What's Junk? (The Mech Touch)

[lost star]

The fastest solution to manpower shortages was to make allies. This was pretty obvious, but also not something easily done. Everyone was being pressed. Everyone. From the MTA down, everyone had some sort of constraint on their resources. Bolt didn't know what the MTA's problem was, but locally everyone was occupied with either the sandmen or the Hexxer-Friday war.

Of their possible allies, Headhunter Leo and his group was actually the only one able to lend some assistance. The man was actually on his way already. He had clashed with their next threat and his mech had been absolutely trashed in the resulting battle. A quick negotiation to extend his stay some was within possibilities, assuming Bolt managed to get the mech he wanted made before he arrived.

He had to say he had a lot more respect for people that designed Expert mechs now that he'd negotiated some with the man. Leo wasn't really picky. He had a budget, a requirement that Bolt use a particular axe design, and that was it. It was still maddeningly hard to design for the man. Bolt had seen him fight once. He had a list of resonant materials the man was compatible for. There was barely any other information he could use! It wasn't like he knew the person, and asking for reports of that nature would be both rude and probably alarming. It was no wonder some expert mechs were so 'simple.' They frequently had information similar to what he had. Making something solid and simple that fit their requirements was sometimes the best solution.

Bolt knew the smart thing to do would be to do the same. New systems required testing and adaption. Not everyone was Lilly. He just... Well he couldn't play safe here. Not because of any sort of reasonable thought, but because his inspiration just didn't work that way. He felt very inspired this time just because of what he knew about the man. There was a perfect legend for him.

He wanted to make a Dullahan. It had to be done. There was no better fit for a man named Headhunter than a monster that had lost its head and was said to be seeking others. It was going to be a tricky design but one that Bolt was going to enjoy ever second of.

With all of that said, Bolt had to design the axe first, or rather be sure he was accounting for it. As much as he wanted to play by the beat of his own drum, the axe was important to Leo and Bolt would be damned before he put himself before a pilot he was designing for. Thankfully this wasn't a difficult prospect. He had the dimensions that the axe was going to use. The weight was still up in the air, but the length and the rest was not going to change. So long as the axe remained within certain physical requirements Leo should be able to adapt to the rest of the mech relatively quickly.

Likewise the basis of the frame was rather easy as well. Bolt just had to make sure it was solid, that the skeleton and muscles could handle swinging and adjusting the weapon, and so on. This was all fairly standard in the design. Care had to be taken to make sure it was all properly aligned, but certain things were consistent. Really you could say that about a lot of mechs. Once you got experienced enough you could identify and implement the more frequent configurations quickly. It was the deviations that were frequently the largest time consumers.

In this instance that was the head. That part was where you had all the sensors in a mech. Removing it was easy. It just meant the sensors had to be elsewhere, and that could be disorientating for the pilot. Bolt had his data with zombie though. That gave him the knowledge and ability to shift the sensors into other parts if he was careful. In this case Bolt designed the armor and shoulders to have a high collar where the neck would be. The sensors were then placed in the collar, technically making it the head. It was close enough to a standard configuration that Leo shouldn't even need to adapt that much. Really, once you accounted for the fact that you didn't have to physically turn the head it was identical to a normal mech's configuration. The eyes were just roughly where the chin would be if there was a head.

Looking at the high collar Bolt shifted the rest of the mech the heavier side of medium armor wise to match the emerging look. It was not a heavy. It wasn't even close to a heavy in size. He was just making it look like the thing had thick knight armor. Part of that was going to be pure muscle. This was a mech that would win physical contests and brutalize anything close with just mass and force. Bolt explicitly pushed it as far as he could, ignoring other concerns, sans boosters.

The design at that point was a brute wielding an headman's axe. That was the point. Heavy black armor, high musculature, a nasty looking axe. It looked like an executioner. Perfect! Bolt even made sure that the boots stomped even more than most mechs would and adjusted the armor on the hands to allow for punching if needed.

All of this might have sounded a bit silly. Bolt was doing this with a purpose though. The theme had to be unified, in this more than any other mech. Expert mechs worked best when the design almost told a story. They, more than anything else, were customized 'heroes' or 'villains.' They were unique and their mechs had to reflect that in some fashion. They had to be part of the expert and synergize with them to the best of their ability. Done right, you got Morning Star and Cu Sith.

Here he had a precise and brutal killer. That was former was important too. The designer spent an entire day on the arms and fingers to emphasized both parts. Meticulously adjusting them beyond the standard so that they would work exactly as the pilot needed. He also finalized the axe while doing this, with a bit of input from Dai. Mostly on which materials were best for an axe and shaft. A big two handed weapon like this required some serious care to be sure it didn't snap in the first fight, and the alloy composition had to be absolutely correct.

Now came for the spiritual part, and why Bolt had finalized most of the rest already. The spirit was going to be aligned with the resonant, and that wasn't going to be in the axe or hands. He placed the parts around the neck, inside the collar. He then designed a cage that would contain a mech head and lined a few more exotics around them. These exotics were on the stranger side of what Leo was compatible with and also not normally set together.

Here was where things got both tentative and wild. Bolt knew it would work. He just didn't know the exact result. Leo would have to place the head of a mech he'd personally killed into the cage and then put it on his head. The resonant materials would then allow him to do... Well something.

Exotic materials that resonated with experts didn't like to mix usually. You could do it. You just had to be very careful. The results were typically worth the hassle once you got past the problems. Some armor alloys specifically needed a mix, and this was why local designs edged out designs from a sector over. Every sector had specific exotics of varying rarity. The ones Bolt had used weren't mixed typically, mostly because they didn't normally produce results when used together.

Here it would. Bolt had used a resonant exotic that produced a sort of afterimage of the embedded material, one that helped energy, and one that was considered mostly inert except in special cases. Here it'd sort of call upon the history of the head that Leo had killed. Taken together, it'd probably project an image of a slain enemy and do an attack of some nature. Probably. Bolt actually couldn't test it all without Leo.

Bolt's instinct and little figurine of the mech he'd made him think that it would work and work well though. This was a mech that felt complete for a lack of a better term. It would work how he wanted already! He just had to finish up the rest. Mostly the back. That was open and could be adjusted for various things. He could do either an additional weapon, or add enough boosters to make it space capable. This was simple and variable enough that he went ahead and messaged Leo about it.

A brief message exchange indicated that the man would prefer the space capable option, so he did that. It wasn't standard, but Bolt had done it with Morning Star, and he was fairly sure that it was going to be standard in a few years. The tech was starting to become available at Third Rate and there were already a few patents being pushed out for the proper configurations for expert mechs. It was a bit of an expense, but expert mechs had always been expensive in the first place so it fit the budget.

This was the conclusion of the design very technically. Bolt still needed to see about speaking with the Senior that would be aiding him here. He wasn't certain what the arrangement there was truthfully, only that they'd be there. The organizing there was unfortunately very quick and very chaotic, and he wasn't sure what was going on. Hopefully it would be clarified now that he'd finished the mech and Leo was on the way.

 

[lost star]

Bolt did not like the senior he was going to work with. It was probably safe to say that he was close to genuine dislike. The man, dressed in a some sort of cloak that concealed his appearance practically oozed some sort of aura that had made him irritated upon introduction. A singular minute of working with him had reinforced his opinion.

"This is wrong." The man pointed out on the blueprint.

"No, that's reinforcing the shoulder." Bolt pointed out back.

"You do that here and here instead." The voice synthesizer meant to conceal his voice stripped out some emotional context, but it certainly did keep the smarmy nature of it. "If you have that point 'reinforcing the shoulder' then you introduce a weakpoint."

"Which you cover by using armor. Doing it your way creates two tension points that are also vulnerable points and then create a mess when you want to repair it." Bolt said as he tried to keep himself reasonable.

"Repairing it is the least of the concerns. You're losing half a degree of movement!" The man almost shouted.

"Half a degree towards the back that's never going to be used because the mech wields a two handed axe. It would have to use the weapon in one hand and then swing it like it was trying to scratch its back to do that." Bolt explained very patiently.

His words were ignored. "And look at what you did to that head! That's insane. You committed so much to a theme that you're destroying an expert mech completely!"

The designer took a deep breath. "I offered you a chance to look over the blueprint in an attempt to work with you. If you do not like my methodology, you do not need to follow it."

"Good, because I'd be dead and buried before I put my name on this mech. Do your moronic stupidity and I'll go ahead and do the attunement part when your finished." The disguised senior stated so flatly it got through the voice synthesizer.

"Yes." Bolt grunted out and strode out of the design area, though not before locking things down.

He started the work very irritated. About half his energy was pure spite and irritation now. To the side the printer he'd reserved hummed merrily as it produced what he needed. The man gave a small grunt as he pulled on his gloves and affixed the mask. Some of the exotics involved here could produce a toxic gas when they were installed and he didn't want to chance it.

A few minutes later he felt less enraged. The production of mechs soothed him quite a bit and he let himself get into a zen sort of state. Piece by piece his newest creation clicked together. The skeleton first as always, then the muscles, then the armor. The blackened metal creation loomed, even before it was finished.

Hours passed as he worked on this and that, carefully placing together everything that needed to be done. There was a sort of mediative aspect to this. Doing it alone with no help meant he just had to focus. It was good for his stress. The world fell away. Soon he was onto the fingers, piecing together piece by piece carefully and delicately, well as much as you could with a mech part. The parts were heavy enough that he had to strain to shift them manually, but this all deserved a personal touch. Bolt even found himself humming as he carefully finished the inner core of the hand and initiated the test protocols. The hand twitched, and he then had each finger curl individually.

"Bit of a flaw there." The man noted and pulled at one particular part cable. It wouldn't cause issues in operation, but it was still a flaw.

"And he's manually assembling like a barbarian, of course." The voice interrupted Bolt's cool and the man sighed.

"Is there an issue with how I'm doing my work?" Bolt asked as he finished off the hand.

"Yes there's an issue. I don't have all day! You have automated assembly. I checked!" The senior shouted out in frustration.

"For expert mechs I do nothing but the best and do as little automation as possible." Bolt replied back with his serenity barely intact. "Let me finish the armor for this part and then add the exotics to the neck and cage. That will take maybe an hour. It will be finished enough for you to do your thing then right?" The young man asked.

"Ideally it would be completely finished, but yes that should be enough. Especially since the axe is a lump of metal barely deserving the title of a weapon. I refuse to stay here any longer than I already have."

Well at least the irritant could read blueprints. Bolt went back to work, armoring up the fingers carefully and switching to the collar. Here was the most dangerous part of the assembly. The exotics were perfectly safe in stable areas, but to get them onto the appropriate sections he had to weld them solidly to the point. This wasn't dangerous in itself. The weld could produce unpleasant and mildly toxic fumes, but that was perfectly acceptable. The real toxicity came from the fumes getting into contact with another exotic in the same area. That required some care and awareness. It shouldn't happen. Shouldn't didn't mean couldn't.

"Do not approach at all." Bolt warned the senior as he noted movement from below him. "You know what exotics I'm working on right now and you know what can happen."

The man did stop moving at his words. "Tch. I was just being sure you weren't dallying. This is why you use automation! It removes risks like this!"

"One more second." Bolt said as he finished the weld. "But yes, I'd normally automate this part, if it wasn't an expert bespoke mech."

Finally done he got out of the collar and dropped down to the floor. He then moved to the cage, which had been mostly built and added the last parts. This was a far faster job that he finished within minutes. Once he was finished he gave the senior in the cloak a pointed look and stepped out of the room without a word.

Several minutes later the senior was finished and almost power walking out. Bolt heaved a sigh and moved back into the bay area. He then meticulously inspected everything to be sure the man hadn't adulterated anything. It was only once he was done that the designer got back to work.

It was all pretty finished already. He just needed the finishing touches. That was mostly tidying up the armor, attaching the cage to a custom belt, adding another few cages to the side, and then making the axe. The axe was probably the easiest part of the mech, but also one that Bolt wanted perfect as possible. He made damned sure that every part was as as aligned and refined as he could make it, and actually remade half it twice before he was satisfied. This, above everything else, had to work right. You had to trust your main weapon, and Bolt was going to be certain this thing could be trusted.

Dullahan loomed once the axe was added. There was no other way of stating it. The mech looked like a weapon ready to be used. Yet Bolt didn't feel like it was finished. He stared at it for a long moment before cursing silently. He had no idea what was needed, but it did need something! But what? It was physically finished. It even had a decent spiritual signature. You could tell!

"Bolt Silica?" A quite voice made the young man turn to see another unfamiliar man being accompanied by his wife.

"Heyo!" Lilly waved. "This is Leo."

He looked quite normal. Short cropped hair, mildly muscled, average features. Nothing about him denoted that he was an expert really. His presence was just firmly there. It was a bit strange, but Experts were always different. Bolt put it out of his mind and shook the man's hand.

"Sorry for interrupting, but Lilly insisted that you would not mind." The expert said with a firm shake before turning to look at Dullahan. "The design has several unique features I must say."

"I got a bit carried away. It's physically finished, but it needs something." Bolt said his thoughts out loud.

"It has a Heart System right?" Lilly asked.

"Installed with a blank..." Bolt trailed off and pressed his hand to his forehead. "Ah yes, it needs that." He gave Leo a searching look.

The man met his eyes with calm and confidence.

"Here's my question. Would you mind hanging around fer a bit to help defend?" Bolt asked the man. "I can do something that might help, but you have to promise to keep it secret and well... How do I say this, work with what I do?"

"I did already agree to stay for a year." Leo said placidly before turning to the mech. "As for the rest, I can promise I'll keep quiet. Anything more than that depends."

"Good enough I suppose. Get into the cockpit but wait on starting." Bolt gestured to the ladder that would let one get in.

Lilly watched Bolt and the other expert. "Ya sure hun?" She asked quietly.

"Is he ok?" Bolt asked back.

"He's steel." The woman observed. "Pure as steel as you can manage."

Bolt nodded and followed Leo as the man got into the cockpit. "So, documentation is in the Heart Crystal." The designer said as he tapped there. "But before then, start it up, and focus on what sort of er, partner you want the mech to be. This is gonna be a bit unusual here I think."

This was probably really silly, but Bolt knew it was necessary. He placed a hand on the crystal and focused. Mech-halla was there as always. He didn't touch Leo with any sort of spiritual construction. The man might realize something, and Bolt wanted to be discrete as he could here. He just sort of shined a light on the man and made an offer to the spirits.

Around him, the mech started to vibrate slightly as the power was initiated. Systems flicked on one by one as Leo started it up for the first time, and a spirit reached out with something Bolt couldn't define. Leo didn't show any sort of indication of what he was feeling. He barely even showed anything spiritually. Bolt could sense something happening, but whatever it was was very private. For a moment Bolt worried something was going to go wrong. Then the spirit settled into the crystal and stretched into the mech. Leo's willpower flooded into the creation as it happened and it was like the mech started up again. Life resurged through the already started mech and things changed.

Bolt was almost blown back by the spiritual surge of power. It blinded his spiritual sense for a second before he recovered. Leo also seemed stunned by it. "What in the world?" The expert said.

"Hey Bolt, you do know that making masterworks is a big deal right?" Lilly's voice broke Bolt's daze.

"Of course it's, wait what?" Bolt stepped out and examined Dullahan with increasing awe.

"I'm gonna get jealous if you keep doing this for other people, ya know. It's almost like yer cheating at me." His wife teased loudly.

Leo snorted a laugh. "Don't worry, he's not my type." He called out.

Bolt acknowledged the words even as he stared at the new masterwork mech. This was both a problem and not a problem. Making another masterwork wasn't an issue. It meant he was destined for great things really. There'd already been indications of it. If anything, making one solo at some point was expected. This was both good for his future, and bad because he was just a bit more valuable.

Also Bubbles was going to laugh. He'd lasted more than a month at least!

 

[lost star]

There were hundreds of monitors in the room the being dwelt in. There were more wires and lights. The floors were patterned with embedded devices. The walls that weren't covered in monitors had enough electricity running through them to fry even shielded people. The most prominent feature were the cables though. They crossed the ceiling. They dangled, they reached upwards and downwards. Thick things with enough power to fry nations. Some were attached to ports, some not. Mechanical arms rotated from the sides and plugged some while unplugging others. The pattern followed no logic. Random numbers powered the decisions so that nothing could be predicted. It was controlled chaos shaped into a shield. It was math brough to the limit of human understanding. Numbers were done and redone in countless repetitions. In the distance a caged star powered it all. It wasn't enough. A thousand stars wouldn't be enough for what the being needed.

'Experiment line AHHIDO-922123118. Failure. Experiment line AHHIDO-922123119. Failure.' The text scrolled down and down on one of the monitors. An endless series of experiments. Brute force repetition attempting to solve what nothing else could.

The being at the center of all of this observed without emotion. Nothing about it was human. Not anymore. Time had destroyed what their own modifications had not. Only will and power remained. Something that had once been human still clinging onto reality with sheer spite and stubborn resolution. A mass of cables in the shape sat in the center of the room. If it still resembled a man, that was by coincidence, not by design.

Another monitor continually flickered through displays of people. Each one was labeled. 'Seedling Experiment 43211, Hemington Sector: All normal. Seedling Experiment 43212, Dinari Sector: Failure, Restart Pending Approval. Seedling Experiment 43213, Komodo Sector: Unresolvable Error, Attention Required.'

That caused the being to pause. It didn't even take an effort of will from them for everything to focus on it. Just the shift in attention had the pre-programmed automation bring up all the data available.

Bolt Silica.

Not the most anomalous of the seedlings. That was reserved for the one still trying to play with time and had gotten themselves stuck in a timeloop, again. The being suspected mental damage there, because it was the third time... Correction, possibly the third time. It was up in the air if there was a paradox or some other mechanism in play. Context clues there required an entire suite of super computers to verify matters and that seedling thought that hiding things was important to survival, which complicated things even more. The complications were worth the possible ability to identify the 'current' time travelers in the galaxy though, so they were allowed and even encouraged.

Bolt was genuinely refreshing compared to the others at least. Not only was he trying to explore his conclusions, he was even engaging in the systems! The percentage of those that did that was less than half. Many coasted by or indulged in paranoia, isolation, and eventually destroyed themselves and others in an orgy of violence. (Not an uncommon path for the talented and ambitious.)

For a moment the being felt almost human again, remembering the time when those systems had been founded. The hope, the pain, the reasoning behind everything. Another automatic process triggered as the emotions began to rise and cold flooded the beings mind before the rage and hate at what had followed that founding could find its purchase. The being spared a moment to consider if they should disable that process before deciding to leave it, as they had every other time it triggered. The emotions had no place here, not yet. In time, in time.

The anomaly was traced to a series of cascading aberrations that had no answer based on previous historical references. The local sims had extra players and managers that had no physical location. The computer was properly simulating the local expert's abilities. Two expert masterworks in short order. Discussions with unusual context clues. All of them done together had broken the standard response protocols.

Quick review indicated that there was no physical reason for many of the aberrations. Context clues led to talk about spirits and spiritual works. Discussion like this was not unusual. Religion and personal beliefs heavily tainted designer work in most matters, and was frequently something that had to be worked around. Rational designers were not immune to this, they simply subscribed to the 'religion' of rationality. Referring to it as spiritual work was not the aberration. What was an aberration was the fact that there appeared to be substance to the statements.

It was the simulation records that confirmed that confirmed everything. Designers could not do what Bolt had done there. The masterworks could be considered a talented junior. The simulations combined with the known discussions had broken the monitors. Bolt had created a sim that used the equivalent of duct-tape and tinsel to create something that the grandest simulations available could not. Star Designers could not. The best they had managed was a brute force path that was utterly useless once the variables changed.

Relief.

That was all the being felt at the discovery. Finally. Finally. Something new. Something useful. This deserved actual attention.

Ten seconds passed as the being reviewed the video logs, conversational transcripts, records of notes, everything. Some of it was hidden from anything but them. Some of it was actually completely hidden. Which was another anomaly.

For a moment the being actually had to exert effort!

At thirty seconds the being had its conclusions. Bolt Silica was successfully exploring something old and something new at the same time. Exactly one other designer was currently working on something similar. They had reached for and had grasped a new path in different ways. One of the reasons for the seedling experiment had finally occurred. There were proper results! Now it was time for another step to be taken.

Did Bolt require direct intervention? Three seconds of evaluation said no. The pressure he was under was within tolerances. Designers needed to be tested in conflict. The Master Jeanne was successfully managing it along with her other duties while also keeping her involvement to a minimum. Actually commendable. Nothing else needed to be done immediately in that vein.

There was the matter of the Polymath making moves to investigate though. That woman knew subtlety like a starving dog knew restraint. As in not at all. The gifted child had turned into a gifted adult with all the grace and decorum of a freight train. Her turning her attention to the seedling would not only shine a spotlight on it, but would also likely rip it up from the roots in an attempt to study it. That would have to be discouraged.

What would be a good way of achieving that goal?

Two seconds was spent contemplating that. Full discretion was impossible. A designer needed publicity to grow. Concealing that was within possibilities but resource intensive. Simulations were ran. The Polymath would be distracted by the new toy that was the other, more prominent designer, and by the new realm opening up shortly. She did not need to be appeased or dissuaded in a direct fashion. She heavily relied on MTA reports to act as her eyes and ears. Bolt simply needed to be moved or obscured under other categories until her attention wandered. How?

A mote of amusement came from the possible solution. The sister. Gadget Silica had been getting into areas restricted by her family. She was inquiring into the CFA, delicately probing to see what was allowed. It was good work for her age and technology level. Blatantly obvious for the CFA and the being, but one did not care for a spec of dust floating through the air. Predictions were that the girl would become discouraged by the complete disregard the CFA would have of her, but that could be changed. There were a few important figures in the CFA that would pay attention if properly directed in the appropriate manner. It'd pull her and her brother into a few games between political powers, but that was inevitable. Better now when the being had resources to address things if it became necessary and it'd be a good learning experience. If the CFA was looking into things the Polymath would ignore the area. Getting into conflicts with them was against her own goals and the CFA itself would eventually dismiss the seedling as anything more than a curiosity with contrary goals.

A few messages were sent and the appropriate people alerted discretely. It was far from difficult. The being's complete authority allowed them to do whatever they wanted. The Master Jeanne in particular needed new directions. The pressure would be less useful after the CFA intervened. A quick simulation of the forces involved indicated that there was a high probability of things going exactly as desired. That was enough for now. The revised alerts and people in the know would notify it if there was another problem.

One minute of attention given, the being moved onto other things. Several more flags had been tripped and they had to investigate all of them. The experiments had not stopped even for a second. A millisecond passed before another thing occurred to it. Bolt had speculated about certain things that could be checked and used right now could they not? A thousand things were rearranged within an instant and an order given.

Twelve hours later something worthy of full interest was once again happening. Everything but emergency priorities were dropped to a minimum as the meeting time approached. Then, precisely on time a small woman with very closely shorn hair appeared in front of them through a teleportation process. Two more appeared after. All the women were identical. Results of another's experiment, unsuccessful but salvaged. The figure examined them and approved as it had every other time they met.

"Sir." The lead woman inclined her head. "You requested physical presence?"

"Yes." The being replied in their synthesized voice. "Details sent."

The woman nodded as her implant reviewed what was sent and frowned in mild confusion. "I am to install a component on several stored mechs and then speak with the machines?"

"Experiments in other areas have indicated that certain machines may have a lingering psionic echo. The ones noted were once piloted by..." The synthetic voice wasn't so crude as to stutter, but it did almost pause there. "Important pilots. Relevant documentation and recordings have been sent, and more can be requested."

For a heartbeat the woman said nothing. Her face smoothed out and she stilled a moment. She then nodded. "Very well. Assuming your assumption is correct, if we can confirm the presence and the transfer, you wish to transfer them out into another mech?"

"Into the Three Monkeys still in construction. Modify the design as needed." The being confirmed.

"Do we have an estimate as to what that will change?" The woman asked back.

"No."

"Then we will initiate standard recording procedures. It will be done." The woman, along with her companions gave a small salute and nod with the words.

"Good. Status of you and others?" The being continued.

Another pause followed before one of the trailing women spoke up. "The adjustments and cybernetic implants have eliminated the pain, phantom and otherwise. We are fully functional."

That was acceptable. "Comfort level?"

"Within tolerances. Our sisters have all reported similarly." The woman said.

"Noted preference for liquid diet. Advise other methods of ingestion, or several addendums such as ice cream and sorbet. Also noted training requests for ground and security actions." The being brought up.

All three women nodded. "They wish to contribute, even if it's dangerous."

"Unnecessary."

"You ordered us to chose our own paths father." The lead woman said very softly.

"Still unnecessary. Request further modifications and equipment if pursing that path." The being almost sighed. "The ones under the Five Scrolls designation are superior in specific areas associated with the training they are requesting. Extreme measures need to be taken to insure victory."

"We understand." All three women nodded again.

"You of all would." With that the being's attention turned away. "Return to duties."

The women disappeared. The room was colder in their exit. The being didn't notice. This was nothing new. The room was always colder after the children left for war.

 

[lost star]

The building wasn't much of a building. It was more like a shack. Made of pre-fabricated metal welded together hastily, it should have been horrendously hot. A cooling until that had likely been ripped from the mech in the corner made it chilly instead. At night another unit made it unpleasantly hot. The tables in the place were more metal, welded to the ground hastily atop pillars and covered in a resin-like substance to make them usable. They were lumpy but surprisingly smooth. As were the chairs. Those were made of a type of plastic that made them light and very easy to break, based off the remnants in the corners.

In shorter words the place was a shithole on a shithole planet. Even the booze was shit. It was practically pure alcohol that dribbled out of an automated bartender. The device had hard stuff and harder stuff.

"How the fuck do you keep finding these places?" The man's words indicated confusion, the emotions behind them were pure violence.

Jake tipped back his cowboy hat and leaned back on his chair as he fingered the gun at his side. "In this case there's nothing better." He drawled back. "Planet has dirt, some merc camps, and not much else. Hear rumors about natives, but ain't seen a lick of them."

"Jake Jake Jake, you've refined finding shitty watering holes to an art. You can't tell me you didn't look for something like this." The man strode into the bar and glanced around before turning to the 'bartender' and punching it. It dribbled out more alcohol into a metal cup and he snorted. "Ok, you actually impressed me. This is bad."

The cowboy kept his hand on his gun. "At least it's standing. Think we can leave it that way?" He didn't hold out hope.

The man downed the drink in one gulp and shuddered. "It deserves death for this shit, but if it's the only bar here I'll leave it just to watch you suffer." He took a seat and frowned. "So what do you got?"

"Price first Butcher." Jake gave the other expert a flat look. "You got it?"

"Exotics enough to repair your baby." The man confirmed with a leer. "You sure you don't want me to bring it now?"

"And see you try to kill me again?" Jake asked with an upraised eyebrow. "We both know what you'd do if we're in mechs anywhere close to one another."

"True. It's taking a lot to not just lunge over the table and kill you now." Butcher confirmed with a surprisingly friendly smile.

Jake wasn't fooled for a second. They'd run in the same military, but not in the same circles. They were familiar with one another like you would be with a man down the street. Even then he knew enough to know that Butcher wasn't joking. He'd likely gotten worse even. It almost made the meeting a mistake really. He'd be in serious danger in a mech, but outside it was still very dangerous.

"Not sure why you want to bother. Your mech is going to start degrading soon. Might take a decade for them to really stop working, but anything made by seniors and below dies with them, and your 'baby' isn't an exception." Butcher continued with a trace of bemusement.

Right there was why Jake had bothered. Butcher was a monster, but he was also one that had a lot of knowledge that wasn't common. Probably why he was still alive even now. The man got obsessive about the strangest things and picked up a lot of uncommon knowledge.

"Getting it repaired will let me take a job and get off the planet with my boys." The expert explained his general plan with a shrug.

With a functional mech he was a valued asset to anyone. It would be trivial to get transportation for a small group consisting of him and a few friends if he needed. It'd been a backup plan he'd been working on for awhile, especially once it became apparent that the carrier was on its last legs.

Butcher snorted. "Ah, get your ass kicked and run away. Suppose I shouldn't be surprised you keep with the pattern. Well, it does make this easier. I don't want to kill cowards really."

Liar. Jake didn't say because he wanted as little attention as possible on him here. He just adjusted his hat and redirected. "You want to kill the people in the mountain instead."

"Yep. Don't care about whatever treasure they have. Just want to murder the supposed monster they have." The man's expression at that statement couldn't be described as anything less than eager. "So tell me." He breathed out and leaned forward.

Jake was an expert. He'd been in danger before. Nothing came close to the sheer menace he was feeling from that man right now. Butcher was a monster in human skin and it showed right now.

"Pilots a woman. Rumor has it she's got two mechs, but didn't see both of them. Saw one." The man rattled off as he scooted his chair away slightly. "Light mech, resonant material lets her repair fast enough that she healed between reloads. Favored ambush and skirmishing tactics. No ranged weapons."

Butcher seemed almost disappointed at the information. "That's it? Jake, I'm going to have to downgrade you to Jakey." He moved before he finished the words.

Jake had already been pulling out the gun. It didn't help. The weapon was out but his opponent was holding the arm away and he was on the ground before he could register what had happened. The chair was trashed. The floor was also filthy, but that was an irreverent observation because his face was pressed against it.

"Jakey, Jakey." Butcher cooed. "You arranged this because you said you had information. I could look that up on the net. I did actually. It's why I know everything there is to know about Lilly. You could call it my obsession even. I always know all about the people I'm fighting. It's my passion. It's my love. It's my purpose of being. And here you are trying to fulfil that purpose with stale and moldy information. Do you understand how disappointing that is?"

"Psychopath doesn't do you justice." The expert ground out from his place on the floor as he tried to struggle out from the pin.

"Haha, no. Another fact you probably didn't know. Experts like us? We're defined by how we ascend. Me? I shoved a nice and pretty sword right into an experts cockpit. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It was a high beyond all highs." Butcher breathed out. "So, unless you want to be my next high, you're going to help me here. Either proper information, or something else. Maybe your men. I could use some meat to throw while I go after the real prize."

"If you think my men would go into that grinder again willingly, you got another thing coming." Jake said bluntly.

"Oh with some motivation they will. Really, that's all you need. A reason. It doesn't even have to be a good one." Butcher twisted Jake's arm until the gun was out of his grip and then threw it across the room. "Take a seat Jakey."

Jake debated going for the gun. He was quite sure the other man would kill him. He instead took a seat and glared. "We're both experts here. I doubt you can convince me of anything I don't want to do."

"I told you. I know everything about who I fight." Butcher met Jakes eyes in a deliberate fashion. "Did you enjoy running? You had a nice life. Top of the class, first in line, easy ascension. You were put in a lovely little red custom mech and then pushed into a choice battle. You ascended fighting trash and was proud of it."

That was such an exaggeration that Jake wanted to punch the other man on principle.

"Haha. Now here's the fun part. When everyone died you took the ships and ran, but a cute little nepo-pilot like you never really got logistics, so you grabbed too much. You landed on a planet close to where you fled and realized you had no money. No one would give you anything, and then you panicked when things started going wrong." Butcher continued mercilessly. "It wasn't like they needed all of it right? They were probably going to die too, and it wasn't like you had space mechs..." He trailed off leadingly.

Jake looked away. He had very mixed feelings about his recent actions. The reasons were close to what he'd been thinking as well. The planet had been next in line and they'd had almost no defenses. There had been nothing he could do that would help them.

"No judgement here Jakey. But you've already started down this path. You're a cowboy bandit now and people are going to look at you like that. You ascended picking off vermin. You love to put on a show against the masses. So that's what you do. I target that little lady that kicked your ass, and you can go off and play. Think of this like just another job before you... Run again." Butcher grinned as he leaned back on his seat. "I don't even want the loot. You know what I want. I'll take enough to feed me and my crew, and let you have everything else. It's not like they'll need it either."

"I don't buy a lick of what you're selling, but if you're going to go with those terms..." Jake sighed as his head started to hang. "Damnit, it will convince everyone."

"Not surprised. Call me a monster, I deserve it." Butcher got up and moved to the dispenser, giving it another hit. "I don't dress it up pretty. But you all? The men you brought with you? They're animals now. Let me guess, you got drinking, whoring, drugs, and more right? You don't need to answer. I can guess. They're self destructing and you just realized it."

"Wouldn't say it like that." Jake muttered.

It was a mix of grief, rage, and other emotions. No one was in a healthy mindset, and the constant running had not helped. They were barely holding themselves together, and that failed attack had not helped at all. Truthfully Jake had been pretty sure that they wouldn't have even noticed him leaving with the sane people for a long while.

He'd still leave right now if he could, but he wasn't kidding about needing those parts. Lilly had done a number on his mech and another fight without some serious repair was a death sentence. Jake exhaled.

"We fight on opposite sides of the mountain, and if you get yourself killed I'm leaving no matter what." He said quietly.

"See, one reason and you're doing exactly what I want." Butcher picked up a cup from the machine and downed the liquid. "Bleck. It's worse the second time." He shuddered. "Whatever." He threw the cup away and started to walk out. "Parts will be where you want em. Don't be late for our date though, I am getting blood, and yours won't be satisfying, but I will get it if you try to weasel out of everything."

Jake didn't say anything as the other man left. As painful as it was to say it, Butcher had the rep. He loved killing, but only in mechs and against expert pilots. This sort of thing was very nice to have pointed at the enemy.

"One bad decision after another." The man concluded to the empty air after a few minutes with more than a little pain.

If he weren't an expert he probably would have drunk himself into a stupor. He was still very tempted. Instead he got up. He'd survive. That was all he ever wanted.

 

[lost star]

It was not hard to spot the mass of mechs readying themselves. It was so obvious that it was painful really. Unfortunately Kriff couldn't stop it. No one in Olympus could. Butcher had landed, and his reputation was just enough to cajole the opportunists and cowards into trying one last time. It wasn't a military force so much as a mob or horde bent on... Well anything. There was no moral high ground. There was barely any reason. The gathering men, women, and opportunists weren't even there for the supposed loot inside Olympus really. They were there just because others were gathering. Mob behavior essentially. The last remnants of dead nations gathering together in grief and spite uncaring of the reasons.

This was humanity at its worse. A seething mob that brought nothing but ruin in its wake. A gathering of all the things that could be considered evil in humanity. All of it egged on by Butcher and a reluctant Jake. There was no sense or humanity here. It was a group of people that couldn't be called anything more than desperate and vile.

All of this was possible because these had not been the best people before all of this. Those had died fighting, or had gladly enlisted elsewhere to continue to fight. These were the thieves, cowards, and wretches that had picked up and fled. Only some of the gathering people had something resembling morality and were in the group because of momentum. The rest had already committed to looting and pillaging for their own reasons. Few of those reasons were good.

Kriff had considered this the worst case scenario. It had been inevitable unfortunately. At some point someone would have tried this. All they could do was attempt to chip away at the gathering groups and prevent further organization.

This meant that the Backscratchers went into overtime. It meant that the Crows did bombing runs until their engines went out. It even meant that their ground forces did what they could with small thrusts here and there. Everything possible was done to keep the mob from becoming something overwhelming.

It was impossible to tell how significant the results were. A significant portion of the attackers were in what amounted to junk mechs. They'd been top of the line mechs before the sand war. Now they were running on hopes and dreams. Some of them had even been 'repaired' and fueled by some natives inclined to value money over their fellows, which made them functional, but not exactly stellar. A Junk Rat special was meant to get you back in the quickest, cheapest, and frequently dirtiest fashion. These types of mechs were ultimately expendable and they were what took the most damage from the raids.

Numbers had a way of telling though, and the enemy had the numbers. Had Olympus not had the defenders advantage, they would have had no chance. They had a chance here. It wasn't going to be easy in any fashion. They still had that chance and that was what everyone told one another to keep morale up. (It was the truth, but that didn't stop things from being terrifying.)

The battle was going to hinge on the experts and how they moved. Pup was pivotal, much to his dismay. If the expert managed to get his howls off with the right timings, they'd win.

Butcher and Jake knew that in an abstract manner. They knew that when an expert howled the defenders got better. The exact mechanics were irrelevant in the face of that. They would attempt to kill the young man if they find him. There was absolutely no question about that. Both sides knew it. What only one side knew was that if they spotted him, he was likely dead in short order. Pup was simply too young and weak as an expert to do more than last a few minutes. Kriff would be dedicating significant forces focused on keeping their most critical man alive. Yet it was the other experts that would ultimately be responsible for that, and that was tricky.

Lilly could win against Jake. If she rode out on Morning Star, Jake the Cowboy was practically guaranteed to lose. Leo had fought Butcher the Murderer before and hadn't won. He'd been destroyed truthfully. The expert lived up to his reputation, and even now that reputation was forcing considerations.

Ultimately the decision was to have Lilly fight with Dowry and Leo to eliminate Butcher, while Pup tried to delay Jake. This would, and should guarantee the loss of Butcher. Once that was done Lilly would race around the mountain and try to eliminate Jake. It said something that Butcher could make a two vs one a toss up.

Of course, all this hinged on the enemy attacking first. They didn't bother doing it immediately. They instead simply gathered around in a sort of indecisive almost attack. It was almost a siege, but Olympus still had enough orbital control that it they could simply use orbital assets to travel if they needed. Their new carrier was being held together by threads and prayers, but it was holding, and more importantly doing work. They were slowly growing in numbers and managing to repair their forces faster than projected due to the added transport.

Had the enemy been under any sort of direction, they would have attacked once it became apparent that Olympus was too damaged to properly defend. They weren't. The enemy was just a group of deserters held together by the expert reputation that Butcher and Jake carried. Truthfully both experts were barely in control of the gathered forces. The pilots that made up the 'army' had almost no morale, discipline was dying or non-existent, and the frequent attacks and harassments were causing everyone to gather together and bunker down more than anything else, which was also causing serious infighting between incompatible groups.

This meant that a month passed as the mob dithered and wavered between attacking and falling apart. Kriff exploited that ruthlessly, trying his damnedest to get an idea of the enemy's scope and critical assets. The Wrench Rats likewise did everything in their power to repair everything. It couldn't last though.

Midway through the second month the enemy's wavering will shifted enough to attack for them to move. The reason wasn't because of any sort of opening. It was the fact that supplies were starting to get thin. The mob had no logistical train supporting them, and there were no locals nearby to steal from either. Their own numbers had destroyed any chance of a proper siege. So out of desperation they simply charged. The end result was a lurching, hungry mob moving towards the mountain with both desperation and something close to insanity.

It probably would have been funny in another time. Mechs themed as undead defending against a 'zombie' horde. Experiencing it was nothing of the sort.

Kriff almost immediately pulled back all their forces once the attack started. They had the area flooded with mist and readied themselves. The Crows went up into the air again, but waited. There were simply too many mechs to really defend against in the first wave. Some areas had them moving practically shoulder to shoulder. Trying to block that sort of thing required numbers they simply didn't have.

What they did have was the mountain shields. Flicking them on at full blast stopped the enemy at the edges of the mountain. It wouldn't last that long against these sorts of numbers, but they didn't need to. It stalled the mob mentality, and let the next group move forward. The Crows were ordered to fly. Just the Crows.

By this point Bolt and the others had sort of identified how the curses worked for the Crows. It was pseudo-random. What seemed to happen was that the effects were dependent on where the nanomachines hit and how much was hit. They were a sort of 'plague' of sorts that tainted parts of the mech. The mechs could flush the effect eventually, but thanks to the wide range of places you could hit it was always hard to predict how the curse would be applied. Basically, if you hit the head just right you could cause the sensors in the head to malfunction. If you hit a lot, then the mechs would almost shut down. You could cause friend-or-foe recognition to malfunction and so on.

This wide variety of effects had a particularly fun result when used on several groups that were being jammed and didn't quite trust one another. Once the Crows did their flyby, about half the mechs had various debilitations. A notable portion of them had friend-or-foe changed and no other problems. The results were both predictable and quite useful. Infighting started to happen and all of the sudden there was complete chaos.

It was into that chaos that everyone was deployed into. It was not nice. It was not neat. Nor was it pleasant. The goal was a sweep of the mountain. A sharp blade that would wipe off the confused people while the Backscratchers tried to take out the backline supporters. As few as there were. Backline mechs weren't glamourous or dangerous directly, so they were frequently the first to be cannibalized for parts by disorganized groups.

Naturally, this wasn't as easy as it sounded. The sheer mass of people made it a mess beyond belief.

 

[lost star]

Headhunter Leo couldn't say he liked his moniker. It wasn't bad. It wasn't good. It was just sort of there. A lot of his life was like that. He'd left home because of reasons. Some good. Some bad. He'd become an expert headhunter because of similar reasons. Money, rep, and orders.

A key fact of life as a mercenary was that none of them were really independent. You just needed too much money to operate independently. Experts especially always had some sort of backing. No nation would let a weapon like an expert free if they could. It was a polite fiction. Leo had freedom, but he also had orders that he had to follow sometimes.

This time wasn't orders. It was following a contract that he'd been paid on. Overpaid actually. The accounts would have to be settled later. For now, fighting was enough.

The axe cleaved through the mech without a hitch as he continued forward with barely any care. Dullahan didn't even slow. A few bullets pinged off the armor, but the damage was non-existent. Several of the chaff mechs did something, but he didn't really bother to pay attention. If they were in axe range they died. Each footstep stomped through the mud and the enemies scrambled away in horror in his wakle. (Privately he was quite amused. The aura alone made this mech worth taking the contract.) The chaotic battlefield didn't matter to him. Only the target.

"Come out Butcher!" Leo shouted out. "We both know this is what you're waiting for!"

Around him several of his fellows spread out and tried to clear the area. They knew the drill. Make an arena for the oncoming battle. It was harder than it usually was. There were just so many mechs, and his people had to take more time than him to handle them. It was an unusual situation all over really. They didn't typically get into battles like this. They were handling it well at least.

A prod from the side made Leo twist. Something about this new mech was far more responsive than his previous one. Leo didn't think too much about it. Bolt had requested he keep some things secret, and this felt like one of them. It helped, that was enough, and in this case it helped avoid the initial shot from his enemy.

Butcher laughed as he stepped closer. "Gotta say, I like our latest date. Lot more intimate in the mist you know?"

"As twisted as always." Leo examined his enemy carefully.

Who was his backer? That was the question again. Butcher's mech was pristine. A complicated hero mech focused completely on offense, it had a sword in one hand, a gun in the other, laser weapons in the arms, and specialized armor. It was the sort of mech that absolutely needed long maintenance time and was expensive to boot. Yet again, his mech was pristine.

"New mech I see. Pity it already lost the head. Or is that an attempt at intimidation?" Butcher asked casually as he fired a laser Leo's way.

The hit glanced off a shoulder as Leo grabbed at one of the head-filled cages on his belt. "Something special. I assume you knew about the local designer."

A key thing about expert battles was that you wanted to engage them. In words, in actions, in everything you could. That focused them. Leo's purpose was duty and honor, but he also enjoyed the fight like all other experts did. If you engaged an opposing expert, you got a better fight. (They'd also be less likely to run or think about the overall situation.)

"Oh really? Hah! That is fantastic! I've been absolutely eager to see what this rising star can do in battle!" Butcher closed in as he spoke. "Show me!" He raised the sword for a simple slash to start things off.

Leo placed the cage containing the head into the specially made slot on the neck. A latch inside clicked with a sound that was audible over the sounds of battle. He'd already tested this before, but it was still incredible to use.

The head for this one was a fairly pathetic expert. The man had been a rifleman. Leo didn't recall his crimes, if he'd had any. Only that he'd not been expecting a man to charge him.

In death he served better.

As Butcher closed in, Leo brought his axe up to deflect the slice and spun the weapon into a sweeping offense that had the other man step back. The gun moved up and he shifted his stance with a foot step. The shot bounced off the armor, and Leo activated Dullhan's special feature. The head glowed with ghostly light, and behind him a transparent mech formed. It aimed at his back, and Leo gave a quick boost of his mech to clear the line of fire. The shot slammed into Butcher's mech and it lost a good part of its front torso armor.

"Look at that!" Butcher shot the ghost with a laser and it dispersed. "Oh, haha! I can kill more! This is all my birthdays early!"

Despite the success of the attack Leo was fairly sure that wasn't going to happen again. Now that the surprise was gone Butcher wasn't going to let another free hit work. Leo could manifest a ghost within a few steps of his mech. It'd do whatever the expert he'd taken from could do so long as he paid the willpower costs. He didn't quite get the mechanics, only that the ghost would try its best to help and was pretty intuitive. It was an expensive trump card that he'd revealed far too early.

Or at least that was what it seemed like. Leo was deliberately imitating a problem many experts had of playing with a new toy. He manifested the ghost again and moved in with a slice. Butcher slammed his sword into the axe to deflect it and then shot at the ghost and then at him. The ghost disappeared again, but Leo simply called it back once more even as he maneuvered the axe into a better position. Butcher's own psychology meant he had to go for the kill. Every ghost was another distraction that Leo could theoretically exploit. His enemy was skilled enough that it wasn't mattering much, but he was drawing attention.

This was important because he wasn't alone here.

Lilly in Dowry was an absolute menace. Dowry in the mist was somehow worse. Leo had to admit that from their brief spars before this. He had to admit that again when there was absolutely no warning before she was on Butcher's back.

"Wow! Fiesty!" Butcher responded with absolutely glee as he somehow managed to avoid taking critical damage by dropping down and doing a complicated twist that threw the other mech off his back. "Nice ambush. Lovely day for a threesome too!" He dropped the gun in his hand and aimed the laser at the woman as her mech recovered from the throw.

Dowry obviously tried to shred the hand, but she wasn't able to do more than superficial damage before the point blank laser shot cored her shoulder. One arm went limp and then Dowry backpedaled to avoid what looked like a sweep of Butcher's legs. The two mechs began to clash as Leo grabbed at the cage where his mech's head was and pulled it out.

Butcher obviously caught the motion. His mech glowed at that point and it was like a fist of god hit the ground. The air compressed, the mist was blown away, and both experts were staggered by the sudden display of force. The man exploited that opening by slamming his sword through Dowry's midsection, missing the cockpit.

"Nice dodge." The murderous expert said with admiration before wrenching the sword around, again aiming for the cockpit.

The blade came free in a scream of tortured metal as Lilly added her motion to the wrench, forcing the blade out of her mech's body. Dowry staggered and began to heal even as she dropped. In the meantime Leo had switched heads and charged forward. Butcher moved his sword to intercept.

Weapon met weapon in a clash of sparks as the mech sword parried the large axe with incredible skill and power. Dullahan's head glowed with ghostly light once more and Butcher aimed his mangled hand up, ready to fire again. Yet no ghost appeared.

"Huh. Thought for sure I had-" Butcher cut himself off as he boosted hard and out of range just as a ghost appeared next to him, just barely missing. "Huh, different head, different mech."

"Figures he does the same thing in death." Lilly muttered as Dowry got to her feet.

"I'm genuinely impressed." The expert said as he wiggled the maimed mech hand in a slightly mocking fashion. "Lilly, hand my compliments to your husband. You should probably send your love too because this will be the last time you both talk."

"Ok, now he needs to die." Lilly hissed out in almost offense.

Leo strode forward. His axe was readied quickly even as he fed willpower into keeping the ghost alive. He could burn everything he had here if he needed, and it was going to be needed.

Butcher didn't hesitate to meet him. Even as Lilly circled around the man showed absolutely no fear. He just moved. They clashed quickly and violently. Somehow the man managed to fend off the two of them and the ghost with judicious applications of that explosive resonance. Three times they passed one another, and three times he managed to trade evenly.

It shouldn't really have been possible. In close range Dullahan was superior. Yet Butcher was somehow able to keep dancing between melee and ranged, utilizing his lasers and sword to keep just barely ahead of them all. It would have been maddening had Leo not fought him before. Instead it was something he'd planned on almost.

He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but he also wouldn't shy from it. Butcher was psychotic. He could plan up to a point, but he had a pathological need to kill experts. Leo manifested the stealth ghost again and it followed him as he charged forward again. Behind Butcher Lilly circled around, still healing from the last clash.

The ghost went first this time as it shimmered out of view. Butcher wasn't even phased by the loss of sight. He calculated the movement and shot the mech without by pure instinct. It dispelled as Leo moved closer and readied his axe in a deliberate fashion to create an opening. With the offhand aligned towards where the ghost was, Butcher only had his sword, and he could not resist the obvious opening even if it was a bad idea. The sword went into a thrust right at the worst point in the armor.

Leo grunted as the sympathetic pain hit him. Thankfully the armor still worked as designed even when a gap was exploited, and the thrust bled off enough momentum to do little more than cut part of his cockpit. He could almost see some of the armor flex as it protected him from his place in the cockpit. He dropped the axe and then hammered a hand into Butcher's head as the sword stuck. The opposing expert flinched and used the explosive resonance again.

Dullahan was not happy about the impact. Metal screamed as the sword inside it vibrated. Leo could almost feel parts of it come apart. The critical parts held though. Leo hammered a hand forward again and Butcher was forced to pull back sans-sword.

Lilly was waiting for the exact moment. She charged forward then. Even then Butcher still had two arm mounted lasers. He spun on fired on her. One lanced her head, another her torso. Both left red lines on the armor, but they didn't stop the mech. Her hands grabbed his arms and her mech leaned forward to bite. It ripped through what remained of the front armor and took a chunk of something else out of the mech. Something critical based on how the movement went.

Even that wasn't enough to stop Butcher. He used his resonance once more. Dowry was forced to let go and the mech began to move.

By this point Leo had recovered his axe. Without his sword Butcher was forced to just dodge. As damaged as he was, this was a losing position, and he knew it. That wasn't stopping him. The mech twisted and turned and he then maneuvered so that the arm mounted lasers were both pointing right to Leo's chest.

Then the daggers rammed home from behind.

"What?" Butcher asked.

Leo chuckled. "The ghost effect is just cosmetic." He indicated the darkened head. (It actually seemed to make the ghosts more vibrant, but it wasn't at all necessary.)

As the mech started to drop Leo hacked off the head with his axe and then used the other end to stab through the cockpit once the mech was on the ground. Butcher died without another word. Normally he wouldn't have done this, but the MTA had specifically said dead.

"I almost don't want to eat him." Lilly muttered. "Ug, I mean I don't want Dowry to eat him. Ewww."

"Thematic are all well and good, but sometimes designers don't understand what it means to pilot a mech." Leo had to agree as he pulled the cage out of it's place. "Have fun." He picked up Butchers head and slotted it into another cage he'd prepared.

Some part of him imagined the man raging against the bars. It was pure imagination really. If he actually had Butcher's soul, the man would be thrilled to kill more. Leo set the newest acquisition into a belt slot and began to move. The battle wasn't done yet.

 

[lost star]

Pup was an expert. Pup was not a good expert. Lilly could crush him ten out of ten times. This wasn't exactly fair as a comparison, but she was also a relatively new and young expert. She was not the pinnacle in her rank, yet. That Pup couldn't do more than run against her was simply an indication of his combat ability as an expert. He was at the lowest tier of expert possible in personal combat.

That wasn't to say he was a bad fighter or useless as an expert. Lilly had made damned sure to both drill his abilities into him and give him reasonable expectations. He could handle himself against non-experts. It was just that his job on the battlefield was to identify enemies and keep far away from them. Well relatively speaking.

One thing he'd learned quickly was that he had a far different view of that than other people nowadays. As a sensory expert his view of the battlefield was only surpassed by Kriff, and even then that was only sometimes. The mountain had some very good sensors. The enemy sometimes had some very good jammers. This meant that the battlefield was frequently a mess of conflicting signals that Pup honestly didn't really have trouble with. There were many times when he could identify things that Kriff had no idea about.

It was a fairly strange situation that sometimes led to the expert actually being on call with Kriff sometimes. The general had actually taken the time to explain a bit of that and try to tutor him on their downtime, which Pup appreciated. Something about tactical concerns, unique situations, and his inexperience. (He really tried to get it, but Lilly called him almost pure instinct and he agreed with that a lot. He was also being forced into classes on tactics anyway.)

"Got a group of missile men at er... The spot to the left of me." Pup called into the com as he carefully wondered through the mist and watched everyone's positioning. "One scout in the air."

"Confirmed. Point A29." The handler said in a very friendly tone. "Pup, we have good comms at the moment, but remember that we can't always tell where you are. Please use coordinates all the time."

"Sorry. Sorry." The expert apologized again and then tilted his head and focused as something came to his attention. "Enemy engaging at B03, small squad clash. Our side outnumbered." He growled out and moved into a trot.

"Are you moving to reinforce?" The woman on the other end asked very carefully.

"One of ours is nearly down." Pup moved into a sprint.

A few seconds later he was within range. The enemy had a moment to see him before he did the shotgun bark. One dropped and the others turned towards him. Training asserted itself and Pup immediately bounced back. None of the shots came close to hitting him.

In the mist and out of sight he wasn't visible to any of the enemies. They knew a threat was there. They just didn't know where, which threw them all off and had them aiming at everything. His allies immediately capitalized on that opening and finished the battle.

"All set." Pup called out and started to stroll away. "We need a howl now?"

"Wildcard and Headhunter are already engaged with Murder." The woman informed him. "Find a spot that hits a lot and let it rip."

Pup nodded happily. He didn't know why Lilly was called Wildcard now, but it was something about callsigns being needed in battle. He didn't particularly care. Pup was fine with him and what everyone else was called didn't matter in his head. All he had to do was follow orders really!

Carefully he had his mech scent the air and then tilted his head this way and that. There were a lot of mechs on the field. He had to identify as many as possible for his howl to work right. It was a lot of data to parse, even for an expert.

Getting a good howl was actually a lot harder than just activating the sound system. Pup had to identify enemies for it to really work. He had to put a part of himself into it too. Expending willpower it was called. It required some surprising effort to mark a lot of people.

The expert took his time to position himself. He'd gotten decent at finding proper points and timings, and had found that slow and steady was better. He had limited willpower. One good activation was worth two bad ones. Once he felt the time was right, he set his feet, had Cu Sith point his nose up high, and then focused hard. Willpower flowed, his mech flared with power, and then the call of death flowed out of the battlefield.

To him nothing really changed. He could identify the mechs a bit better thanks to the sensors resolving more, but that was it. At least that was what it felt like to him. Everyone else just saw what he saw in his opinion. It was a cleaned up version of what his mech could sense really. Apparently that was a lot. Pup wasn't really concerned with the exact details. He howled, his enemies got marked and his people got better. Easy!

Movement made him pause. Well, movement in the distance. Really far away. It was the expert that he was supposed to avoid!

Pup scrambled before he even started to think about it. Then he started to think and moved even faster. Lilly had said if the man saw Pup, he was dead. Pup didn't want to die!

"Help, expert is here!" He called out to the handler.

"Where?" The woman replied with actual concern and alarm. "How'd he get so close to you without you spotting you?!"

"He's in D1!" Pup responded.

Somehow the pause was audible. "Pup." The woman said very calmly. "That will take him minutes to find you, if you stay still and don't move to avoid." She said. "Remember your instructions?"

"Ah." Pup calmed himself a bit. "Sorry, it feels like he's closer to me." The young man said with a fair bit of embarrassment.

"It's good that you reported that. We're going to direct you now. Move to the B area." The handler directed.

With a clear line of direction Pup did so. What followed next was a game of cat and mouse that the expert actually didn't really get. It really wasn't that much of a problem at first. Pup had superior sensors, and with the mist it wasn't that particularly hard to keep the enemy from even getting a hint of him. Then the expert just started attacking pup's friends. That was a larger issue, and one he couldn't ignore.

"Letting lose another howl." Pup said the second it became apparent what was going on.

Off in the distance the opposing expert immediately noticed the sound and how shots were starting to come at him from out of sight. He also didn't stop. He began to charge towards another group of defenders rather than try to fight him. Pup growled and then dashed closer.

In response the expert turned immediately his way. Pup narrowed his eyes and let loose another shotgun bark. From the distance he was at the damage was non-existent, but it did cause the expert to stop his movement.

With the mist, it wasn't a stare down. They could not see each other visibly. Pup was fairly sure that the opposing expert couldn't really see him at all. The mech didn't really have the configuration for the good sensors. It was all intuition and non-verbal intention. If the expert moved forward at attack Pup's allies, Pup would attack. If he chased, Pup would disengage.

"Damnit. How young are you kid?" The expert's voice over the speakers broke the statement in a sense.

Pup blinked and responded before he could think. "What does that mean?!" He practically shouted over the verbal comms.

"Fuck." The expert boosted forward.

With a yelp Pup boosted back and bounced. He threw out a mine that the man shot not even a second later. The electrified field exploded and singed his tail, but didn't do anything more than that. His opponent shifted around it in a smooth motion and fired in his direction blindly, yet with terrifying accuracy.

Shots peppered his armor as Pup ran. Behind him the expert cursed again. "Damnit kid quit with the scared squirrel impression. I already have enough blood on my ends. This ain't going to end well for you."

"Quit what?! You're shooting at me! I'm not gonna sit there and take it!" Pup almost howled back.

"Fucking..." Another mine forced the expert to shift. "Damn that's an annoying setup. Ok kid. You're young. Ascended what, like a month or two ago maybe?" The cowboy paused and aimed his weapons.

Pup obviously wasn't standing still as this happened. It didn't matter. The shots fired from the handguns came out too fast to dodge and in such a wide spread that it didn't matter where the man fired, some of them would hit. His armor held up, sort of. It was frankly more than a little horrifying. Had Pup been any closer he'd be dead. How was he hitting?! Pup was concealed! He knew it!

"Why does that matter?!" Pup shouted back, quite sure that the sound was echoing enough that it couldn't be traced to him. (Not that it mattered.)

"Hate fighting kids. I'm trying not to hit the cockpit. Got enough guilt. Young potential like you should just find another place. Seriously, with your setup you could go to the Fridays and get set for life." The cowboy reloaded as he continued to chase.

"This is MY home." Pup howled out and let loose another howl.

This one was more focused, but still powerful. All around him enemies died as Pup bounded through the battlefield just a step ahead of his opponent. For a moment it seemed like the man would pursue. Then something changed.

"Your home or not, you got no place in an expert fight." The man kicked on his boosters even more and Pup yelped again.

The distance didn't close between them. The handguns still came out and fired. Pup dodged some and failed to avoid the rest. Shots riddled Cu Sith and the mech staggered as something vital was hit. It was still functional, but it was starting to limp. Again how?!

"That'd be dead." The opposite expert said mercilessly as he holstered one weapon. "Were this any other time, I could kill you right now." He punctuated that with a strangely weak shot right at where the cockpit was. It still rattled the mech enough that Pup felt tears form in his eyes. "Learn from it or not. I can't give a damn anymore." He turned his mech and began to flee.

In the distance Pup could see Lilly running towards him at full speed. He let out a shaky laugh. He was alive!

 

[lost star]

Spacecrafts were not mechs. That sounded strange to say, but it needed to be said too. What would work in mechs would not work in other machines. The mildly educated saw that truth and thought it made sense. The more educated wondered. Why did a mech reactor work better in a mech? Gadget? Gadget had suspicions and a firm direction from Bolt to not look into it more. Better to be safe than sorry when it came to institutional secrets.

Most people probably wouldn't have understood the differences really. It required a lot of education to get into mech design, and the discrepancies didn't become apparent until you did a lot of the math and worked with other machines. Most people weren't raised up with wrenches in their hands and around mechs. Gadget might have hated mechs, but she knew them.

She also knew ships now, and this was why she knew spaceships were not mechs, because this ramshackle thing was being shaken apart by the work they were forcing it through. A mech could have handled this. This ship? It was only alive because of her and her volunteers.

"Engines at half output. Mech bays empty." She reported. "Repair crews to midsection supports. They're showing problems."

"Roger."

Gadget's work with Bolt on creating a heart system for the ship had not worked. He hadn't seemed surprised. He'd left her there to work with it, assuming that she'd either drop it if it was infeasible or manage a workaround of sorts. Her brother had too many projects and not enough time. She didn't begrudge him or his job. She'd just reviewed the work he'd done on, looked over what he'd written, and found... Well again Mechs weren't ships.

It came back to that problem. There were secrets behind mechs. Closely guarded ones. She had unique knowledge in spiritual technology. She could probably pick apart a few of them. It was a very bad idea. So she'd done something else.

"Repairs are showing yellow in midsection." Gadget noted as the displays flickered. "You concur?"

"How the- Yes, we've gotten it stable. Any reds?" The techs involved asked.

Something changed again on the display. Gadget didn't need to glance. She could hear the song. "Red on engine connecter three. It's mid priority assuming you don't find anything else urgent. We're holding a stable orbit and won't need emergency flight for the next hour at a minimum according to captain. No other reds."

The Heart System hadn't worked because of spiritual secrets. It was therefore useless as it was. In light of that, Gadget had removed a lot of the components that were typically installed with it it. She'd added a few computers to the mix, did several walkthroughs of the ship and taken the time to make a series of nerves in the spiritual sense. The ship knew itself now. It knew where the good points were and the bad points. It sang to her senses, and the computers knew where the problems were. The end result wasn't a Heart System. It lacked the crystals and a lot of the connectors. It was a new beast, and it was still very much a work in progress.

"Can get to it in five." The engineer noted. "I want the midsection a bit better than this."

"You're on site." Gadget agreed and looked over the monitors again.

Seeing no problems she adjusted the earring in her ear. Her first spiritual device amplified her spiritual sense, hearing in this case. It was taking some getting used to still. Especially with the other things.

"Back to programming." She muttered and closed her eyes and focused on her other tool.

Her second creation was a mental computer. Crude, unwieldy, yet useful in that it allowed her to code rapidly. It was technically in the hairclip she was wearing. Bolt didn't know about this one. His notes were mostly that he didn't quite want to experiment with mental tools yet. (Again he was busy, and in her opinion overtly cautious about it.)

Gadget was less busy. She grabbed a wire and connected it to the clip. She then opened her eyes and looked at the screen. Code scrawled through it based on her thoughts and she grinned briefly before starting up again.

The status reports were a good start. Not great, but good. Proper monitoring stations would have been able to do what she'd done. It was standard in Second Rate. It was semi-standard in Third Rate ships really. Gadget needed more than that to make her work valid, to herself if no one else. Just helping to keep this ship running was already getting useless praise.

Here she leaned on Bolt's work once more. His coding was probably the least anomalous of what he'd done. The MTA just frowned heavily on coding and it wasn't really developed. Amusingly, this meant that Bolt and his family were actually above average galactically. (At least in mech specific code.) He'd done a lot of input splicing and automation for specific systems. His work in sensors in particular was rather extensive. Gadget was using that as a basis for the ship here.

Another thing that separated ships from mechs. The mind-machine interface standard in mechs didn't work in ships. This was actually a known and acknowledged problem. Larger ships just had too much data they threw at the potential pilot. Small ships worked. Yet space ships scaled in ability based on size. Larger ships could have more generators, which meant more power, which meant bigger guns and tools. Gadget was on a large ship for Third Rate. They got far larger. It was still too much for any possible human pilot. It was a lot for computers too truthfully. Yet Bolt had conclusively proved you could condense data streams while retaining the ability to analyze things.

Gadget didn't want to make the ship possible to interface with like a mech. She wanted to use the massive computers as interpreters so that she could get more data in a format she could use. That required a lot of programming. It required careful categorization and labeling in the digital sense. It also needed a dash of spirit, because Gadget was reaching the end of everything she'd been taught or could crib off of Bolt and that tended to make things better in general if you were careful. She'd been hammering at it every second she could spare, and it felt pretty close to being functional.

Running it on an semi-isolated test server showed promise. Gadget could technically see everything happening in the ship. She could get all the sensor data. All the people. Even see their moods just a bit.

"Feels a bit intrusive." She mused and then paused as an alert was tripped in the program. "Why are there three more people than in the manifest?" She asked the monitor. "That's a rather strange bug."

"No, I don't think that's a bug." An unfamiliar voice from behind Gadget made the girl freeze and slowly turn around.

Behind her, one slightly amused man was flanked by two men in helmets. Gadget could see CFA uniforms. She also couldn't conceive of a reason why they would be there.

"Primitive. Crude." The man said as he walked around the lab. "Yet... Interesting. You've made a rudimentary AI here using a very unusual setup."

Gadget wasn't sure what to say. She defaulted to what her family taught her. Stay silent, polite, and small.

"Yes. I believe this will do as an acceptance submission. Gadget Silica, on behalf of the CFA, I am here to offer you a place amongst us." The man concluded with a slightly wider grin. "Welcome to the CFA Cadet."

A priority transmission came from the radio along his words.

"BY THE ORDER OF THE CFA ALL HOSTILITIES MUST CEASE. THIS PLANET AND THE SURROUNDING SPACE IS NOW DESIGNED A PRIORITY REINFORCEMENT HUB. HOSTILITIES ARE NOW BANNED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE."

Behind Gadget, on the screen, an entire blurb of thoughts rolled over the screen. Mostly Oh My God, and What is going on?!

 

[lost star]

Of the big two, the CFA was the less public one. Humanity as a whole knew about them of course. They would demand nothing less, but the average person on the ground would barely interact with them. Contrast this with the MTA and the sometimes intrusive presence, and you would think they were lesser. That was if you were stupid.

The CFA was the stick. The MTA pretended to be friendly through various outreaches. The CFA was authority. They were actually relatively respected authority too surprisingly. Through good PR and relatively neutral dealings, everyone knew enough to avoid being on their bad side. They were the big stick that humanity used on their enemies usually. They only sometimes used that stick on humans and those sometimes were when the people violated very clear laws.

A priority reinforcement hub was one of those times they used the stick. It was a bureaucratic designation for a specific area in space. It essentially made the place dedicated to transportation and all conflict was banned. Fighting in the area meant death by CFA warship. (Specifically fighting in mechs or space.) It was also a temporary designation done only in times when an alien presence was being actively fought nearby galactically.

Basically the CFA was taking control of the area to provide an avenue of reinforcement in their campaign against the Sandmen. It polite fiction mostly. The CFA and the MTA relied on galactic scale portals to transport large fleets. They didn't really need hubs for simpler things, and the Sandman war was simple to them, despite the damage it was doing. Bolt's planet still qualified based on its unusual FTL composition and location, which made it a perfect cover for other business to be processed. Like discretely 'recruiting' a native.

"Gadget is quite brilliant for her age and status, but also quite behind those in her age group in our usual educational facilities. This is something we can compensate for. It is also something that will require her moving." The very attractive female recruiter explained to Bolt.

Bolt nodded quietly. He was the only one with even a bit of power at the level the CFA worked with, so he was the negotiator here. Not that he could negotiate much with such a disparity. He'd still do his best.

"We have no objection to her going to a school elsewhere." Bolt noted very calmly. "We do object to her being cut off from further contact."

"For the purposes of education, this is quite normal. Interruptions from family can hinder the process." The woman countered without a change in expression.

Bolt leaned forward in the seat slightly. "I did read the regulations you know." He informed her very softly.

There were two blinks to his response. No other changes. "Those regulations-"

"Are for citizens of a specific level yes. Which I am, my birth place non-withstanding." The young man's smile was very polite and very friendly even as he interrupted her. "Forbidding contact is against rule B202 if the parent or guardian is a citizen at my level."

"You are-"

"I am a guardian as of today." Bolt cut off the woman again. "Officially recognized by the MTA. You can check." It'd taken a paltry amount of MTA credits to pay for expedited processing.

For a moment the woman was silent as she obviously tried to review something with her implant. "Very well. Contact information will be forwarded." She wasn't so unprofessional as to be displeased, but there was a hint of it. Then she stiffened. "One moment." She held up a finger before standing. "Captain on deck!"

Bolt blinked. Then blinked again as a man appeared in a small flash. The woman gave him a salute and then disappeared after what appeared to be a non-verbal exchange of some sort. The teleportation technology they used for close range like this was both interesting, and honestly rather annoying in that there was almost no warning when it was used.

"I am taking over the negotiations." The man said. "I am Captain Denib, and will be in charge of managing this particular section of space." He took a seat in a fashion so precise it bordered on uncanny.

Denib was human. This had to be said because his eyes and face were just off enough to make it slightly inhuman. There was something about him that set him apart from normality. An aura almost. Bolt had heard that the CFA's current fashion was genetic engineering to set them apart from human baseline. This man's appearance confirmed that rumor as true.

"Captain." Bolt nodded agreeably and as peacefully as he could. "Kinda unsure what I can negotiate more here. Was happy just saying in contact."

"You were running around the recruiter." The captain said simply. "Impressive for a grounder, especially because you read the rulebook an hour before the meeting."

Bolt shrugged as he settled into his seat. "Seemed important."

"It's equally important that we develop young talent in a way that aligns with our values. This is why we prefer to have new cadets cut ties with their families." Denib leaned back into the chair himself and a small cup appeared next to him. "I can offer you a substantial sum of CFA credits to do so."

"Politely, no." The young man didn't even have to think about it.

"You are certain?" The captain asked while taking a sip of the drink.

Bolt gave the other man a stare. "Do I have ta write it in blood or something?"

"No, but I am expected to make the offer. The next step would be to pressure you with other factors, but that can be safely dispensed with in this case as you have enough prestige to push back." Denib dropped the glass and it disappeared from sight. He then folded his hands in front of him. "Formalities and official statements aside, we both know you can't stop us. You can make things difficult, and I do want your sister to have few complications in her new life. We do not need you trying to exploit a new cadet, nor do we need her distracted by your current needs."

"Give her work, treat her fairly, and she'll do it. I want to keep in contact because she's family. Ain't like we want anything else." Bolt replied with a slight bit of confusion. He wasn't sure where things were going.

Denib paused slightly as he met the other man's eyes. "You are serious." He gave a very slight laugh. "An actual family man. You do know the value of a CFA credit correct?"

"Yes." Bolt nodded. "Though er..." He paused and scratched at a cheek. "Ya might be getting a wrong impression somewhere. I do got some MTA credits too, and that helps me say no."

"I have a full profile of you, including your MTA company." The captain replied with a small shake of his head. "It changes little. Many rich people would jump at what we offer."

"Yet-" Bolt cut himself off and sighed. "Shall we move on?" The captain's objections were likely related to his place of birth and status more than anything else. There was no resolving this verbally.

"Very well, psionic nonsense aside, your sister attributed many of her accomplishments to your work so contact can be provisionally approved without further negotiations. Please be aware that we will be monitoring all communications, and improper information might cause restrictions or disciplinary actions." The captain continued. "You have the full contract for her enlistment?"

"Correct." Bolt said and paused slightly. "Since I don't want the credits, can I have her get the appropriate life extensions and implants for her station early?" He asked.

"CFA credits and internal merits are different. We prefer to avoid interchanging them, and it would likely make her future prospects harder rather than easier." Denib replied conversationally as he visibly recategorized something about the conversation internally. "Speaking from experience, the first few years in schooling are harsh but fair even to those with her background. We strictly monitor things to insure this. Afterwards she will face some social stigma, but considering her aptitude there will be few issues. That is assuming she applies herself."

"She will." Bolt let himself relax a bit. This was a career prospects conversation now, and they both knew it. "Would she have a chance to build ships?"

"We operate on automated tests and evaluations. If she passes the tests, she can apply to any opening and will be accepted if she has the appropriate score. Looking at her work on your primitive carrier, she could likely pass the test to become a junior shipwright now. I would not suggest it however, and you should speak with her on this."

Bolt paused and stared at the other man. "Weren't you worried about me talking with her?"

"Was I?" Denib asked with an upraised eyebrow. "I still am. Yet you should still talk with her about it. If she expands her education and moderates her vocabulary, she could likely apply to join a particular division that experiments with ships and other systems that are more aligned with her current leanings. I believe you understand what I am speaking of."

Ah. Bolt had forgotten that they were being monitored. Denib was dancing around a few things. He wanted spiritual tech. Gadget had done something with the carrier that had made the rather prickly and isolated CFA grab at it with both hands and now they were trying to cover their greed.

"I get it I think. You also..." Bolt trailed off and changed tracks. "Ahem. Actually you will be confiscating the carrier too as part of her submission for joining I assume."

"It will. You are entitled adequate compensation, unless you wish to wave it too." The captain asked with a small smirk.

"No, that won't be something we wave. We do need a ship like that. A replacement would be fine." Bolt waved it off.

That got a laugh from the captain. "No, actually it wouldn't. If we were replacing it due to normal factors that would be acceptable. Here..." The captain trailed off as he looked for something mentally. "Ah, there we are. You're getting an upgrade."

Something beeped on Bolt's comm and he pulled it out. The carrier that appeared in there was technically Third Rate in that the reactor was that level. The rest of it was very close to Second Rate. Skimming the specs made it apparent that the ship was a custom model of some sort.

"That experimental division I mentioned made this out of a desire to see how much you could do with primitive materials and explicitly limiting themselves. The thing was taking up space, so consider it almost a favor to take it." The captain waved a hand dismissively. "Your sister will likely be building a few of them as she learns. As part of our arrangement, we can have them handed to you, so long as she performs properly."

"I ain't selling family for anything." Bolt said very firmly. "But I will pass on your statements. Gadget's one of us, and now one of yours, and we all fight very hard for our family. Ya get it?"

"That is a very optimistic point of view, but a career of service is not something we are unfamiliar with." For a moment the captain looked very human as he looked off at something unseen. "The CFA was founded to protect humanity. We have long lines of people who do just that. If your sister lives up to those ideals, then she will have both my gratitude and appreciation."

"Well, I believe she'll try her best." Bolt said with a nod. "She's got a good head on her shoulders."

Captain Denib nodded as he got to his feet. "For a new cadet, that is all we ask for. Real duty comes after the training."

The man disappeared after that and Bolt stared a moment at the space before sighing and relaxing completely. That could have gone far worse.

 

[lost star]

With the CFA in orbit enforcing peace, the only thing they had left to do on the planet was cleanup. Locally this meant that morale was starting to soar. Battles had been reduced to a trickle due to sheer fear of possible CFA intervention. The organization wouldn't stop every fight on the surface, but no one wanted to chance the very fatal attention they'd provide. The Wrench Rats finally had room to repair and work.

They didn't even have to worry about the sandmen breaking through either. While the CFA wasn't going to handle 'internal' human affairs, they also weren't going to let the Sandmen disrupt them either. They were taking their time heading out actually, using normal FTL. If a few aliens got in their way, well they'd be negligent in their duties allowing them to exist. The pressure on the planet conflict wise was therefore basically gone. This meant a lot of celebration when there wasn't work.

Bolt was definitely not in the mood for something like that, so he'd ended up avoiding the main passages and sticking to the more isolated or barren areas. One of them, almost hilariously, was the main tactical room. There people still worked. It was with a skeleton crew yes, but they still worked.

"We still have many, many things to do, but for now we have something resembling a victory." Kriff explained once Bolt realized how empty the room was.

"No, no I get it." Bolt took a seat in front of the main tactical map. "Actually, if yer up for it, want to do a quick review?" He gestured.

"Something informal is fine ." The general agreed. "I still cannot believe this is the second time this has happened." He muttered.

"Hoping it's the last time." Bolt agreed. "Least it wasn't me this time."

"That does bring up a very large question we do need to answer for the future of the planet. Are your parents having more children?" Kriff asked almost half jokingly as he took a seat.

"Hah! No. They said they have enough stress already. The did negotiate with a few geneticists to have their DNA scanned. My sister and I have something special and rare apparently, but not unheard of. There's some hope for cheap genetic therapies for future generations or something like that based off our DNA." Bolt frowned slightly. "Actually, thinking about it, I should see how much we've gotten saved up. We do need to employ one at some point. Lilly's still furious she can't have her own kids."

"There is time. Honestly, now might be the best time. We have a cover for her in Headhunter, no one's eager to fight at the moment, and there's little immediate tasks that need to be accomplished." The general advised while bringing up a few things. "Even if the CFA leaves no one will attack this place for a good year or so just out of pure paranoia. You'd just need to arrange a secured trip and security there and back."

"That's probably the easiest thing." Renting a small MTA transport for just two people was actually 'relatively' cheap. Bolt could probably get Bubbles to help arrange that even. "But enough of that. Evaluations?" The designer asked the general.

"First thing I can think of is that we're likely going to be cutting back some on the Zombies. They're solid for their place, but too unconventional for raw recruits. I'd like to put more into the Soldiers, because a mech that moves forward with a spear is very easy to direct. " Kriff chuckled as he seemed to recall something. "I'd phase them out but a lot of our people like them for one reason or another."

"Fair." Bolt agreed with a nod.

"I'll hasten to say that I still want some. Not only do they produce some surprising hilarity sometimes, they're extremely useful to feign weakness when we need it." Kriff brought up a few pictures of mechs carrying around heads.

He hadn't intended that to be a feature, but he'd take it. "Anything else?"

"Bloody Berserkers are probably the only model I'd have complaints in, but that's only because using them in their intended role is costly. They're just a bit unconventional otherwise. Really I'd say everything you have is. It took work getting used to. This is both good and bad. The enemy has to adapt, but we do too." The general wiped out the pictures and brought up recordings of the previous battles. "For instance, the Undertakers went from being niche to being horrific battlefield controllers with just that strange change you did. That actually brings up my only real concern at the moment." He zoomed out. "What would we use for offense?"

"Off hand I'd say the Ghouls and the Curse Crows, but that's a bit anemic. The rest are sort of slow marchers due to a variety of factors." Bolt mused.

"Put it on your docket if you will then. Lower urgency is fine. Right now our goals are going to be to establish a presence on the planet and try to organize cleanups and actual systems for everyone else. We're probably going to have to fortify a few mountains. I don't think anyone else living here would be comfortable on the surface due to the constant battles." Kriff shook his head as he looked over the planet. "Hell of a thing to worry about."

He couldn't disagree with that. At the same time, when the battles weren't happening, he couldn't say he hated the world either. It was home to Bolt.

"For once we all have the ability to do lower priority things though, and that includes you. My suggestion is to head off with Lilly if you have the money and make those arrangements for childern. See if you can arrange to transport Morning Star as well. It does us no good here, and it'd reassure people if you keep some sort of defense with you." Kriff advised.

"I suppose I can research it all." Bolt said after some thought before turning back to the map. "Nothing else?"

"There's a whole host of things I could bring up. All of them boil down to the fact we need more mech designs. Yet like I said, we can wait. It's a fucking miracle, but we can wait." Kriff paused and leaned back in his seat. "If anything I think it'd be best for you to take your time if you leave. You and Lilly are pins holding everything up and you've been holding a lotta weight. Rest, recover, and stop thinking about what you can do for everyone and handle you own ass for a bit. Fuck, from what I've been told you never really had a honeymoon. Take one while you do your thing. If the geneticist insists on having her carry the child you'll want to limit piloting, and she'd go mad if there's nothing to do."

It was a very blatant near order that Bolt figured would be good to take. He left the room and began to research a few things before writing up a few messages. Might as well do this right if he was going to try.

A few exchanges with Bubbles, and then with an official who seemed like a cross between a travel agent and an MTA salesmen ended up with an actual itinerary. Bolt and Lilly would essentially pay for transportation to a specific planet. There they'd visit a geneticist that could help Lilly, and likely spend almost a year away while the child gestated and was born before returning.

It was surprisingly easy to arrange, and not even that expensive MTA credit wise. It was still hellishly expensive in local currency, but that wasn't something Bolt could fix. It was just one of the problems he'd had with his situation. MTA credits were simply too large to do anything locally, and using them would both draw attention and not really fix any serious issues. Using them here was splurging, but it was also discrete, relatively.

 

[lost star]

CFA educational facilities were top of the line. Education was beyond important to them. It was considered the cornerstone of their reality. Everyone who worked on a ship was expected to be an expert in at least one topic. If they wanted to advance, you had to demonstrate excellence in many subjects and meet a thousand other criteria to boot.

Gadget was finding that it didn't change that much in the end. She'd been bundled off here with great ceremony and more than an little dread to find out that in the end it was still school. Sure the topics were done better, they had custom plans, and she was pushed as far as psychological profiles showed she could be pushed, but it was still school. Her first few days had been lessons almost similar to what she'd dealt with normally. The only real change was that they were challenging rather than tedious memorization. She wondered if that was what her brother had felt sometimes. Feeling like you were moving through a world of grey before you found something that pushed you.

The largest quirk she'd found was the insistence on automation. Everything was monitored and controlled by computers. Every second of every day had a camera and microphone watching you. Even in your quarters. (Privacy concerns had automated censors there, but they existed.) You also had forced interactions and teamwork on a regular schedule with the reasoning that running a ship required teamwork and obedience. It was all a harshly regulated structure. This would change after graduation, but right now Gadget had to expect her time and space was all owned by the CFA.

It wasn't that hard to deal with emotionally. Perhaps another would have found it hard. Gadget had grown up in a series of creches and nurseries with a few dozen other kids while active battles had been fought close enough for her to hear them. (She hated mechs for a reason.) This was paradise compared to that. Some of the other cadets had grown up differently though, and they tended to lash out in counterproductive ways.

"Having fun Cadet Silica?" The voice of one those people made her look up from her current coursework.

"Cadet Comet." Gadget gave the young man a nod. "I am thriving." She said simply.

"Still taking with a grounder accent I see. You will need to address that, and how you wear your uniform." Comet informed the girl disdainfully. "You won't advance like that. That's assuming you can handle the coursework. No implant yet?"

Implants were actually a touchy subject she'd accidentally stumbled on. Gadget had expected everyone to have one. About half of them did. Those who were children of captains and higher typically, but not even all of them. There were actually very serious debates on when the best time to have one was in First Rate nations. There were even debates on whether they were even useful early or not. Some implants were highly specific and putting them in a kid before you knew their aptitude could be actively harmful. Of course children didn't care. If you had one, you were good. If you didn't, you were bad.

"I plan on saving up enough merits in time, but I might not have one implanted." The girl said with a small shrug.

"What?" Comet asked with a surprised and disdainful expression that he barely covered. "I mean, if you wish to cripple yourself that way, feel free."

"That is a matter of perspective." Gadget replied before deliberately turning back to her work. "The group project is starting soon. I believe your group is over there." She pointed carefully.

"Tch." Comet almost spat out before walking away.

Bullying was a normal thing no matter where you went apparently. Physical actions weren't acceptable of course. Verbal actions like what he'd done were usually logged. Comet likely had a small demerit on his record now. It'd be wiped within a day, assuming he didn't do anything else, which he likely wouldn't. When everything was automated and monitored you learned how to game things, and Comet definitely knew how to game things.

Frankly it was tame. Once the glamor wore off, Gadget found herself only impressed by the technology. The education was good, but the people were still people. Really compared to the hammers and oil that Wrench Rats could get into, the attempted bullying here was both tame and verbal. Cadets simply lacked too much to do more than petty verbal snipes. Gadget was quite sure that'd change as she advanced.

"What's this I hear about no implant?" Gadget's partner for the day asked as he took a seat next to her.

"It will take me years to save up for a good one. I might not even want one by then." The girl said simply. "Also the division I wish to go into actually requests that we not get one before joining. Apparently some of their experiments can have possible interference with specific models."

"Hah! Well I'm getting a combat implant ASAP. I'm Cadet Monkey." The young man gave a nod and a smile. "Probably getting into ship security and investigation."

Gadget already knew his name thanks to the project documentation, but she was still mildly curious about the name. Not that she was going to ask. That felt rude.

"Cadet Silica." Gadget introduced herself with a nod.

"Interesting accent." Monkey said slowly before grinning. "Guessing you're from somewhere fun!"

"Something like that." Gadget replied with a small internal laugh. "Shall we start on the project?"

"Oh sure, it's one of the random ones. Looks like... Huh, security patrol?" Monkey stared at the projection of their current assignment as the hologram formed in front of them.

"Looks more like a pseudo random one based on our combined specialties." Gadget noted. "Showing patrol routes, places of interest, places where ground forces would assault, and so on. We need to make a plan for defense." She shrugged. "Not difficult." She traced a few lines on the projection with a finger. "In the interests of teamwork you will need to contribute as well."

"Not difficult she says. She analyzed the entire assignment and did what amounted to an hours worth of work in a second." The other cadet said with a half grin. "I suppose we know why you don't need an implant."

"This isn't special." Gadget dismissed and pointed. "See, others are doing something similar. If anything, you might be behind here." She noted.

"I'm on more a grunt track. Good at physical, not the mental." The young man admitted without shame. "Could probably beat the pants off you in the sparing ring."

"Probably." Gadget gave an indifferent nod in tepid agreement.

There was a better than even chance he could. She didn't care for physical aside from keeping fit. That was perfectly fine. Everyone had their strengths. (According to her genetic profile, she could better physically, but why bother expending the time?)

"What, not even a snide comment about meathead?" Monkey asked after a moment.

Gadget almost laughed. "Why would I? It'd be a bit counter productive, and I ain't one ta do that." She paused as she realized her accent was slipping. "Plus my sister-in-law is an Expert. I have a healthy respect for the physical side. Good fighters need smarts too." She tapped at the assignment pointedly.

With a sigh, the other cadet started to help with the work. Gadget switched to something she could pay half her attention to while she worked on the project. The current task wasn't very challenging, but she had to assume that there was going to be more than this afterwards, likely something physical. Best to try to make her partner memorize a few paths and protocols before they started.

She'd naturally already memorized it all, and had a copy stored in the spiritual computer in her hairpin. It was mildly amusing to notice how bad even the CFA was at recognizing this sort of thing. When she had more authority she'd see about teaching some of it. For now it was a nice secret weapon for more CFA merits. Bolt had already made waves. She was going to make some of her own, in her own way.

(Monitoring stations noted Gadget's current progress, achievements, and general attitude. Her ranking in class was increased. This produced an error as the automated protocols were unable to push her higher. The error was noted and the programmer involved found hidden weighting placed on cadets with certain backgrounds. The issue was reported. The reports resulted in an immediate assassination attempt, several fist fights, and a singular instance of vandalism. Eventually the weighting was eliminated with extreme prejudice and an official investigation was ordered by an absolutely furious Admiral. The man had been less concerned with the weighting and more that it had been applied unofficially.)

 

[lost star]

"This feels like it's running away from something." Lilly muttered to Bolt as they got ready for their trip.

"Do you expect everything to fall apart the second we're gone?" Bolt asked in turn, because he did.

"A little." Lilly replied with a half smile.

That was probably a problem. Bolt was self aware enough to realize he'd been burning a bit brightly. Devoting everything to a place left you with nothing for yourself, and that was a rather large problem when you wanted a life. Bolt was a designer. He was not some nation builder. He also didn't want his home to become just an extension of himself. So stepping away for a year when things were fine was a good idea.

"If it does then we didn't do a good job." Bolt eventually concluded.

"Hah. Brutal, but fair I think." Lilly looked over what they were bringing.

It wasn't much. Clothing would be on the ship. As would basically everything else they could think of. The thing would have fabricators and facilities that could handle everything. First Rate ships had a lot. The sum total of things was basically comms and a few tools.

"Hate myself a bit for spending so much on this." The designer admitted once they finished packing what little they needed.

"You ran the numbers." Lilly reminded him. "We also want the best things for the kid. I want a kid Bolt. I want multiple kids if we can manage it. I don't want to be just a good expert." She said very firmly.

Bolt nodded in agreement. Fulfilling that request was always going to be expensive. Doing it with MTA credits had part of his plan so that they could get the best service possible. He was just being a bit of a miser. That was counterproductive here. So he tried his best to put his distaste for the big purchases out of his mind.

It helped that it was the most efficient option. Purchasing an MTA transport for him and Lilly's mechs practically guaranteed safety there and back. Anything less in a time of war like this would be risky. Bundling it all with the other things he wanted done, like Lilly's life extension and her fertility treatments, was just economical. The numbers worked. It was just so much money!

He was dallying too much on it. Bolt left the room and said a few goodbyes. They weren't particularly long goodbyes, just enthusiastic. This was really just a long vacation. It'd be good for everyone. The trip would hopefully be both refreshing and helpful.

Once they were finished, they were teleported up to the ship and began their trip. Quick and easy. Hopefully the rest would be just as easy. Bolt didn't hold out hope.

Far away, Bolt's destination got the information of a new guest and began preparations. Morocco Haven was considered by many a paradise planet. It was positioned very precisely in the goldilocks zone around it's star. It had a wide variety of beaches and tropic islands. There were no problematic native species. The most notable native life were massive coral clusters and glowing, non-poisonous, jellyfish. Even the temperature was always nice. As a massive tourist planet in the Friday state, it took pride in being a beautiful place to spend a day, a month, or even years. There was a lot of care and dedication in keeping it that way. Even in the war it had traffic in the millions.

This easy and tranquil setting was why it had a lot of medical clinics as well. It was very good for recovery and long medical procedures. One of those clinics was Bolt and Lilly's destination. The facilities were on the smaller side footprint wise. It consisted of a decently sized medical area, and a series of suites that were as close to First Class as one could get with Second Class tech. It was also one of the most expensive and advanced facilities on the planet. It prided itself on discretion and good service. Its standard clientele were high level politicians and important people. They had a waiting list, or rather multiple waiting lists, though this fact was not advertised.

Bolt had actually applied to be on the list several months before his trip. He'd been placed on the 'maybe in a few years list.' Most due to the tentative nature of his request, his status, and the lack of immediate payment. As a young Journeyman he'd been considered low priority, but also someone that had enough potential not to be dismissed off hand. They would have followed up in a few years, assuming his star had continued to rise. More than one recruitment for the nation had been done in this matter, and they had procedures for it. Bolt's recent inquiry accompanied be several factors implying association with the MTA meant that this evaluation needed to be changed immediately.

The clinic moved his and Lilly's profiles into the front of the line and began researching him. Highly trained secretaries and data analysists summarized everything possible so that they could provide the best service possible. There was admittedly some confusion at what they found. Bolt was officially a Third Rate Journeyman. Those simply didn't have the money to make the trip, much less afford the clinic normally. Yet Lilly was getting some very expensive processes done, including highly secured and highly sought after life extension treatments. A quick check confirmed the legitimacy. With that lack of information the clinic had no real idea of what his status was. They had to assume that he was an MTA affiliate of some sort. (Actual MTA members would go to a First Rate doctor. That was still out of reach for Bolt and Lilly, and frankly didn't promise enough to make waiting worth it.)

The two were bumped up again in priority. From important to highest priority. Their requested job was identified, their requested doctor had her scheduled readied, and then the woman was sent everything they had. It was a fairly standard high priority case truthfully, and they all knew the procedures. Prompt, sincere service with no complications was the best way to get this done and how they kept their high reviews and exclusive clientele.

Doctor Tyra was the woman responsible for overseeing the entire medical operation. She was a designer baby herself and had dedicated her life working on helping other people have children. She was considered one of the best in the field, and had even been consulted in some First Rate issues. She was essentially a brilliant woman in a highly competitive and mildly secretive field. This was both a good and bad thing.

Despite the surface appearances genetic alteration was a rather dirty discipline. Designer babies were extremely high value 'products' if you wanted to be cold about it. The amount of money and desires being thrown around meant that morals were typically the first things to go. People wanted the very best for their children. If you had to add a bit of illegal alien DNA to get the best, that was perfectly acceptable to many. It was a small internal field secret that they didn't advertise but everyone was aware of. This didn't even get into the even less than palatable desires and beliefs. There were reasons beyond the obvious that made genetic alteration something done discretely rather than publicly and proudly.

This was important here, because Tyra recognized several markers on Lilly's makeup upon review. She had a list of things that meant she had to alert various people. This one was with for a more cult-like group. That group had given her access to several secrets that gave her a significant leg up. Her entire career had been enabled by this.

She therefore literally owed them her position and was practically obligated to inform them about Lilly, client-patient confidentiality be damned. Fortunately for her conscience she also didn't really have to do anything that seemed sketchy in her mind. All the organization had wanted was for her to inform them of certain things if they appeared. She had been specifically told not to do anything more than send the information. So, as ordered, she sent out a discrete signal with the appropriate details. Once it was sent, she then proceeded to do her job as normal.

That signal and information traveled to an isolated cell tasked with processing information like what she'd sent. The cell looked at the information, saw the markers, and sent it up. The signal went to their handlers. Then it moved up further. Ultimately it reached people who the MTA and CFA would call members of the Five Scrolls Compact.

Those members made their own plans.

Unfortunately for everyone, they were not the only plans. Bolt had tried to be discrete. The MTA had been discrete. The MTA was also a multi-ton elephant in the room. People noticed every action. They were usually just politely ignored. In times of war like this, there was precious little politeness.

Spoiler: Evaluations

Variant name: Curse Crow V2
Base model: Curse Crow

Weight Classification: Light
Recommended Role: Flying Debilitator
Armor: D+
Carrying Capacity: D
Aesthetics: B+
Endurance: C+
Energy Efficiency: C
Flexibility: B-
Firepower: C+
Integrity: C-
Mobility: A
Spotting: C
X-Factor: A

Overall Evaluation: A flying mech with a specialized and unique ability to 'curse' an enemy. Born from a fusion of three separate design philosophies it uses nano-machine laced needles to bypass an enemy's armor to hack their internal processes. The resulting attack is both semi-random and debilitating in some fashion. While it cannot be lethal alone, and is always temporary, the resulting disruption makes the victim easy pickings for follow up attacks.

Due to several design choices, this is a flying mech of choice for those with low to moderate skill. The needle deployment is optimized for high speed flybys and puts the mech at low risk due to the speed and altitude tolerances. This makes them useful as a setup for a one two combo of some sort. Unfortunately the design choices also make the mech's weapon non-modular. The hacking effect is tied to the framework and ethos of the mech, rendering it unusable when taken out.


Variant name: Skeleton Sniper
Base model: Skeleton Sniper

Weight Classification: Medium
Recommended Role: Marksman
Armor: D+
Carrying Capacity: D+
Aesthetics: C-
Endurance: C
Energy Efficiency: B
Flexibility: C-
Firepower: B+
Integrity: C-
Mobility: C
Spotting: B
X-Factor: C (Weapon is B)

Overall Evaluation: A budget marksmen mech with a nascent x-factor design focused around its weapon. It shows a budding specialty and grounding in design atypical from standard. While the design has been stripped of almost everything that is not necessary for its role, it still retains enough to make it a moderately useful design in its intended area and budget.


Variant name: Skeleton Deadeye
Base model: Skeleton Sniper

Weight Classification: Medium
Recommended Role: Marksman
Armor: C
Carrying Capacity: D+
Aesthetics: C-
Endurance: C+
Energy Efficiency: B
Flexibility: C
Firepower: A
Integrity: C-
Mobility: C
Spotting: B
X-Factor: B

Overall Evaluation: A variant mech designed to work with a higher budget than the base design. The skeleton looks have been retained, but higher quality armor has been applied to allow it to survive more combat scenarios than the base model. The ammo has likewise been improved, introducing several variants contained in a small side-kit and designed to work against different armor types. This has removed the frugal nature of the initial design, but turned the mech into a specialized sniper that can destroy a variety of mechs with few shots. The x-factor is focused around analyzing enemies and eventually destroying them. This makes it disproportionately lethal if the pilot is ably to work with the design.


Variant name: Immortal Soldier
Base model: Immortal Soldier

Weight Classification: Medium
Recommended Role: Spearman
Armor: C
Carrying Capacity: C
Aesthetics: B-
Endurance: B
Energy Efficiency: D
Flexibility: C
Firepower: C+
Integrity: B
Mobility: C
Spotting: C
X-Factor: C (Component is B)

Overall Evaluation: A spearmen that uses takes several higher level concepts and downgrades them into a lesser form. The Immortal Soldier is a mech with an internal package of nanomachines that can be activated to give quick repairs. This gives the mech the ability to maintain battle capability far longer than its stats would suggest. While the mech's performance is outshined by almost all other mechs in the same category, it serves as proof that nanomachines can be used cost effectively in a Third Rate machine.


Variant name: Eternal Soldier
Base model: Immortal Soldier

Weight Classification: Medium
Recommended Role: Spearman
Armor: C+
Carrying Capacity: C
Aesthetics: B-
Endurance: B+
Energy Efficiency: C
Flexibility: C
Firepower: C+
Integrity: B+
Mobility: C
Spotting: C
X-Factor: B

Overall Evaluation: A refined variant of the Immortal Soldier that is designed to take damage and nothing else. This mech is focused on becoming immortal, and both it's x-factor and design choices are meant to reinforce that. If the reactor and pilot are intact, the mech can repair anything but lost limbs over time by expending the stored nanomachine solution. Of note, this solution is made with Third Rate technology, and is relatively affordable for the benefits it brings. It's still less costly to repair it normally. The mech is best considered a niche frontline unit that focuses on grinding or holding down enemies for more powerful mechs to deal with.


Variant name: Dullahan
Base model: Dullahan

Weight Classification: Medium
Recommended Role: Expert Front Line mech
Armor: B
Carrying Capacity: B
Aesthetics: A
Endurance: B+
Energy Efficiency: B+
Flexibility: Variable
Firepower: A
Integrity: B+
Mobility: C
Spotting: C-
X-Factor: A

Overall Evaluation: A deadly melee mech designed for an expert. The x-factor has aligned nearly perfectly with the intended pilot, causing the two to reinforce one another This has allowed it to have a unique resonance effect. It can summon 'ghosts' of defeated opponents by placing their heads on its neck, allowing it to mimic other experts for a short time. This can give it the mech extreme flexibility based off which heads are taken and what the pilot decides to carry at the moment, making it impossible to evaluate certain factors.

Without the resonance effect the mech is a fairly standard axe man. Falling on the power end of the spectrum, it's meant to take damage and return more damage rather than dodge. This makes alpha striking the mech extremely difficult and should allow it to always have an answer for the enemy, providing the expert has done his research and has the appropriate heads.

 

[lost star]

The trip to Morocco Haven had been both quick and uneventful. Settling down had likewise been easy. Lilly's mechs had both been deposited in a small hanger right next to the facility. The clinic had a lot of high profile people apparently, and it was not uncommon for mechs to be brought. The only things unusual about it was that they were Third Rate and that there were two for one expert.

Lilly had been understandably eager to get started. Bolt had been less so. The employees were quite used to this sort of procedure and attitudes though. They were also both eager and highly trained, so the young woman had been ushered into a separate area while Bolt did his own thing. They'd gone over a lot of the process before they landed, and there was rather little for Bolt to do at this point. On Lilly's side, the very first thing they needed to do was sedate her and then start the Life Extension treatment. That would take about two weeks and she'd be out of it that entire time. After that Lilly's body would need a few days to settle while they did analysis of any changes and then they could finalize the plan for the kids. It apparently needed to be done in that order because life extension treatment significantly altered many calculations they needed.

"Did anyone ever really go over everything with you?" Doctor Tyra asked once Bolt settled into a seat across from her in their preliminary one-on-one.

"Ya mean the process?" Bolt asked back.

"No I believe you've already gone over that thoroughly. The genetic profiles and why Lilly needs this treatment." The woman clarified before continuing with a smile as she looked over files. "Let's put it simply. Lilly's DNA was customized before birth for specific features. Her height, her hair color, and even her dyslexia. It was all built into her, and none of it's standard."

Bolt nodded seriously and outlined the goal he and Lilly had desired. "Our wish is mostly ta have kids more towards the norm so that they won't need this treatment for themselves." They'd gone over that before this had started. "Don't want them ta have to do this."

"That's not the most common procedure, but we can certainly do that and are already starting the initial calculations needed. It requires more precision naturally. Physical reproduction as a whole is delicate and accounting for that requires more work. It is within our capabilities of course, but it does add to the complexity and is something we definitely need to account for." The doctor began to bring up profiles. "That said, you still need to make a few choices."

Bolt grumbled and crossed his arms. "We have some ideas, but I'd like her ta be here before we make the decisions." They had also spoken of it, but the final decision would have to happen after the life-extension because apparently that complicated things.

Tyra gave an agreeable nod. "Of course, we wouldn't dream of pressuring you to choose now. This is just to give you something to review while the initial treatment is occurring and smooth out any bumps. You will be getting a digital packet to pursue at your leisure, but I'd like to go over a few minor initial things to see if you have questions. You'll be able to determine sex, hair color, general aptitude, and so on. I must warn you that your personal strengths won't be explicitly passed on. You're aware of your own status?"

"Something something peak something?" Bolt had reviewed it once and promptly shoved it into a corner of his mind.

"The scientific name changes every decade. It's been called the Golden Body, the Perfect Alignment, and so on. Put very simply, everyone's genetics has a variance that defines what a person's body is capable of. Your profile is the highest possible potential for a human at an unenhanced level." The woman looked a bit irritated as she continued. "It's also not something that is always passed on genetically, it can be suboptimal in certain situations, and requires a significant amount of precision to engineer artificially. I will include the documentation for it. We can do it with our tools, but it requires extreme care and more than a little time. Do keep in mind that potential we give our children is just that, potential. Children become their own people, and we all the potential in the world doesn't matter if they don't live up to it."

"I'll look into it, though that does bring up another question. How easy is it to make another child after the first one?" Bolt asked seriously.

"It depends on what options you want. The more tailored you desire, the more monitoring and treatments we need. If you want less tailored children we can easily produce multiple fertilized eggs that can be implanted even in Third Rate states. I'd only suggest constant monitoring and that Lilly carries the children for four to six months if you go that route." Tyra offered with an agreeable nod. It was likely a very common request.

Something about that tickled at Bolt's intuition and he tilted his head. "Oh?" He prompted.

"Artificial incubation is actually advised for the last month so that the mother can avoid the stresses of birth, but multiple studies had found that the pilot potential and health prospects are higher when the mother carries the child for some time. Six months is considered an optimal tradeoff."

Bolt nodded slowly. That was an interesting fact that made him wonder about a lot of things. That wasn't his specialty though, so he was going to just put it in the interesting facts and leave it at that.

The doctor waited a beat before she spoke up once more. "From personal experience I'd suggest you make a small list of potential traits you'd like and discuss them with your wife when she wakes. It tends to speed things up. Sex and appearance are relatively easy and don't require advanced work, so start with that. Please read the information package and also take advantage of our entertainment facilities as well."

Or in other words, they were done here and please don't hover. Bolt chuckled to himself as he left the room. He then realized he had absolutely nothing to do at the moment. Two weeks without Lilly, without duties, and without anything else.

It was a surprisingly weighty discovery. Bolt wasn't attached at the hip to Lilly, but without his wife or work he was at a serious loss. What could he do?

For now the young man made his way back to his suite. The large set of rooms was expensive, fancy, and really not to his taste. Bolt sighed as he took a seat one one of the couches and brought out his comm. Perhaps he should design some?

This was supposed to be a vacation. He shouldn't. Even the best of the best needed time to relax, and Bolt wanted to clear his mind and look at things from a new perspective.

That was going to mean trying something different. Bolt grumbled to himself as he tried to think of what that could be. Eventually he started to look through what was available on the planet. There was both a lot and a little. There were literally countless beach activities. He could go swimming or check out some coral reefs. That felt like something to do with Lilly.

A bit of paging for mech related things left Bolt with less. The local mech scene was anemic at best. There were no real piloting competitions and there was like one arena on the planet. Keeping the place pristine was considered more important than indulging mechs. There were a few very minor design competitions for people under Journeymen.

To his mild surprise, there was a small invitation for a guest lecture at one of the designing schools. Bolt wasn't even aware that he was on any sort of list for that, but it did seem interesting. There was also another invitation for a design debate with fellow Journeyman.

Design debates were basically the closest thing to sparring Mech Designers had. It was very low stakes, very low reward, and was typically done to sharpen rhetoric rather than design abilities. A lot of, putting it politely, average Journeymen would frequently visit them. Bolt was fairly sure that most rising stars ignored them. He was curious enough to give it a shot.

That'd hopefully be enough for him to occupy himself, Bolt decided and then paused. He should probably go shopping too, just to see how things were locally. Perhaps he'd find something interesting, and there was apparently an open air market nearby.

 

[lost star]

Class was a heavy thing in the galaxy. First Class, Second Class, Third Class. All of them were distinctly separated. Many of the ways they were separated were deliberately done. One of them was clothing. Your average Third Rate man used synthetic stuff that was comfortable and only needed to be cleaned once a week or something. Second Rate stuff was self cleaning, temperature controlled, knife proof, and bullet proof. First Rate let you hover and could last in space for a few hours without intervention as well as the rest. The cost of a First Rate bit of clothing was something on the order of a hundred to a thousand times more than a Third Rate outfit. This varied tremendously of course. First Rate fashion demanded certain things, and the elite wouldn't be caught dead in anything less than the most expensive and gaudy suit they could get. Casual wear had less of a divide.

None of this was needed. None of this was necessary. It was just fashion and the desire not to be seen low class. Bolt found most of it nonsense, but he could admit he didn't mind the safety features. He'd gotten a good dozen outfits that sort of straddled a lot of lines using the fabricator on the MTA ship. Their main features were that they were very durable, they doubled as modest armor, and were temperature controlled, which he very much appreciated.

Why was he thinking about clothing? Well, Bolt had overestimated his ability to handle the market. The amount of color there was outright insane. Combine it with the movement of the crowds, the advertisements, and all the noise, and he ended up being so disorientated that he had to slip into a store to prevent himself from being overwhelmed.

"Sir?" One of the attendants approached him with a slightly cautious look and Bolt realized another thing.

His clothing colors were fairly muted. Just earth tones. The clothing was also a bit thick. In other words he looked like someone rather low class. The store he'd ducked into looked very high class.

"Sorry, first time in the market and felt a bit ill. Let me rest my eyes a bit..." Bolt glanced around the store and blinked. "Sunglasses?" Nice coincidence.

"Yes, the latest and greatest models from across the galaxy. They can adjust for light, be hooked up to your favorite galactic broadcasts, and even function as privacy screens for your face against standard facial recognition devices." The attendant said with a very small incline of his head. "We do have relatively cheap models if you are interested. The crowds and lights can be rather shocking to visitors, and I can recommend a few models."

Bolt's eyebrows raised up. "Yer actually trying to make a sale, politely." He glanced down at himself.

The salesman shrugged with a small salesman smile. "Slow day, and you wouldn't believe the number of tales they tell about people in ratty shirts being billionaires. Not that you are in poor clothing. Some people prefer muted colors. I would request you move away from the door if you still need to recover though. People like to almost run in and you don't want to be bowled over."

Chuckling Bolt stepped aside and then scanned the shades available. "One of the MIB models please, pro-rated."

"Ah, military?" The salesmen immediately grabbed one of the models in question. "Could I interest you in a life-time guarantee?"

"Mech designer actually, and no, that's fine." Bolt took the shades and placed them over his eyes.

The MIB style sunglasses were on the firm side of stern style wise and more importantly would help filter out some of the flashing lights he was dealing with. Pro-rated just meant they were designed for high intensity work. It was a bit pricy, but they'd set aside a fair bit of money for this sort of thing.

"Oh, designer?" A flirty voice mad Bolt glance to the side to see a rather striking looking woman with red hair that had just come in. "What sort of designs? I'd love to hear about them."

"Not sure there'd be a point. I do Third Rate stuff." Bolt replied back absentmindedly as he flipped through the digital booklet that the shades had. "Hmm. Not sure I like the network connection." He told the salesman.

"We do have variations that lack any computer. They're on the cheap and very expensive sides of our products." The salesman warned Bolt while also giving the woman a small look. "Miss, please don't bother our customers or I'd have to throw you out."

"I wouldn't mind a pair myself. They look fantastic on you." The woman admitted.

"Sarah?" The attendant called out as he led Bolt deeper into the shop. "Got one for you!"

Bolt barely noticed the byplay. He finished with the model he had and handed it to the man, then pointed to another set. This one was called something rather nonsensical, BibBib. They were surprisingly pricy.

"This model carries most standard features but is also for the more privacy focused customers. The lack of internal computer makes it less versatile, but also more secure and something you can use in more restricted areas, if you're so inclined." The salesman said with the trademark sales grin. "Most of the features are passive, but two can be activated by switches on the frame."

"Oh, it's welding rated." Bolt noted with surprise and then put them on. Felt comfortable, looked decent.

"BibBib models are actually made for people working in high intensity environments like manufacturing areas or mech battles. You use the right side of the frame to enable a small privacy screen that keeps your face from being recorded and the left side to adjust the shading. Other than that they're extremely durable, form fitting, can deflect small objects heading towards the face, and have a patented adhesive effect so that they won't fall if you're doing something like jogging or in combat." The salesman said.

"Perfect for me." The young designer said with a small smile. They were pricy, but honestly fine for his purposes.

He got rang up in short order and moved out of the store. Behind him, the red-headed woman found herself still talking with the saleswoman she'd been directed to. Bolt had already forgotten about the event as he made his way through the market.

Did he want anything else? The food stalls looked tempting. Even Second Rate stuff couldn't get away with having greasy and delicious looking trashy snacks apparently. Sure they had something that made them healthy, but they looked like something he could fry up back home. Bolt wasn't sure what to think about that. Making it healthy just felt like it was missing the point.

He still got a few hotdogs.

Munching on them he made his way through the market some more. Perhaps baby stuff? Bolt glanced over a few possible things and considered what he could see. He was actually a bit tempted, but he wasn't inclined to get something from a market. He'd make it himself for the most part, or get something he could be sure was secured. There were horror stories out there about automated stuff. (Most probably weren't true, but this was one place where he was going to be paranoid in.)

"Looking into baby stuff?" A blonde woman with long hair and pink highlights asked as he browsed a bit.

"Wife and I are having a child." Bolt answered with a small shrug. "Hmm." He hummed out as he examined a crib. Lotta features on this one.

"I could recommend a few things. Haven't had a child yet, but half my friends have." She said with a wave to a few of the other ones. "Half of these have so many functions that it gets disorientating."

Bolt shook his head. "Not tha best time I think, even if I wanted these. Still got a few months ta go." The young man gave the woman a nod. "Thank you for offering though."

"Oh don't mention it. I love kids. Could I get your contact information? We can talk more about it later if you like." The woman continued with a flip of her hair and a small smile.

"No thank you." Bolt was married and on the opposite side of interested.

"Well the offer is open. I could show you a few more good places for baby things."

Bolt smiled and then stepped away. Fortunately for his sanity the woman didn't pursue. It was turning out to be a trend that continued as he explored. He wasn't quite sure why so many women kept approaching him, but it became irritated enough that he cut the visit short.

"Ok, who authorized the honey traps?!"

"We don't know! There's a background check running on them. One of them seems clean based on a quick look."

"What?!"

"He's a very fit man, and the clothing he's wearing is subtle but almost First Rate if you know the brands. Frankly he's lucky he only had them flirting. Some of those gold-diggers can get blatant."

"Damnit, cancel ours then."

 

[lost star]

After the uncomfortable market visit Bolt decided he'd just order things delivered if he needed them. In retrospect he should have expected a bit of that. He'd grown up in a place with almost no people. Large crowds and strangers were not something he'd be good with. He was actually hesitant to do the guest lecture as a result of this, but he figured that at least was more structured. He also did have to get used to public speaking and the like. That would likely be something he had to do more of in the future as he improved.

Thankfully the Tranquil Academy for Mechanical Arts was a relatively calm and small academic institution for a Second Rate place. The planet wasn't known for mech design after all. All of the kids there were there because they either couldn't leave, or wanted to stay at home. Bolt could relate a bit. Not much though, because Second Rate mech markets were different than Third Rate. There were a lot more masters there, so starting off as an amateur was far harder. If you wanted to advance you either had to find a very small niche or join a company.

Bolt hadn't really been sure what he could offer as a guest speaker really. He'd come up with an idea after talking with the professor who'd invited him, and after running the numbers had found it relatively cheap to do. It would hopefully help all the students and be entertaining for everyone. It was also a bit unconventional, but that was almost normal for him.

"Yer probably wondering why you're here." Bolt drawled out as the students stepped into the hanger and adjusted his new sunglasses. "Pleasure to meet ya. I'm Bolt Silica, I'm a Journeyman, and have made three masterwork mechs. Glad ya could make it."

He waited a beat for everyone to file in. The number of students who wanted to attend was on the smaller side. About a hundred plus. The college was relatively small and the mech division was likewise relatively small. None of the people here really had potential. Bolt could tell that right off the bat just based off the looks he was getting. There was a sort of hazy and almost vapid look that students doing this for just a grade had. This was actually more than fine to him.

"Yes, I'm a designer." Bolt answered the most obvious question first. "I know I don't look it." He flexed an arm and tilted his sunglasses a bit. "No there aren't seats. You're not going to be sitting for this."

At his command the young adults spread out some and Bolt stepped back.

"Yer professors told you that this was extra credit I believe?" Bolt asked the group and gave a nod at the tepid response. "Good. Now, those willing ta get dirty can step up. Those who aren't step back. Don't be shy. Ya'll got the credit no matter what."

About twenty students stepped out of the crowd tentatively. Bolt gave them all a look. Half of them just looked amused. Most were men. The ones that weren't amused were giving him, well almost eager looks. It was a sort of tentative engagement.

"All right. Everyone interested should bring up their comms. I'm sure ya all have a lotta theory. You should have just gotten a file that has a mech design." Bolt explained as he stuck his hands in his pocket. "Yes it's Third Rate. Yes, it's extremely basic. Give it a once over and I'll wait a bit."

The blueprint that had been sent was a very stripped down and very simplified mech. It was technically a swordsman if you gave it a weapon. It would actually work decently if you got rid of the deliberate flaws that would prevent it from working. It wouldn't win awards, but it was a relatively solid design aside from the things put there to prevent from functioning. It was basically a teaching mech that Bolt had whipped up in a few minutes. (He'd actually looked, and there weren't any of them out there strangely enough.)

"We're building it with the tools you see here. Can ya'll tell me what sort of mech it is?" Bolt asked. "You can also step forward and back if you want. I know some people might not be confident. We got an entire day and you can switch out. Just call out if you want in or out."

There was a lot of shuffling and fumbling in front of Bolt. A few people stepped back. More stepped forward. It ended up being reduced to fifteen people.

Bolt did not blame them. He'd deliberately gone with extremely cheap fabricators and materials. This was not some fancy automated setup. It would require some extreme manhandling. None of the designers here would touch equipment like this even if they moved into personal construction. Which brought him to the lesson.

"Now, I can't teach you fancy Second Rate techniques." Bolt said and paused at some of the looks he was seeing. "I can build Second Rate mechs." He clarified with a deliberately annoyed look. "I just don't do it whatever way you'd do it here. My first Masterwork was with tools like this. That's my lesson here. We'll walk through building a mech. By the end I expect you to have identified at least two of the four flaws I put in here to keep it from functioning. There are twelve by the way. All of them basic for mechs and things that can happen in all versions of mech design."

Those words killed the last of the prideful and disdainful looks. Bolt rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. Seriously, he'd expected less pride from these kids. This wasn't a top of the line college, and they weren't top of the line students. They should know it.

Really, the school probably hadn't expected this sort of guest lecture. The professors had enjoyed the premise, and they did seem to be enjoying the show too. One of them had even outlined the twelve flaws he'd introduced, and even found an additional one. That was entertaining. It was both a reminder that he could still make mistakes and that people could contribute in surprising ways.

Usually.

The students were absolutely useless in creating the mech. Bolt was tremendously glad he'd chosen the simplest thing possible. He could knock one of these mechs out in two hours alone. With the students here? It stretched into six. Fortunately he had the time. He also had to stop a few things for safety reasons.

"So, welding by hand is an art." Bolt explained one of them when it came up. "This is one place where machines do it..." He paused and wiggled a hand. "Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Test it first. The materials and angles can cause a lot of problems." He held up the welder. "Also, never, ever do it without training or safety equipment, which we don't have here."

"Gloves!" Someone called out as a pair of them were thrown out.

"Or we do have." Bolt said after checking over the gloves and making sure they were rated right. "Ok, you'll likely never do this by hand yourself, but if you want I am experienced with it and can give ya'll a few small lessons. We do gotta be practical though, so this'll be something you do in your own time." He paused. "In simulations." He ordered very firmly before pausing. "Actually one second." He pulled out his comm.

A few minutes later a very large freshly printed paper book was brought in. Bolt grinned at it as he picked it up. The thing was very hefty.

"This is my family's Big Book of Stupid Deaths." Bolt explained as he held it up and paged through it. "Here's a special section just for welding." He continued.

It was half funny and half horrifying reading through a lot of the examples. There were a lot of stupid deaths in it. It was actually almost more popular than building the mech for the students, and more than a few got laughs from reading the passages out loud. Bolt didn't mind, he'd done the same thing. Part of what made the book useful was the fact that it was a bit funny. You remembered the funny stuff more.

Digression aside, the mech was finished before the end of the day and Bolt had everyone step back once it was done. He then looked over everything one last time. It wouldn't work. Which was 'good.'

"All right. This is the final bit. Yer all tired, hungry, and losing focus. Who noticed the flaws." Bolt asked before shaking his head at the raised hands. "Ya'll don't need to tell me. I know them. Yer professors know them and will go over them. There's one big one that no one spoke up about." The young man moved to a console and pressed a button.

The mech started to go into the initial powering surges and then sparked. Electricity blasted out from its joints and the smell of burned mech permeated the hanger. Bolt snorted at the reaction. It was actually tamer than the last time he'd seen this.

"Reactor wasn't properly routed." Bolt informed the group. "Two power lines were too close together. One of the most common flaws ya can do when you're starting out or repairing and one that will absolutely total the entire mech."

Several students were covering their noses and a few were trying to wave away the stench. It wasn't horrible, but it was very distinct. You never forgot the smell once you smelled it. It was very common in war.

"Now ya'll are thinking this won't come up? Sims will catch it, but more often than not this problem comes up when the armor is settled in on the mech. The innards shift a little with movement and impact. It's probably the biggest rookie mistake you can make." Bolt explained. "I learned how to make masterworks because I learned the basics again and again. Like the Big Book, I've seen what stupid people did and took that into account. A masterwork mech only comes when you focus hard on making the most perfect mech possible, and ya can only do that by knowing mechs inside and out."

Really, the kids were probably too tired for this. Bolt sighed and ushered them out. He didn't consider this the best lesson he could give, but hopefully they'd learn something from it.

Behind him, the devices meant to sabotage the mech sparked a bit more from the power surge. Bolt had noticed a few of them, but hadn't guessed what they'd meant to do. He'd assumed it was the students beings stupid and leaving things in the mech rather than them being paid to drop something 'innocent' in particular areas. To be fair, a few had genuinely lost things in the mech. There were a few pens and other things in various parts. None of it mattered though, because the mech was going to be scrapped shortly. Also some of them had hinged on the mech being fully operational. As a matter of habit Bolt made sure any mech he was built had the bare minimum for a startup and nothing less for the first ignition.

 

[lost star]

A few days after the guest lesson, Bolt was back at the university. This time it was for a simple designer debate. These weren't really public things. There was no real audience for it, and most non-designers found them boring. Even designers didn't really enjoy listening to them frequently. If the designers were prominent it was interesting, but outside of that it was really just a debate about technical specifications and such. The spectacle debates were on mech reveals, and those could be verbal sword fights that sometimes devolved into literal fights.

"There's no specific format for these things." The professor said as they entered the debate hall. "Really, the only thing that's important is that you refrain from insults and don't talk over one another."

Bolt nodded slowly. "Can't say I'm one fer insults."

"Oh that's more a general warning. There's nothing so bad as debates between academics. I've seen two fifty year old tenured professors get into fist fights over a single word." The man heaved a sigh that spoke of long nights, unprofessional debates, and old men acting like they were in their teens. "But enough about my issues. You've been nothing but polite so far so I'm glad you could make it."

At the podium another designer was already there. Between them was a picture of the mech Bolt had whipped up. The young man felt a bit of surprise at it.

"We believed that this would be the best topic for today." The designer at the podium said. "This isn't going to be about the design itself. We all know it was deliberately flawed and no one would consider it a demonstration..." The man trailed off as something seemed to occur to him. "Let me rephrase that. It takes skill to make something that people can learn from. So we as a whole actually appreciate it. The debate would be about the teaching tool."

"All right." Bolt stepped forward carefully and up to where he guessed he should be.

There was a small audience of fellow teachers there, with one or two high level students. Bolt had no context for if this was good or bad, but it didn't feel mocking. Really it felt more like this was a sleepy afternoon and there was some mild interest in entertainment. If he was going to be honest he didn't hate it.

"I'll go ahead and start off. My name is Jayce, I specialize in aquatic mechs and am a Journeyman." The man began calmly. "About a quarter of the mechs on this planet are mine, which sounds impressive until you realize they aren't anywhere else."

"All right. I'm Bolt, my specialty is a bit o' a mouthful, but can be best described as Recycling and Refining things." Bolt explained with an easy grin.

"That is an interesting field." Jayce muttered before shaking his head. "Hah, we'd have to talk about it in another time. Right now, the topic is the use of flawed and simple mechs as a teaching tool."

Bolt nodded in turn. "My first question is why ain't you doing it already?"

"Many reasons. One of them is we do usually stick to mech blueprints that students go over. They're mostly proprietary so you wouldn't see them." The Journeyman said with a small chuckle. "Ah, I should have added that I'm one of the teachers here. I do three advanced classes a week."

"Ah. No mech building though? That feels like an oversight." Bolt answered back.

"Budgeting concerns hinder a lot of the lessons we could teach." Jayce confirmed with a small sigh. "Even doing just one mech a year would be costly, and doing more than that would be impossible on our funds."

"That's what I assume would be Second Rate mechs though." Bolt pointed out. "You could do a stripped Third Rate mech easily."

"Yes, but would the students learn anything from that?" The other designer asked.

"They would." Bolt responded before pausing and grimacing. "Honesty has me saying that I'm not sure that they'd learn a lot really. Doing what I did took a lotta time and I ended up doing a lotta the work."

"Doing it in a single session and a large group like that was your problem." Jayce observed. "We have labs and assignments that can be spread out over a few weeks. The space concerns would be a larger issue at that point."

"Which would still run into the cost." Bolt concluded. "Not sure budget wise. I think Third Rate mechs should be in your budget."

"Again, we do live in a Second Rate economy here but we're a college, not a nation." The other designer reminded with a dry tone.

"Basics are basic. I'd expect you to teach kinds how to make a mech that walks first. Then you can do fancy stuff." Bolt responded with a hand wave. "Biggest thing is really the reactor. Second Rate needs different handling."

"Yes, your little trick has half our students double checking all the wires. I appreciate the attention to detail, but we had to have a specific lesson on that." Jayce said with a half grin.

Bolt gave a laugh of his own. "Don't tell me you haven't done that yourself."

"No comment." The designer replied with an amused shake of his head. "But back on topic, assuming that we surmount the numerous issues. Is it worth it teaching a mech designer by having them assemble simplified Third Rate mechs?"

For a moment Bolt wanted to say that was how he learned. It was a bad answer. Bolt knew he was different than most people. This wasn't a point of pride. It was a simple fact. Even if he wasn't smart, everyone was different and learned differently. He took a few moments to formulate an answer. Jayce let him, waiting patiently.

Eventually he had a good reason and words for it. "I think that ultimately the basics of how ta assemble a mech and do it with a minimum of automation is going to be important. All my masterworks were done by hand, and looking it up, the designers who do it consistently also do it personally. Some use more tech than others, but all of em devote their personal attention to it. If you aren't giving students a chance to be the best, then why teach them in the first place? Do you want office workers or designers that could become masters?"

"That is a good reason. Pity reality gets in the way. Students will frequently have to go into companies where taking the time to assemble a single mech that will be very flawed is a waste. We are very thorough about teaching them how to use fabricators and how to assemble mechs with standard tools. I'd argue that manual assembly is going away. Masterworks are exceptional. A hundred mechs made from automation is better." Jayce pointed out.

Bolt shrugged. "Could do both. Ain't like a factory stops because a mech designer is doing a personal project."

"Time management concerns hinder that, but I take your point." Jayce waved a hand. "Truthfully I would love teaching students more, not less. If we could have them make a baby mech I'd be first in line to approve it. We do come back to cost. Even doing Third Rate mechs would add up a lot."

Bolt nodded slowly before tapping at the podium. Fancy ones like this had a whole lot of tech they were connected to. One of them was a designer. With a few flicks he brought up some materials. Then he created a mech. Total time, about five minutes. It showed. The mech was absurdly simple.

"Just an idea." Bolt said. "These materials all recycle real well." He noted.

Jayce stared for a beat before shaking himself and staring at the design. "I'm afraid I'm missing the point."

"Basically, this is a mech made outta one hundred percent recyclable materials." Bolt explained. "Have kids make em outta all of these materials, and throw it back in the recycling. Total cost would be mostly in power. You'd lose about say five percent of the material each cycle I think?"

"Probably more like ten to fifteen depending on various factors." Jayce said after doing a few mental calculations.

There was always a loss somewhere when you recycled. Some of it was just because the material was just gone, but a lot of it was contamination and the fact that remaking could reduce some quality. It was just a fact of reality.

"Think it'd work?" Bolt asked.

Jayce considered it for a long moment before sighing and wiggling a hand. "It'd be good for an end of year project I think. We would have to specifically note that it's not good for mech design in general and be certain that it doesn't introduce bad habits. Using materials like that would require some specialized manufacturing and designing methods that wouldn't translate well."

"Ah." Bolt breathed out. "Yeah actually." He noted with a wince. "Kinda forgot that students can learn lessons ya don't want too."

"That's something that comes with time. I'd say that there's a good seed of an idea here, but it'd require some delicacy to implement."

Bolt nodded in agreement. "It'd have ta be paired with one or two other lessons, but I think its a sound idea." He added a few flaws. "Have em make this and identify the problem?"

"Do try to make flaws a non-journeyman would notice." Jayce said dryly and added one of his own.

The young designer stared at it. "I woulda figured out that one when I was ten." He observed, with only a little exaggeration.

Jayce stifled a chuckle. "You underestimate how stupid some new students can get."

Bolt chuckled, and that seemed to end the debate. He shook hands with the other man once they cleaned up and then got drawn into a few conversations about his work and other things. Most of it was pretty casual and just the designer version of light talk. Things about various simple decisions and brainstorming what could and wouldn't work.

He did get a job offer too. It seemed rather generous based off his rather poor understanding of things. Something like full tenure (Whatever that meant) and a high salary. That was nice, but not really his thing at all.