I feel Grandy’s hand as he rubs at my back, which is a comfort from him. “Bambino. Ti amo tanto. Per favore, resta con me. Sono cosi orgoglioso di te. Quindi per favore non lasciarmi solo con questo dolore. ” I do not understand his words, garbled as they are by the respirator and his injury. But I understand the pain I hear in them perfectly. 

I answer him first in Denzani, the warbles and chirps muddled by my tears. But I know he can understand it equally as well as I understand his native tongue. Which is to say not at all. “Dark help me, why is this so hard? Why did it have to be like this?” 

“I don’t know, bambino. Some might say it was the work of a deity, but no god worth that name would wish such pain upon the faithful or upon a child. Be strong just a little bit longer. Just a few minutes, so you can get through this moment and into the next.” Dark. He sounds so much like how I feel. 

Broken. Desperate. Stricken.

I understand him more from his raw voice than from the words he speaks. 

With a great heaving breath, I abruptly will myself to cease crying. My hand comes to my face and I shove the tears away with the heel of my palm even as I nod. “I will try.”

“That’s my boy. Just a little bit more. Then you can be weak again. We both can.” Easier said than done. But for Grandy, I can try.

His hand brushes across my hair and I almost break down again as the sensation reminds me of so many memories. Can he not see that I am already hanging on by a single scale caught on a spiderweb? But no. I suppose that is unfair of me. Grandy is not faring much better. He is mourning his son, after all. I cannot know how that feels, though I expect it is equal to my own grief even if the two are different. 

I nod once more. “One more step. One more song. One more thing to do.”

My grandsire bobs his head in a short agreement. “One day at a time. That’s all. We’ll make it through, bambino. You and me, right? We always make it through.”

I want to believe him. But I do not know how yet. For now, all I can do is just finish what I have started here.

The blaring of the klaxon to signal that the air is once more clear startles me and I just about jump out of my scales. I do spin free of Grandy and snarl like a beast at the room, drawing stares from the nearest technicians as they edge away from me. Thankfully, their attention is drawn away again when Valeesa shouts out, “Pull respirators and drop them in the boxes on your way out! One hour for a meal, then get your asses back here for next stage assembly! Trannick, Payters, and Mirvallyn, get a menu ordered up! Zar, I better see you at the head of that food line with two plates!”

That last brings a scattering of chuckles, including Grandy. I merely heave a heavy sigh and try to push away the adrenaline of the moments before as technicians leave a wide berth around me on their way out. It is only once the crowd thins somewhat that I take myself to the hydration table. As those technicians have fled with the rest of their fellows, I am free to ravage the table for cooling rags and tumblers of water to drink. 

Grandy returns some time later to find me slouched against a wall with a damp cloth draped inelegantly over my head and another around my neck, staring into the middle distance because the emotional spectres are returning to haunt my waning consciousness. His hand appears in front of me with a plate, interrupting the conversation I am having in Denzani with the two nearest apparitions. I think he says something as I accept the plate, but I do not understand a word of it and so just chirp a thanks. 

For once during this build, the plate in my hands holds something that I find almost appetizing. Spirals of zucchini noodles topped in pesto with thick slices of eggplant toasted in olive oil waft a lovely odor to my nose. My grandsire knows what I like and for that I am grateful. He joins me on the floor as I begin to devour the meal. And while I still barely taste the food, at least it is better than tasting ash or dirt as I have for previous meals. 

The spectres leave me alone to eat, at least. They move back in as I am scraping up the dregs of pesto from my empty plate with the side of a plastic fork, however. An appendage reaches for me and I threaten it with harm in Denzani to get it to recoil. That only lasts for so long. I snarl imprecations at two more before they cease and instead hover just out of my reach, taunting me with their motions. I know they want to distract me, to see me fail. I tell them to go jump into the abyss.

“Tarriq?” I force my gritty eyes to focus on my grandsire and realize he has been trying to get my attention for the past couple of minutes. “Bambino, are you finished? May I take your plate away for you?”

I open my mouth to reply and nothing comes out but a squeak. Frowning, I clear my throat and try again. “Yes.” My throat feels scraped raw. I did not notice before now. My brows draw down as I consider. “I am…” I break off coughing and it feels like I have swallowed acid. No! I still have work to do! I cannot afford this right now! “Need…water…”

“I’ll get it for you, bambino. Just sit and save your voice for now.” Concern bathes Grandy, but he gives no voice to it. Instead, he merely takes my empty plate and rises to fetch water for both of us. 

I down the water in greedy gulps. It feels wonderful on my parched throat, and so I try again to speak. “Thank you.” It is still a hoarse croak, but at least the searing scratch has abated somewhat. At least my secondary vocal structures are not affected. Which is odd, since I have been using them far more than the primary vocal cords. 

“Save your voice,” Grandy chastises gently. “I know you need it to finish this build.”

“Only my human voice is affected,” I rasp. “My Denzani is still flawless.”

Grandy gives me a look of concern. “Odd.” I nod agreement and he continues. “I thought your voices were separate biological systems. Maybe Denzani utilizes both sets of structures?”

“But then…” I have to swallow to continue, as the speech feels uncomfortable. “Then why would my Denzani be unaffected? I have been singing far more than speaking. If the structures are linked, would they not both be painful?” Grandy frowns, and I can see he has no better explanation. So I just shrug. “So long as I can sing, it does not matter. Just one more mystery in the whole of my existence.”

My grandsire nods. “True.” His gaze goes to the wall, where large red numerals spell out the time. “The techs will be coming back soon. Can I help you get up into the walks before they get here?”

With a nod, I allow Grandy to tug me to my feet. My legs barely hold me up. “Dark but I am tired.” I did not mean to say that aloud, but it comes out anyway. 

“I know, bambino. And I wish you had time to rest. But I know that you can’t stop halfway.” He sounds so resigned. 

“Thank you.” 

We speak no more of it as Grandy helps me. Instead, he aids me in scaling the ladders that take me up into the highest catwalks, cajoling my tired limbs into bearing me just a little longer and offering praise when I finally get there. I cannot quite get up to the level of the support beams yet, as the temporary walkways have not been installed yet and the permanent catwalks keep well clear of the generator except for where the control panels and fuse box will be installed in the outer curtain. But we get as close as possible before I allow myself to rest again.

I do not have much time for resting. As Grandy predicted, the technicians begin to return from their meal break within just a few more minutes. They immediately fall back to work, which is a vast relief. I did not want to have to try and shout orders. 

Instead, I busy myself with eluding the grasping limbs of the few phantasms that have followed me up into the heights. Most remained down on the generator floor, thankfully, but a couple have trailed me and at least three that were not previously present materialize up here. Threats of violence against their beings hold them at bay from placing their appendages upon me. The stream of muttered Denzani garners more than a few wary looks from the technicians as they haul the temporary catwalks up on lift chains and install them in a ring above the turbine itself.

“Grandy.” He comes when I speak, kneeling down so I do not have to strain my voice. “I want no more than ten technicians near me for each of the beam welds. Have the teams split in half, then swap out mid way. Stay near to me, please. Especially when I release the lock upon the magnetic forces of the dynamo; it will likely be a strain upon me as the shielding peels away and I may become overwhelmed.” I hate having to ask this of him. It makes me feel weak to depend upon him like this. He should not have to mind me like a spawnling first exploring outside the nursery. And yet, I must. Falling out of the catwalks is a distinct possibility right now, even if I manage to not pass out. My body is as unstable as my mind. 

“Of course.” The swirl of bronze around him tells me he is proud of me for some reason. I will accept that. It feels good to have the effort recognized. “I’ll relay your wishes to Valeesa.” My head feels entirely too heavy as I nod acknowledgement to him. 

Installing the temporary catwalks takes either thirty seconds or thirty minutes, and I am not certain which. Time has long since lost its meaning. I am no longer certain what hour the repair is on or even what day it is. My eyelids want to close for a while, but I drag them open again each time I blink. The phantasms dance around me, taunting me, and I swear at them. Perhaps they are aiding me in staying awake with their antics.

“Tarriq.” My eyes refuse to focus. Grandy’s form is a blur of color, some of it emotional, some of it physical. “They are ready for you at the supports.” He does not ask permission this time, just takes the hand I toss in his direction and drags me to my feet. His form wavers in a shroud of blue concern before I can blink to clear it.

Up another ladder, the climb tortuous. I bat at the spectral appendage that reaches out to aid me in pulling myself up the last few rungs and nearly lose my grip. A shriek of metal tells me I hold on tighter than I meant to as one of the rungs collapses beneath my fingers. I think I tell someone to replace it, but words are meaningless. 

“We are here.” I stop in my tracks in confusion. Was I not just at the ladder? A look over my shoulder tells me that I have indeed walked to the nearest support beam. Oh Dark. I am losing track of my spatial awareness. Grandy places his hand upon my shoulder and leans close. “Sing, Tarriq. Build. Finish what you have started here. I know you barely have strength left and I hate asking this of you. But please. You know even better than I that this build can’t be stopped halfway.”

He is right. If I do not complete what I have started, the structures will begin to unravel. This must be fully completed, lest the scaffold collapse out from beneath the supports. If I leave off halfway, everything I have done up to this point will have been for naught.

And yet, this is the part I have been dreading most. The welds require me to sing madness. I will have to tap into that part of me that I have been fighting off, and I am not entirely certain I will be able to come back from it a second time. Insanity lurks at the edges of my consciousness, leering at me, waiting for me to slip up and lose control. In my head, it waits with gibbering, howling certainty. One slip and it will come for me, take me, embrace me. 

I look around me, at the tired technicians, at the generator, at the spectres of emotion and memory. At Grandy. Everyone is watching. Waiting. Ready. Anticipatory. My fists clench at my sides in the face of their expectation and determination surges.

I nod, pull myself together as best I can, tug my goggles over my eyes, and open my mouth.

Dark flows forth.