base felt different.
Not silent.
Never silent.
Just… settled.
Alive in a calmer way.
Gulls circled above the harbor, their cries drifting across the waves. The smell of salt mixed with oil, fresh welding metal, and the faint scent of coffee from the mess hall kitchen.
Dock workers were already moving along the piers.
A few sailors jogged along the waterfront for morning exercise.
Generators hummed steadily behind the command building.
The Republic Naval Headquarters had only been operational for less than twenty-four hours, but it already felt like it had been here for years.
And at the center of it all, Albert.
Inside the command building, on the second floor, his new office overlooked the entire harbor.
It wasn't luxurious.
Sturges had built it quickly, focusing more on practicality than comfort.
Steel walls.
A large reinforced window facing the docks.
A heavy desk assembled from salvaged hardwood.
Several metal filing cabinets lined one wall.
A chalkboard covered with ship rotations and training schedules hung near the door.
But the view made up for everything.
From his chair, Albert could see the entire harbor.
The six patrol boats rested quietly beside the docks.
Crew members moved across their decks preparing for the day's drills.
Power Armor soldiers stood in groups near the boarding platforms.
Logistics personnel carried clipboards and radios as they checked cargo inventories.
The navy was awake.
And Albert had already been working for two hours.
Paperwork covered nearly every inch of his desk.
Forms.
Reports.
Training schedules.
Supply requests.
Personnel assignments.
Construction budgets.
And every single one of them needed his signature.
Albert leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples for a moment.
He had faced raiders.
Super mutants.
Political negotiations.
Military planning.
But paperwork?
Paperwork might be the most dangerous enemy yet.
He picked up another document from the stack and read through it carefully.
Fuel allocation authorization.
He grabbed a pen and signed the bottom.
Another sheet followed.
Dock maintenance schedule.
Signed.
Next one.
Personnel transfer approval.
Signed again.
The pile barely seemed to shrink.
Albert sighed quietly.
"Magnolia was right."
He muttered it to himself as he flipped another page.
Building institutions meant paperwork.
Lots of paperwork.
A knock came from the office door.
Albert didn't even look up.
"Come in."
The door opened slowly.
A man stepped inside carrying a thick clipboard under his arm.
He was tall, slightly older, with graying hair and a weathered face that suggested years of managing busy docks long before the war ever started.
This was Marcus Hale.
Former supervisor from Bunker Hill.
Now the official leader of the Republic's naval logistics department.
He paused near the doorway and looked at the mountain of paperwork on Albert's desk.
"…Rough morning?"
Albert finally looked up and gave a tired smile.
"You have no idea."
Marcus chuckled quietly and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
"Figured I'd stop by before the morning briefing."
Albert gestured toward the chair across from the desk.
"Sit."
Marcus took the seat and placed his clipboard on the desk.
Albert leaned back slightly.
"Let me guess."
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
"You already know why I'm here?"
Albert pointed toward the clipboard.
"Progress report."
Marcus nodded once.
"Exactly."
Albert sighed and pushed a stack of signed papers aside.
"Alright."
He folded his hands on the desk.
"Let's hear it."
Marcus opened the clipboard and flipped through several pages.
"Overall progress is… better than expected."
Albert raised an eyebrow slightly.
"That sounds promising."
Marcus nodded.
"The logistics personnel hit the ground running yesterday."
He tapped one page with his finger.
"Inventory organization was the first priority."
Albert leaned forward slightly.
"How's that going?"
Marcus flipped the page around so Albert could see the list.
"Everything from the supply trucks has been cataloged and moved into storage."
Albert scanned the entries.
Fuel barrels.
Engine parts.
Navigation equipment.
Repair tools.
Medical supplies.
Food reserves.
It was a lot more detailed than he expected.
Marcus continued.
"We've established three main storage zones."
Albert looked up.
"Three?"
Marcus nodded.
"Mechanical supplies near the dock repair bay."
"Fuel reserves in the secured tank area."
"And general logistics storage inside the command building's lower level."
Albert nodded slowly.
"Good thinking."
Marcus shrugged modestly.
"Dock management experience."
Albert leaned back again.
"What about harbor operations?"
Marcus smiled faintly.
"That part's running smoother than I expected."
He flipped another page.
"Dock control systems are fully operational."
"Traffic lights installed on all six piers."
"Refueling pumps tested and calibrated."
Albert blinked slightly.
"You got all that done in one day?"
Marcus gave a small grin.
"Your people work fast when they know what they're doing."
Albert chuckled quietly.
"I'm starting to believe that."
Marcus continued.
"We also established maintenance rotation schedules for the patrol boats."
Albert's attention sharpened immediately.
"Already?"
Marcus nodded.
"Each vessel gets a full inspection every forty-eight hours."
Albert leaned forward again.
"Who's handling that?"
Marcus tapped the clipboard.
"Joint teams."
"Two sailors."
"One mechanic."
"One logistics inspector."
Albert nodded approvingly.
"That should prevent problems before they start."
Marcus flipped another page.
"There's more."
Albert raised an eyebrow.
"I figured there would be."
Marcus pointed to a list of names.
"Dockmasters."
Albert looked closer.
"You assigned permanent dock supervisors?"
Marcus nodded.
"Six of them."
"One for each pier."
Albert smiled faintly.
"Great Job."
Marcus chuckled.
"Copy that."
Albert leaned back again, impressed.
"Alright."
He crossed his arms thoughtfully.
"What about supply distribution?"
Marcus turned to the next page.
"Food and water supplies have been moved into the mess hall storage."
"Daily ration schedules already established."
Albert nodded slowly.
"And fuel?"
Marcus's expression became slightly more serious.
"That's the only area we need to monitor closely."
Albert leaned forward again.
"Why?"
Marcus pointed at a line on the report.
"These patrol boats burn fuel faster than ground vehicles."
Albert frowned slightly.
"How fast?"
Marcus tapped the numbers.
"If they're running constant patrol drills…"
"…we'll need resupply shipments every two weeks."
Albert thought about that for a moment.
Two weeks wasn't terrible.
But it meant consistent supply routes.
He nodded slowly.
"I'll talk to Magnolia about setting up a dedicated fuel pipeline."
Marcus smiled.
"She'll appreciate the heads-up."
Albert looked out the window for a moment.
Below, sailors were preparing one of the patrol boats for departure.
Power Armor soldiers stood on the dock waiting for their boarding drill rotation.
Life at the naval base was already in full motion.
He turned back to Marcus.
"Anything else?"
Marcus flipped to the final page.
"Just one thing."
Albert raised an eyebrow.
"Go on."
Marcus hesitated slightly.
Then he said,
"Morale."
Albert blinked.
"…Morale?"
Marcus nodded.
"I've been watching the sailors."
Albert leaned forward slightly.
"And?"
Marcus smiled faintly.
"They're excited."
Albert relaxed a little.
"That's good."
Marcus continued.
"Most of them have never worked on ships before."
"But they're treating this place like something special."
Albert looked out the window again.
Below, one of the patrol boats slowly pulled away from the dock.
Crew members moved confidently across the deck.
Someone waved toward the dockworkers.
Another sailor laughed as Briggs' massive Power Armor suit stepped carefully onto the boarding platform.
Albert smiled slightly.
"Because it is something special."
Marcus nodded.
"Exactly."
He closed the clipboard.
"You didn't just give them jobs."
"You gave them a purpose."
Albert didn't say anything for a moment.
He simply watched the harbor.
Ships moving.
People working.
The Republic building something real.
Finally, he looked back at Marcus.
"Well…"
He reached for another stack of papers on the desk.
"…let's make sure we keep it running."
Marcus stood from his chair.
"I'll keep the logistics side moving."
Albert nodded.
"I know you will."
Marcus picked up his clipboard and headed toward the door.
Before leaving, he paused and glanced back.
"You know something, Commander?"
Albert looked up.
"What's that?"
Marcus gestured toward the harbor outside the window.
"I've worked docks my whole life."
Albert waited.
Marcus smiled slightly.
"But I've never seen one built this fast."
Albert chuckled quietly.
"War accelerates progress."
Marcus nodded once.
"Let's just make sure peace keeps it standing."
Then he left the office.
Albert sat quietly for a moment after the door closed.
The room felt calmer now.
Outside, another patrol boat engine roared to life.
Training continued.
The navy was growing stronger every hour.
Albert looked down at the next document waiting for his signature.
He picked up his pen.
And got back to work.
The office slowly returned to its quiet rhythm after Marcus left.
For the next several hours Albert did little else but read, review, and sign documents.
Paper slid across the desk.
Pen scratched across signature lines.
Occasionally he paused to reread something twice from construction authorizations, mechanical repair requests, training rosters, crew assignments. Running a navy, he was quickly learning, meant managing far more paper than gunfire.
At one point he stood from his chair and stretched his back, walking over to the wide reinforced window.
The harbor looked very different compared to the early morning.
The base was fully awake now.
Sailors moved constantly along the docks.
Two patrol boats were already out on the water running navigation drills.
A third sat tied to the pier while a crew practiced loading procedures under the supervision of one of Sturges' mechanics.
The sound of engines drifted faintly through the glass.
Albert watched quietly for a moment.
Then he went back to his desk.
By midday the stack of paperwork had finally shrunk into something manageable.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaled slowly, and rubbed his eyes again.
"Alright," he muttered to himself.
"That's enough paperwork for one day."
Outside the sun had shifted higher into the sky, lighting the ocean in bright silver streaks.
It was early afternoon.
And if Albert had learned anything from the past day, it was that a commander couldn't run a naval base from behind a desk alone.
He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, stepped out of the office, and headed down the metal staircase toward the main floor of the command building.
The building buzzed with activity.
Radios crackled.
Logistics staff hurried past carrying supply manifests.
Two sailors were pinned against a wall-mounted map discussing navigation routes.
Someone further down the hallway argued about generator output levels.
Albert passed them with a faint smile.
Everything was moving.
Outside the building the air felt different.
Warmer.
The smell of salt and fuel mixed together in the breeze.
The afternoon sun cast long reflections across the water.
Albert made his way toward the docks.
As he walked, several sailors straightened when they noticed him approaching.
"Commander."
"Sir."
He returned small nods as he passed.
He didn't like being overly formal, but discipline mattered especially now that they were trying to build something structured.
When he reached the main pier, the sound of engines grew louder.
Two patrol boats were currently circling inside the harbor.
Their motors hummed steadily as they practiced slow turns and docking maneuvers.
Albert stepped onto the dock and folded his arms while watching.
The first boat approached carefully.
A young sailor stood at the helm inside the small command bridge while an instructor leaned beside him pointing toward the pier.
"Ease the throttle!"
Albert could hear the instructor shouting across the water.
"Don't rush it!"
The boat slowed as it approached the dock.
Another sailor threw a rope toward the dockworker waiting to catch it.
The maneuver wasn't perfect.
The hull bumped the pier slightly.
But it wasn't terrible either.
Albert nodded slightly to himself.
They were learning.
Behind him came the heavy metallic clank of Power Armor.
Briggs approached, helmet tucked under one arm.
"Afternoon, Commander."
Albert glanced back.
"How's the boarding team doing?"
Briggs shrugged with a grin.
"We've learned one thing."
Albert raised an eyebrow.
"What's that?"
Briggs pointed toward the patrol boats.
"Power armor and narrow decks don't mix very well."
Albert laughed quietly.
"I figured as much."
Briggs leaned against one of the cargo crates.
"Still, the boys are getting used to it."
Albert nodded.
"Good."
They both watched as the patrol boat completed its docking.
Crew members tied down the ropes.
The instructor stepped off the boat and immediately began pointing out mistakes to the helmsman.
Albert could hear fragments of the conversation.
"You came in too fast."
"Watch your alignment."
"Always check your stern clearance."
Training in action.
Another patrol boat moved out toward open water as the next crew prepared to practice.
Albert stepped further down the pier so he could watch the harbor more clearly.
The Atlantic stretched wide beyond the harbor entrance.
Gray waves rolled slowly beneath the afternoon sun.
This was their territory now.
And it needed protection.
Albert crossed his arms thoughtfully as he watched the sailors maneuvering the boats.
Training was going well.
But training alone wasn't enough.
Soon they would need real patrol schedules.
Actual operational structure.
He turned toward Briggs.
"Call the crew leaders down here."
Briggs nodded immediately.
"On it."
He stepped away, shouting toward a group of sailors further down the dock.
Within a few minutes several crew leaders approached Albert.
Some still smelled faintly of engine oil.
One had grease stains on his sleeves.
Another carried a navigation tablet under his arm.
They gathered around him expectantly.
Albert gestured toward the water.
"How's the training going?"
One of the crew leaders, a woman named Ramirez that answered first.
"Better every hour."
Albert nodded.
"Any major problems?"
Another sailor shook his head.
"Just inexperience."
Ramirez added,
"Most of us have never piloted boats before."
Albert smiled faintly.
"That'll change."
He looked around at the small group.
"Which is why I wanted to talk to you."
Their attention sharpened.
Albert pointed toward the six patrol boats resting along the docks.
"These vessels aren't just for training."
"They're the start of something bigger."
The sailors listened carefully.
Albert continued,
"We need to start establishing real patrol operations."
Ramirez tilted her head slightly.
"You mean actual ocean patrols?"
Albert nodded.
"Exactly."
He gestured toward the harbor entrance.
"The coastline out there isn't empty."
"Raiders use boats."
"Smugglers move supplies through the water."
"And there's no telling what else might be out there."
The sailors exchanged quick glances.
Albert continued calmly.
"So here's the plan."
He stepped closer to the edge of the dock and pointed toward two of the vessels.
"Two patrol boats will be active at all times."
The sailors leaned in slightly to listen.
Albert continued.
"Starting tomorrow morning."
"One boat patrols the northern coastline."
"The other patrols south."
Ramirez nodded slowly.
"Rotating shifts?"
Albert smiled slightly.
"Exactly."
He turned back to them.
"Each patrol cycle lasts twenty-four hours."
"From morning… to the next morning."
One of the crew leaders frowned slightly.
"Twenty-four hours straight?"
Albert shook his head.
"No."
He pointed toward the harbor.
"The boats remain deployed for twenty-four hours."
"But crews rotate onboard in shifts."
Understanding spread across their faces.
Ramirez nodded.
"That makes more sense."
Albert continued.
"While two boats are on patrol, the other four remain here."
"Training."
"Maintenance."
"Refueling."
"Crew rest."
Another sailor asked,
"And then they rotate out?"
Albert nodded.
"Exactly."
"Every day, two different boats take patrol duty."
Ramirez crossed her arms thoughtfully.
"That keeps all six vessels active."
Albert nodded.
"And prevents overworking any single crew."
Briggs leaned against a railing nearby, listening.
Albert continued explaining.
"Each patrol boat will carry standard equipment."
"Navigation gear."
"Radio communication."
"Mounted machine guns."
"And a boarding team."
Briggs grinned slightly at that.
Albert noticed and chuckled quietly.
"Yes, Briggs."
"Your Power Armor team."
Briggs gave a small salute.
"Happy to volunteer."
Albert turned back to the crew leaders.
"Boarding operations will be part of every patrol."
"If suspicious vessels are encountered, the boarding team investigates."
Ramirez nodded firmly.
"Understood."
Albert paused for a moment.
Then he added something important.
"But patrol schedules are only half the job."
He gestured toward the dock.
"Every single boat that returns from patrol gets inspected."
The sailors listened carefully.
Albert continued.
"I don't care if the patrol lasted six hours or twenty-four."
"Every time a boat docks, we check it."
He raised a finger.
"Fuel levels."
Another finger.
"Engine condition."
A third.
"Structural integrity."
He looked each of them in the eyes.
"I want every vessel ready for the next patrol."
Ramirez nodded seriously.
"That means mechanical inspections every rotation."
Albert nodded.
"Exactly."
He pointed toward the harbor control building.
"Logistics will track fuel usage."
"Dockmasters will supervise maintenance."
"And sailors will report any mechanical issues immediately."
Another crew leader asked,
"What about emergency repairs?"
Albert answered without hesitation.
"Then the boat stays docked until it's fixed."
He crossed his arms.
"I'd rather lose one patrol shift than lose an entire vessel at sea."
The sailors nodded.
They understood the logic.
Albert looked around the harbor again.
One patrol boat was returning from training now, its engine humming as it approached the dock.
The crew moved confidently.
Already better than they had been yesterday.
Albert smiled slightly.
"Anything unclear?"
The crew leaders shook their heads.
Ramirez spoke again.
"Actually… this makes things easier."
Albert raised an eyebrow.
"How so?"
She gestured toward the boats.
"A structured schedule means we can train crews for real operations."
Albert nodded approvingly.
"Exactly."
Briggs chuckled from behind them.
"Look at that."
Albert glanced back.
"What?"
Briggs grinned.
"Yesterday we had six boats."
"Today we've got a navy."
Albert laughed quietly.
"Not quite."
He turned back toward the harbor.
"But we're getting there."
The patrol boat reached the dock and tied off.
Sailors jumped down onto the pier.
One of them jogged over.
"Commander!"
Albert turned.
"How'd it go?"
The sailor wiped sweat from his forehead.
"Still figuring out tight turns, but steering's getting better."
Albert nodded.
"Good."
He pointed toward the crew leaders.
"Listen to them."
"We're implementing patrol rotations starting tomorrow."
The sailor blinked slightly.
"Real patrols?"
Albert nodded.
"Real patrols."
The sailor grinned widely.
"Hell yeah."
Albert watched as the crew began securing the vessel.
Dockworkers connected refueling hoses.
A mechanic climbed aboard to check the engine housing.
Logistics personnel recorded fuel usage on clipboards.
Exactly the kind of organized activity Albert wanted.
He turned slightly and looked across the entire harbor again.
Six patrol boats.
Hundreds of personnel.
And a harbor that, only a few days ago, had been nothing more than empty coastline and construction noise.
Now it was alive.
Albert stood quietly at the edge of the pier, letting the wind brush past him while he watched the activity unfolding across the docks. The Republic's navy was still young that barely more than an idea turning into reality, but it was moving in the right direction.
Training crews moved with purpose.
Dock workers handled ropes and fuel lines with practiced coordination.
Mechanics climbed in and out of engine compartments like surgeons inspecting vital organs.
It wasn't perfect yet.
But it was real.
And that mattered.
Behind him, Briggs shifted slightly in his heavy boots.
"You thinking about something?" Briggs asked.
Albert didn't look away from the harbor.
"Yeah."
"What?"
Albert gestured toward the shipyards far down the coastline, where massive steel frames and crane structures stood against the sky.
"The next step."
Briggs followed his gaze.
The shipyards.
That was where the future of the navy was being built.
Albert turned back toward the dock.
"I'm heading over there."
Briggs raised an eyebrow.
"Now?"
Albert nodded.
"I want to see how the boats are coming along."
Briggs straightened slightly.
"Want an escort?"
Albert chuckled quietly.
"I figured that would happen whether I asked or not."
Briggs grinned.
"Fair point."
Albert gave one last look across the harbor.
Training would continue without him.
The system he had just set up would keep things moving.
That was the point of structure as things didn't fall apart the moment the commander stepped away.
"Alright," Albert said. "Let's go."
The small convoy formed quickly.
Twenty-five sailors were assigned to the escort detail.
Some carried rifles slung across their backs.
Others manned the vehicle turrets.
Three Humvees lined up in front of the command building, engines rumbling steadily.
Behind them sat a transport truck ready to carry additional personnel and equipment.
The vehicles were still were additions to the Republic's growing military force.
Albert climbed into the passenger seat of the lead Humvee.
Briggs climbed into the back beside two armed sailors.
One of the drivers glanced back.
"Route's clear, Commander."
Albert nodded.
"Let's move."
The engines roared slightly louder as the convoy rolled forward.
They left the naval base through the large security gate, passing watchtowers where sentries stood scanning the coastline.
Beyond the base perimeter, the road turned rougher.
Cracked asphalt.
Patches of dirt.
Rusting wreckage from long-forgotten vehicles half-buried near the roadside.
The world outside the Republic's controlled territory still carried the scars of the old war.
The convoy drove carefully but steadily along the coastal route.
Wind from the ocean carried the scent of salt through the open windows.
Albert rested one arm against the door frame while watching the landscape pass by.
Low cliffs.
Broken buildings.
Occasional patches of green where stubborn plants had reclaimed the earth.
For a while nobody spoke.
The steady hum of the engines filled the silence.
Then Briggs leaned forward slightly from the back seat.
"You think they've made much progress yet?"
Albert glanced back.
"With the shipyards?"
Briggs nodded.
Albert shrugged.
"Mel said they'd start laying down hull frames this week."
Briggs whistled quietly.
"That fast?"
Albert smiled faintly.
"Mel doesn't move slow."
Briggs chuckled.
"Yeah. I noticed."
The convoy continued along the road for another fifteen minutes.
Then the shipyards finally came into view.
Even from a distance they looked enormous.
Towering cranes.
Scaffolding rising above partially constructed hulls.
Temporary warehouses built from salvaged steel.
Smoke drifting from welding torches and portable generators.
The place was alive with construction.
Albert leaned forward slightly in his seat.
"Well," he muttered quietly.
"Looks like they've been busy."
The convoy slowed as they approached the entrance.
Two armed guards stepped forward from a checkpoint built from reinforced barricades.
One of them recognized the lead vehicle immediately.
"Commander!"
Albert stepped out of the Humvee as the convoy came to a stop.
The wind here carried a different smell than the naval base.
Salt was still there.
But it mixed heavily with hot metal, welding smoke, grease, and machine oil.
The scent of industry.
Albert looked past the checkpoint.
Workers moved everywhere inside the yard.
Men and women hauling equipment.
Engineers shouting measurements.
Welders crouched beside steel plates sending bright showers of sparks into the air.
The sound of hammering echoed across the yard.
It was loud.
Chaotic.
Productive.
Albert smiled slightly.
"Looks like the place hasn't slowed down."
The guard chuckled.
"Not even a little, sir."
Albert gestured behind him.
"Convoy stays here."
The sailors nodded, spreading out slightly as security while Albert and Briggs stepped through the gate.
Twenty-five escort sailors followed behind them in loose formation.
Albert walked slowly into the shipyard, taking everything in.
Huge metal frames towered over the construction area.
One of the hulls was already recognizable as the early skeleton of a much larger patrol vessel.
Another frame lay nearby, still incomplete but clearly taking shape.
Workers paused briefly as they noticed Albert approaching.
Some nodded respectfully.
Others gave quick greetings before returning to their work.
Albert didn't interrupt them.
Construction time was valuable.
Then he spotted a familiar figure standing near a welding platform.
Mel.
The scientist-engineer wore a stained coat with rolled-up sleeves, safety goggles pushed up onto his forehead.
He was leaning over a metal table with several engineers studying a blueprint.
Albert slowed slightly.
One thing surprised him immediately.
Mel and his team were still here.
They hadn't returned to Sanctuary.
They were still working.
Albert approached just as Mel straightened from the table.
The scientist noticed him almost immediately.
"Commander?"
Albert smiled faintly.
"Mel."
Mel blinked once in surprise.
"I didn't expect to see you out here today."
Albert gestured around the yard.
"I wanted to check the progress."
Mel looked around at the construction activity and laughed softly.
"Well…"
"You picked a busy moment."
Albert glanced at the massive hull frame behind them.
"Looks like you've been working nonstop."
Mel rubbed the back of his neck.
"Pretty much."
Albert raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You didn't go back to Sanctuary."
Mel shook his head.
"No time."
He gestured toward the shipyards.
"Once we started assembling the hull frames, everything moved faster than expected."
Albert looked back at the construction teams.
Workers climbed along steel scaffolding.
A crane slowly lifted a massive curved plate into position.
Welders moved underneath sealing support beams.
It was impressive.
Albert nodded slowly.
"How many teams are working here?"
Mel crossed his arms.
"Five major construction crews."
Albert blinked slightly.
"Five?"
Mel nodded.
"Two focused on hull assembly."
"One handling propulsion systems."
"One building navigation and control modules."
"And another dedicated to weapon mounting systems."
Albert gave a quiet whistle.
"You really did organize this fast."
Mel shrugged modestly.
"When you give engineers a big project… they don't like waiting."
Albert chuckled softly.
"That's true."
Mel turned back toward the steel hull frame rising above them.
"We've already completed the primary skeleton of the first large patrol vessel."
Albert looked up.
The metal structure stretched almost three stories high.
Massive ribs of steel formed the shape of a long naval craft.
It was still incomplete.
But the scale was obvious.
This wasn't one of the small patrol boats from the harbor.
This was something bigger.
Stronger.
Albert folded his arms thoughtfully.
"How long until it's operational?"
Mel thought for a moment.
"If everything goes smoothly?"
He glanced toward the welding teams.
"Two months."
Albert nodded slowly.
"That's faster than I expected."
Mel smiled slightly.
"Same here."
He pointed toward another construction area.
"And we've already started the second vessel."
Albert followed his finger.
Sure enough, another hull frame was being assembled nearby.
Workers climbed across scaffolding like ants building something enormous.
Albert felt a small sense of pride rise in his chest.
This was the Republic's future navy.
Not just patrol boats.
Real ships.
Mel glanced back at Albert.
"You're building something big here, Commander."
Albert nodded quietly.
"Yeah."
He looked across the shipyard once more.
Cranes lifting steel.
Workers shouting measurements, as generators humming steadily and ship being born from metal and determination.
______________________________________________
• 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:-