I058
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lost star
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One of the things that tripped a lot of people up was how easy or hard something was to accomplish. This sounded very silly, but it was a truth that far too many people got tripped up in. Take the following line: Pick up the package from engineering and bring it to the bridge. That sounded easy. It could become harder in implementation quickly. If the package was carriable it'd take ten to fifteen minutes on the ship, assuming you had someone available. If the package required a forklift it could take up to an hour or more and would block traffic. That was the essence of what made logistics simple on the surface and monstrously difficult in reality.
Construction was similar. There were mechs out there that were notorious hanger queens. One of them was outright famous in Ves Larkinson's work with Third Rate mechs. It was frequently described as a cup of overpacked noodles and required something on the order of twice as much work to repair as other mechs. Bolt usually avoided a lot of that in his creations. The Wounded Angel was probably the worst of his designs to make and maintain, and that was because the wing was fiddly. This was of course ignoring expert mechs. Those were a special sort of hell to work with and Wrench Rats had started developing specialized teams to maintain and handle them.
Recruitment was another thing that sounded easy on paper. In practice it typically took roughly six months to a year for a new recruit to get a handle on things after you did the required background investigation. If these recruits were good and the job easy, they could contribute immediately, but that contribution was highly variable. It simply took time for people to fit in and adapt.
"All right, new mech from the big boy just came in and we need at least a dozen immediately!" The foreman shouted out and glanced over the group he'd gathered for this. It was a mix of new recruits and old hands.
"What's with the blank signs?" One of the men asked incredulously.
"Can't read freshie?" A Wrench Rat asked back.
"You looking to fight?!" The man shouted and shook a fist.
That sort of thing usually smoothed itself out over time, but it was probably best to address it now. "Oldies, get prepping. Freshies over here." The foreman ordered and glanced at them all as they gathered.
It wasn't a really cohesive mix. Most of them were from shattered Friday units, but they'd all come from everywhere and had been attached to separate units. This meant they all had different attitudes and ways of doing things.
"Gonna start with this." The foreman pulled a few squishy and colorful toys in the shape of large bolts out of his toolbox. He then threw it at the people, nailing several of them in the head. "This is yer daily percussive maintenance."
"What?" "Hey!"
"Got yer attention?" The man asked as he activated a small callback button and had the toys return to the box. "Wrench Rats do things ya don't expect, but at our core we make mechs. And if ya think yer better at some of it, ya bring it ta me and we'll see if it is better. The signs are alerts and lessons we've learned. If you see someone do something stupid or think o' something that'll help ya write it on the sign."
"Got it sir!"
Military training produced that sort of response more than anything else. The foreman sighed quietly before he continued. "Now, we do things in a block, which means everyone works on the entire mech in a construction bay. Armies and factories do em in lines. That's fine if ya'll want a good thousand of middling quality. We ain't tolerating middling. As part of that, towards the end you'll hear some music. That's ta get you into the proper mindset."
There was no response but the man knew for a fact that they were confused. In any other shop the leader would just leave it there and not explain it, but these newbies needed to actually understand for it to work. If they didn't the end result was a pain in the ass to align right.
"Ya'll know the glows right?" The Wrench Rat leader asked as he tried to lead them to the correct conclusion. "Ya ever guess why the Son of War needed ta be decorated?"
"Thought it was some designer bullshit personally." One man called. "Got a few classes before I got called up and some designers can do wonders."
"Designer education? If ya got enough we can switch you over to one real quick." The foreman immediately asked back.
His request got a wince. "I got introductory classes only." The man admitted. "And didn't do well. If I had I wouldn't have been drafted like I had been."
"Don't care about grades. If you're willing ta try we're willing to let ya. It's literally just Bolt holding up the sky at the moment. He's good, but he ain't a god yet." The foreman said with a chuckle before continuing. "But yer right that it is designer bullshit. It's also designer bullshit we can measure and effect. It's a sorta mental component. Ya'll know how Hexxer production lines have fanatics on their best factories? That helps make potent Glows. We don't want nor need that. Just need ya to get in the mood a bit. Music works pretty well."
The explanation didn't seem to be taking, but the foreman didn't let that get to him. He instead directed everyone to start the construction of the new mech. That at least was fairly easy to get started.
Valefar had some fairly clean construction lines. That'd always been a minor strength of Bolt's designs once you ironed out the steps in the first run, but this one felt even better than the others. The way it was designed was almost tailor made to help their typical style. It was almost hypnotizing really.
"Ah hell." The foreman muttered as he realized something. "Everyone back." He called out. "We got a charmer!"
"Charmer?" Someone asked before another of the older Rats cheered out. "Hell yeah! Praise God, Buddah, and the Old Kings!"
"Yeah, yeah, get it outta yer system." The man muttered with a sigh at the small celebration.
"Could someone fuckin' tell us what a charmer is?" That was one of the newer Rats rather than the confused new recruits.
"Ahem. Old tech lingo. Designers don't think we know about it." An older Rat explained as he backed away from the still finished mech. "Bigger and badder mechs make ya think they're the biggest and baddest. Everyone away. Don't look at the blueprint or the parts too hard. We're gonna have ta give it Rat Special."
"Fer the newbies, there are mechs so good that yer charmed into thinking they're the best. They aren't, but you'll think that way if ya let yourself get too deep into it." The foreman explained. "It's a good thing that our home-grown miracle boy can do it, but we gotta do the next part now fer all the new guys."
While the explanation was happening a few of the older rats had procured some very large wrenches. They moved up to the unbuilt mech and began to hammer at it with them. There was no pattern to the hammering really. Just a few smacks here and there to make the parts less than prestine.
"All right, everyone take a look." The leader ordered. "No I'm not kidding. Take a look and grab a part. We're recycling this run."
Utterly mystified, everyone did as ordered. It felt very silly on the surface. It wasn't. The 'charm' effect was an old thing known to many veteran fabricators. The best ways of countering it were with line-style assembly. The second best way was simple experience. Once you've assembled a thousand different mechs of various types, a real good one didn't feel that impressive anymore. The third best way was what they'd just done. Wreck one of them and recycle it.
Someone more educated in spiritual matters would have identified these methods as something like the following: Limiting the exposure, building resistance, and denying the concept with another one. It was one of those lingering bits of wisdom hidden in professions most people dismissed.
After that run the foreman had everyone get back to work. The first Valefar formed relatively quickly. It was in fact one of the fastest and easiest assemblies the team had done. Even the fancy hidden special sauce settled in quite well.
That didn't mean that the people who made the mech were spectacularly happy about it. The mech looked dangerous. The red highlights, sharp horns, and slightly spiked armor made it look like deadly. The presence was even worse. Everyone had to acknowledge that this mech was a monster. It didn't feel like a very safe weapon really.
Naturally the pilots who wanted swordsmen absolutely adored it.
Construction was similar. There were mechs out there that were notorious hanger queens. One of them was outright famous in Ves Larkinson's work with Third Rate mechs. It was frequently described as a cup of overpacked noodles and required something on the order of twice as much work to repair as other mechs. Bolt usually avoided a lot of that in his creations. The Wounded Angel was probably the worst of his designs to make and maintain, and that was because the wing was fiddly. This was of course ignoring expert mechs. Those were a special sort of hell to work with and Wrench Rats had started developing specialized teams to maintain and handle them.
Recruitment was another thing that sounded easy on paper. In practice it typically took roughly six months to a year for a new recruit to get a handle on things after you did the required background investigation. If these recruits were good and the job easy, they could contribute immediately, but that contribution was highly variable. It simply took time for people to fit in and adapt.
"All right, new mech from the big boy just came in and we need at least a dozen immediately!" The foreman shouted out and glanced over the group he'd gathered for this. It was a mix of new recruits and old hands.
"What's with the blank signs?" One of the men asked incredulously.
"Can't read freshie?" A Wrench Rat asked back.
"You looking to fight?!" The man shouted and shook a fist.
That sort of thing usually smoothed itself out over time, but it was probably best to address it now. "Oldies, get prepping. Freshies over here." The foreman ordered and glanced at them all as they gathered.
It wasn't a really cohesive mix. Most of them were from shattered Friday units, but they'd all come from everywhere and had been attached to separate units. This meant they all had different attitudes and ways of doing things.
"Gonna start with this." The foreman pulled a few squishy and colorful toys in the shape of large bolts out of his toolbox. He then threw it at the people, nailing several of them in the head. "This is yer daily percussive maintenance."
"What?" "Hey!"
"Got yer attention?" The man asked as he activated a small callback button and had the toys return to the box. "Wrench Rats do things ya don't expect, but at our core we make mechs. And if ya think yer better at some of it, ya bring it ta me and we'll see if it is better. The signs are alerts and lessons we've learned. If you see someone do something stupid or think o' something that'll help ya write it on the sign."
"Got it sir!"
Military training produced that sort of response more than anything else. The foreman sighed quietly before he continued. "Now, we do things in a block, which means everyone works on the entire mech in a construction bay. Armies and factories do em in lines. That's fine if ya'll want a good thousand of middling quality. We ain't tolerating middling. As part of that, towards the end you'll hear some music. That's ta get you into the proper mindset."
There was no response but the man knew for a fact that they were confused. In any other shop the leader would just leave it there and not explain it, but these newbies needed to actually understand for it to work. If they didn't the end result was a pain in the ass to align right.
"Ya'll know the glows right?" The Wrench Rat leader asked as he tried to lead them to the correct conclusion. "Ya ever guess why the Son of War needed ta be decorated?"
"Thought it was some designer bullshit personally." One man called. "Got a few classes before I got called up and some designers can do wonders."
"Designer education? If ya got enough we can switch you over to one real quick." The foreman immediately asked back.
His request got a wince. "I got introductory classes only." The man admitted. "And didn't do well. If I had I wouldn't have been drafted like I had been."
"Don't care about grades. If you're willing ta try we're willing to let ya. It's literally just Bolt holding up the sky at the moment. He's good, but he ain't a god yet." The foreman said with a chuckle before continuing. "But yer right that it is designer bullshit. It's also designer bullshit we can measure and effect. It's a sorta mental component. Ya'll know how Hexxer production lines have fanatics on their best factories? That helps make potent Glows. We don't want nor need that. Just need ya to get in the mood a bit. Music works pretty well."
The explanation didn't seem to be taking, but the foreman didn't let that get to him. He instead directed everyone to start the construction of the new mech. That at least was fairly easy to get started.
Valefar had some fairly clean construction lines. That'd always been a minor strength of Bolt's designs once you ironed out the steps in the first run, but this one felt even better than the others. The way it was designed was almost tailor made to help their typical style. It was almost hypnotizing really.
"Ah hell." The foreman muttered as he realized something. "Everyone back." He called out. "We got a charmer!"
"Charmer?" Someone asked before another of the older Rats cheered out. "Hell yeah! Praise God, Buddah, and the Old Kings!"
"Yeah, yeah, get it outta yer system." The man muttered with a sigh at the small celebration.
"Could someone fuckin' tell us what a charmer is?" That was one of the newer Rats rather than the confused new recruits.
"Ahem. Old tech lingo. Designers don't think we know about it." An older Rat explained as he backed away from the still finished mech. "Bigger and badder mechs make ya think they're the biggest and baddest. Everyone away. Don't look at the blueprint or the parts too hard. We're gonna have ta give it Rat Special."
"Fer the newbies, there are mechs so good that yer charmed into thinking they're the best. They aren't, but you'll think that way if ya let yourself get too deep into it." The foreman explained. "It's a good thing that our home-grown miracle boy can do it, but we gotta do the next part now fer all the new guys."
While the explanation was happening a few of the older rats had procured some very large wrenches. They moved up to the unbuilt mech and began to hammer at it with them. There was no pattern to the hammering really. Just a few smacks here and there to make the parts less than prestine.
"All right, everyone take a look." The leader ordered. "No I'm not kidding. Take a look and grab a part. We're recycling this run."
Utterly mystified, everyone did as ordered. It felt very silly on the surface. It wasn't. The 'charm' effect was an old thing known to many veteran fabricators. The best ways of countering it were with line-style assembly. The second best way was simple experience. Once you've assembled a thousand different mechs of various types, a real good one didn't feel that impressive anymore. The third best way was what they'd just done. Wreck one of them and recycle it.
Someone more educated in spiritual matters would have identified these methods as something like the following: Limiting the exposure, building resistance, and denying the concept with another one. It was one of those lingering bits of wisdom hidden in professions most people dismissed.
After that run the foreman had everyone get back to work. The first Valefar formed relatively quickly. It was in fact one of the fastest and easiest assemblies the team had done. Even the fancy hidden special sauce settled in quite well.
That didn't mean that the people who made the mech were spectacularly happy about it. The mech looked dangerous. The red highlights, sharp horns, and slightly spiked armor made it look like deadly. The presence was even worse. Everyone had to acknowledge that this mech was a monster. It didn't feel like a very safe weapon really.
Naturally the pilots who wanted swordsmen absolutely adored it.
