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What's Junk? (The Mech Touch)

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M200 New
"So, evaluations." Bolt began after the twelve-hour mark hit. "Do we wish to go over them now?"

"Perhaps if you would clarify the expectations for those less technically inclined." The Vermeer representative gave his input.

"Fair." The designer gave a nod and settled back in his seat while also bringing up a few screens. "The goal of the first round is to create a mech that can walk, or essentially cross a finishing line. This is on paper a very simple process. There are automated programs that are used for mech testing that we can use. It doesn't risk a pilot on possibly dangerous wrecks and is also rather neutral as a judge."

On one of the screens a mech began to walk across as field and over a finishing line. It was as he said a very simple process. It was also deceptive.

"Now, based off statistics, a graduate should be able to design a mech capable of this task in about an hour." Bolt continued. "Assuming they know how to make a mech, they should be able to design and construct a mech capable of walking and combat in roughly six hours give or take. This is the bare minimum a graduate is expected to be able to achieve. On average about twenty-five percent graduates are completely incapable of doing that."

"So many?" One of the representatives asked. "Is the education that bad?"

Bolt wiggled a hand. "The standard focus is typically for office work not construction to my understanding. Any graduate is capable of sitting on a chair and doing math and double-checking stuff. To the best of my knowledge about half of all graduates end up being data analysists and never design a mech at all. If we go by mech terms, it's the equivalent of your average soldier. You need them, but they're not remarkable and rather interchangable."

The Konsu representative gave a small laugh. "I will not say that the average soldier is bad, but when put in that terms I understand. Many soldiers are simple men that do their duty honorably, but will never be remembered because that duty was boring."

"A career designing is a gamble really." The Carnegie man gave his input. "I've seen the numbers of successful to non-successful. You'll never be poor, but most aren't famous."

"Moving on. I wouldn't call anyone who participated a poor student. This is just very much outside their normal day-to-day operations." Bolt continued. "While your average designer can design a mech in an hour. Repairing a mech is not in a standard education. Even just evaluating the damage... I'd say it'd take ten to thirty minutes based off tools for a single mech. Making a mech out of salvage? If you have all the parts, it's thirty minutes or so. Many designing contests do the equivalent. They offer a series of pre-made parts and tell people to assemble them. It makes things faster." The man brought up a few contest reels from other areas.

"But this isn't that." Someone said.

The senior nodded with a grin. "Ain't even close to that. This is people scrounging up parts from a fake battlefield. They're ripped, torn, dirty, and they're not in a handy catalog. The contestant has ta judge everything on site, and then judge if they have enough to build a mech. After all of that they gotta tidy up the parts and then put them together. That's the challenge. You could do it in an hour in an office. In the field we have? I'd expect about half o' them to fail once times up."

Everyone turned to the contestants still working on things. Most people had treated the halfway point as the time to find a good spot to create their junk mech. Several were still searching though, and a few people were obviously looking for a target. Everyone had also been working for twelve hours in a high stress environment. They were getting tired, even with stimulants and modified bodies. The tension was growing rather than decreasing.

"How long would it take you?" The Vanguard representative asked.

"When I first started? About a week, but that was what, when I was twelve I think?" Bolt mused outloud. "Would have ta ask my pa. That time was kinda bad, had a war going on and we were scrounging across a few battles. Nearly got stomped once or twice and we were really low on food. In circumstances like this, probably six to twelve hours depending on travel time and what I found."

A few seconds of silence passed before the man realized that something about the words had disturbed people. The Senior blinked and then shrugged it off before switching through the feeds and bringing up the leads. No point in dithering or wondering about all of this.

"So, evaluations. Forgive me for being quick. I'm going to be going through fifty of the top ones." Bolt gestured at the screens he'd brought up and began going down the list.

Truthfully, it was mostly a tedious list of what parts people had salvaged and if it was enough for a mech or if they needed to scavenge more. Aside from the possible cheaters at position nine and fifteen, most of the leading contestants had gotten enough parts by this point to create something functional. It remained to be seen if they could assemble them properly. That required a lot of judgement of both your own skills and the parts you had. True to his expectations about half of them were going to fail if they tried to assemble a mech immediately.

After he'd rattled off everything the representatives had a few questions, but none of them were anything unusual. Mostly technical clarification and questions on who would win. That question at least Bolt couldn't predict. Even the five standouts weren't necessarily going to continue to stand out after the first phase. They'd simply had the most consistent work.

The one he'd nicknamed Lucky was the only candidate truly finished. His mech was uninspired but functional, which meant now he just had to leave and get it tested, then he could sleep if he so decided. Everyone else would likely have to pull an all nighter. That included Bolt too.

Fortunately spending a night awake wasn't a hardship at all to Bolt. The representatives did leave shortly after he finished his evaluation though. The designer expected that they were relaying his evaluation and getting something from their own side. No one was going to have an early night today.

Left with just a few attendants who'd be watching their assigned people, Bolt flicked through the feeds and settled himself down to observe. He was going to have to take one of these people as a student after all. It'd be the height of rudeness if he ignored their style here.

Flyer was having a lot of trouble with her work. Third Rate mechs were not Second Rate ones, and getting a coherent flyer required serious sacrifices. She was persevering mostly through stubborn work and tears. Bolt really didn't blame her. The poor girl had been hit some really bad spills and was absolutely filthy. Repair wise, her work wasn't properly compensating for the Third Rate materials, but the mech would work well enough to pass if she didn't get hit with something unexpected. He respected her dedication to flight if nothing else.

Packrat had gathered up even more stuff past the deadline, and then bunkered down right next to a hill where he used some of the scrap to make a shelter and improvised workstation. That was actually pretty innovative in Bolt's opinion. A bit of a waste and it made him a target, but it also gave him a cleaner environment to work in. His repair job was... Well Bolt was fairly sure he was having a bad reaction to the meds he'd taken from the first aid kit in the truck. It'd work. He hoped the man remembered to document it.

Spite had gotten into another fight and then thrown the victim into an improvised prison. The young designer was obviously absolutely done with everything. His mech was a mess of weapons and armor that would walk and probably be able to shoot enough to level a small battlefield. Hopefully that anger was just because the man was dealing with a lot of tension, because Bolt would have to recommend anger management if he wasn't. Seriously some of the hammering strikes were more rage than skill. Also the walk part was about all it would be able to do mobility wise.

Dark Horse was pushing and still salvaging. He had a mostly assembled mech now and had been carefully tuning it after every time he picked up another part. The man's work was truthfully very amateurish. He was obviously learning on the fly, but he was also showing some decent improvement over time. It might have looked like he was still completely unfinished, but he was a good seventy-five or so percent done already. Due to the careful work he'd have a lot of options in the next phase.

All the candidates were likely brilliant in their own way. No one in this contest was there because they were a bad student. They'd been selected specifically because people believed Bolt would take them as a student. It was almost a pity he only had room for one. Only almost though. Bolt really didn't want to have an army of students. That felt like poor form really.
 
M201 New
Every contestant had a story to tell by the end of the 24 hours they had allotted. They'd probably be telling them for years. Bolt knew only a few of them. With over a hundred contestants his time was occupied mostly by trying to keep the stupid ones from dying, fielding questions, and doing some review of their work. He wasn't trying to be rude or dismissive. One simply couldn't be everywhere and spare attention to everyone. That said, he could at least talk.

"Hope you all at least learned something from this." Bolt said to the attending contestants. "Ya'll might not ever encounter work like this again, but you can say that you did it once, and you made it to the end of the hardest part." He flashed them a grin before sobering. "You have my respect if nothing else. About twenty-five percent of the people trying this failed."

The looks he got to his small speech weren't exactly what he'd call friendly. Most of them had some buried resentment under their officially polite masks. He didn't hold it against them. If anything he felt like it was a healthy sentiment.

"Now, take an hour to get cleaned up and treated. Everyone goes through a medical checkup. Consider this a small gift. While that's happening yer mechs will get setup with your standard automated movement programs. You all know that type. If they can make it down that field to the side they'll pass." Bolt made a shooing gesture. "Now get yer shower."

Heirs didn't do something as undignified as running. They did something very close. Bolt restrained a snicker and turned towards the field. It was very flat, with a starting line and an ending line. A healthy mech would laugh at this sort of thing. The mechs they were testing weren't healthy.

To make things both fair and highly documented, every mech was going to go through one at a time. Before that they'd all get a onceover and a tech installing the walking program. The hour timeframe should be just long enough to get it all arranged thanks to big teams and a lot of technology. Automation and being able to lift mechs quickly made it a pretty quick process.

Apparently, his techs were having a bit of fun with the tasks. They'd drawn up lists of problems for each mech and were racing to see who could do the installation the fastest. Bolt left them to it, with a small note. He couldn't personally comment on the mechs, but the techs could. Those that failed would get a list of the problems. It would be up to them to decide if that was an insult or a way to improve.

Regardless, Bolt set himself down and waited patiently for the contestants to return. One hour later everyone was back in the room and he nodded. "Now, ya'll got a number. You don't need to say what it is. We'll show the number on the display and put the mech on the field. It'll get three tries. If it fails, you failed. I expect about half of you all to fail." The numbers were there for their sanity mostly. If the person didn't react the other contestants would know.

With those grim words the first mech was brought onto the field. It was placed on its feet and it flopped down. It was pulled up by a few cranes and then promptly flopped again before twitching. The process repeated once more, and this time a leg jerked and the mech threw itself on its back.

Bolt didn't smile at it even if he wanted to. That was because it was a mech he'd 'built' for this. A sort of demo mech to intentionally fail. It was hopefully both a good demonstration and a way of buffering the last part of the contest.

As predicted, there were a lot of failures. To most people's credit, many of those that attended had semi-functional mechs. Several of the contestants had realized they didn't have anything functional and gracefully stepped out before this part. The failures were typically in the knees, hips, and balance. Walking was actually highly complicated after all, and a simple jam in a hip joint could brick the entire side.

Not everyone was graceful in their defeat. Bolt had to deal with half a dozen 'do you know who I am' variations, but that decreased after the losers realized how alike they sounded. It faded into resentful looks and quiet promises of retaliation which were completely toothless. Bolt had enough backing that the threats were more damaging to the people making them than to him.

Most notable was one mech that managed to crawl across the battlefield. It wasn't exactly graceful, but the designer had managed to make the top chassis well enough, and got it properly integrated enough for the automated systems to actually do that. This was actually impressive from a technical aspect. You needed a very well integrated system to trigger that particular section of the auto-transport program.

Flyer's mech also raised a few eyebrows. The now properly dressed and clean girl looked quite proud to see her mech outright boost across the field with a singular problem. (It couldn't stop.) Bolt approved even if the girl would have to do a lot of work to get the mech into something battle-ready.

He also approved of Spite and Dark Horse. Spite's mech took a solid minute to get across, but that was just because the program could barely handle the heavy frame correctly. Dark Horse's mech was actually very smooth for the time he'd worked on it and showed that the man had learned quickly on the job.

Bolt did get his estimation off though. About sixty percent of the contestants failed after all it was said and done. He was just thankful for the lack of explosions. The three mechs that had fried themselves non-withstanding, most of the mechs had avoided the most dangerous pitfalls that came from amateur construction. He'd had to disqualify three for cheating as well.

All told, Bolt considered the contest successful so far. After the walks were done Bolt had everyone gathered up again for the next phase. This was more conventional mech design.

"You probably don't need me ta say this, but I'll go over the next step anyway. It's going to be a standard single elimination tournament. My wife will be officiating it and will be picking the pilots after you finish the mechs. You have another 24 hours to do this." Bolt explained to the remaining people. "First place is me offering to take you as a student. You don't have to accept, and I will try my best to get ya something equivalent. Second place is a personal lesson from me or me reviewing one of yer mechs. Top three all get formal sponsorship. Now, you'll be directed to a bay with your mech. Good luck."

Each bay had a restricted Second Rate printer and a few power tools and machines. Enough to make it challenging to revise but not enough to make it too easy. Bolt was just about to get up and work before he was informed quietly that two of the trucks were no longer operational.

"Hah!" The designer gave a small laugh after checking things.

There hadn't been any rules about using the trucks for parts, mostly because there hadn't been any need. Truck parts weren't useful for mechs even accounting for the Second Rate and Third Rate disparity. The fuel and some select exotics though? Those could be repurposed if you were very, very careful and knew your science very well.

"I'll allow it. Don't tell me who's truck it was though." Bolt told the attendent.

It was a fun mystery.
 
M202 New
The contest wasn't kind. Nothing that forced a designer to stay up for 48 hours could be considered kind. It was fair. It would also hopefully show Bolt what he needed. He was not going to take a student without getting a hint of what they were like past the mask and the polite veneer of society. Sleep deprivation and hardship had a tendency to at least show where a person's limits were if nothing else. It didn't show everything, but that was expected. Bolt really just wanted a clue.

With all of that said, Bolt also wasn't going to do another 24 hour shift. Once the initial sorting was done he did some minor paperwork and made sure that the contestants were settling in and there were no issues, then he took a nap. He could stay up a lot longer if he needed, but watching a bunch of young students dither about repairs would either put him to sleep or piss him off. Neither would be conductive, so sleep and get his mind cleared out.

Once he was fully refreshed the Senior designer made his way back to the foyer with the representatives. Everything was as expected there. A lot of screens were up and displaying the various candidates. Bolt was pretty certain that none of the officials here really understood what they were seeing. The view of their charges doing work was more than enough for them.

"Hmm." Bolt let out as he looked over things. "Candidate fifty-one needs to be checked for communication devices. That's not his work." Really blatant too. "That's actually close to being genuinely insulting. Did the person aiding him not think I'd notice that?"

To his mild surprise his statement resulted in some actual speed. The candidate was grabbed, stripped within seconds to find the communicator, and unceremoniously thrown on a ship out within minutes. In retrospect it wasn't surprising. There was cheating and then there was insultingly cheating. That sort of thing resulted in feuds. He was fairly sure all designers would be extremely displeased with that sort of cheating.

Fortunately that was the only instance of blatant rulebreaking. The rest of it was just recently graduated students actually showing their strengths. It was mildly entertaining and boring in equal measure. These weren't really veteran designers. They were young adults doing their first real job, and it showed.

There were basically two 'types' of contestants. The ones that dithered, and the ones that were so self assured they thought they weren't making mistakes. Both were bad in their own ways. These were again novices though. They were going to make mistakes no matter what. The only thing that would be different was where they'd make mistakes.

Case in point. "Why is there a shutdown order?!" One of the representatives shouted as their candidate was pulled out of the bay.

Bolt flicked to the reports from that area. "Improper chemical handling. They spilled something toxic. No disqualification, but they can't use the bay until it's clean. Be thankful there's not more of a penalty." The designer said. That sort of thing could become lethal fast, and it was not a fun way to die.

The words quieted down the man and Bolt switched back to monitoring people once it became apparent there wasn't an actual issue. With the cut to the participants they had a rather manageable spread of people to monitor. It helped a lot that there wasn't that much to keep an eye on now. There were only so many ways you could take apart and put together an already built mech. Physics had its say after all.

Bolt was more interested in their decision making rather than their work really. How a designer thought was more relevant to him than their work at this stage. He could teach them to do their job better. Changing what they were thinking was harder.

Here was where the clever parts of the exam came into play hopefully. Everyone had made their own decisions in salvaging a few wrecks. The tools in the bays were a mix of Second and Third tools. The mechs could be upgraded to something like peak Third Rate with them, assuming you had the proper judgement. Bolt did not expect anything like that, but the option was there. None of the contestants had the skill or knowledge to really upgrade the mechs to the peak of what they could be. They'd at best get something functional with a hint of their interest, hopefully.

Midway through the day Bolt had to amend his inner evaluation. Most of the people involved were struggling. They were focusing too much on the wrong things. Either trying to repair the mech too much or trying to make it 'clean' for a lack of a better term. These were weapons of war. They had inbuilt tolerances! The armor didn't need to be seamless, it just needed to be tight! You didn't need to hose off everything!

Every single candidate would have been considered a failure in the eyes of his Wrench Rats. A wreck like what these candidates had wasn't worth tidying up. You made it functional and accepted that it would be an ugly son of a bitch. Then you slapped the appropriate weapons on it.

Bolt was half convinced he'd explained something wrong before he finally figured out what was going on. These were graduates insulated from wartime conditions. They'd at most had a few contests and all of them likely involved other conditions. They didn't know how to ration time properly, work with Third Rate mechs, or deal with real battle damage. They were therefore defaulting to fix and inspect everything.

The man was rather thankful that they were competing against one another after he realized that. This way it was still pretty fair. It wasn't like the mechs were identical either. There were hints of brilliance in each one. There were also classic signs of people who'd worked with Second Rate mechs. They'd tried to cram too much inside them all.

"Any standouts?" One of the representatives asked mostly just to make conversation.

"In this case?" Bolt glanced over all the feeds. "About one." He said.

"Just one?" The conversation drew attention from everyone at this point.

"Mostly because he's the only one focusing on a style suited for Third Rate mechs." Bolt brought up the feed. "Everyone else is really just following along with what they salvaged and is doing the classic problem of trying to do too many things." The man shrugged. "I'm gonna be honest, I'm half convinced it's because the man's being lazy."

The representative who was responsible for the contestant looked at the feed and Bolt could see the life slowly drop from his eyes. He took a deep exhale and then deliberately turned away from the screens. The designer stared at him and then the feed. He then clicked it off the main screen feeling a bit awkward.

Everyone in the room seemed to be finding the walls very interesting at the moment. Bolt really didn't want to know the story, but he could read the atmosphere and turned back to keeping an eye on everyone. So far things were shaping up. This part really couldn't be failed if you were educated.

"I'll say that we'll get more of a show when the pilots are set in the mechs. No one's doing anything really bad. At worst they'll be very boring mechs, which is still a success." Bolt continued as he he tried to dispel the awkward air. "Design wise, we have a flying mech, a near heavy weapon's platform style mech, a light skirmisher, a rather solid looking hero mech, and a well mech that stand out as slightly above the rest at this time."

"Well mech?" Someone asked.

"I'm quite sure the designer was on mind-altering meds while he was putting the initial mech together and now he's trying to make it work." Bolt brought up the contestant. He was pretty sure people couldn't tell how strange the mech was off hand. "If he manages to get it to work it'll be one of the leads."

"Why are there wires outside the armor?!"

Bolt shrugged. "Decoration?"
 
I071 New
Iora Tagami of the Konsu Clan was notorious. He wanted to say it wasn't really his fault, but it was completely, intentionally, and totally his fault. He wasn't too proud to admit it. He was lazy. No, that was underselling it. He wasn't just lazy, he was notoriously lazy. When you looked up the definition of lazy his name was under it. His ideal life and future was a warm bed, breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, and death by overweight before he was eighty. He'd carefully cultivated that reputation all his life and was quietly proud of what he'd accomplished.

Unfortunately for him, everyone objected to his desires. For awhile he'd managed to maintain his dream. Carefully encouraging a reputation of absolute worthlessness hadn't been exactly easy but he'd managed. He'd spent good years of his life doing the absolute minimum as a result. He'd gotten very average grades, and graduated with a degree in the laziest job he could think of. Becoming a mech designer had been planned. He'd done some research and chosen the career with the intention of coasting on the power of nepotism. No Senior would take someone with average grades after all. He would just drift along on the bare minimum and fade into the background with a salaried position and absolutely no responsibilities.

Getting thrown into this contest was therefore his personal hell. He'd had no choice but to compete though. It was either put on a good showing or end up on the streets. Literally on the streets. His parents had picked out a street and put some sheets out just for him. (He wasn't joking. There was a street with sheets on it at right now.) If he failed he was going to get thrown on that sheet and getting cut off from all support.

So he'd struggled through the mud. He'd figured out how to work the accursed truck in the two hours he'd been given. He'd nearly broken a leg trying load mech parts onto it. He'd even managed to just barely get a mech working before the time had ended! Sure it was a piece of trash, but it was working!

By this point Iora had been up an entire day. For someone that loved sleeping twelve hours of day this was abhorrent. He could feel himself dying. Every second was an eternity! Yet he couldn't stop now. This was probably enough to keep off that street sheet, but he didn't want to chance it. His parents had been quite serious about their threats, and he was pretty sure a military academy was in his future if he did something stupid after passing the first round, so he had to at least put up a show of effort still.

That didn't mean he couldn't cut corners. The truck had a nice and powerfully reactive fuel that you could use for various chemical reactions in a pinch. Relevant to him, you could use a few drops to flush the various lines in a mech. It was a pretty expensive way of doing a cleaning, but it highlighted issues very fast. When combined with another pair of chemicals that would seal small cracks, you could do a flush, then repair, and flush within a minute. Again, this was expensive, but Iora didn't give a damn.

With the mech flushed and cleansed of micro-tears he was then able to do something with the junk parts that made up the entire mech. Truthfully Iora had no idea how to work with Third Rate mechs. He recalled them being simpler in many aspects, and the parts certainly lent itself to that, but he couldn't be assed to remember the exact details. Something about primitive stupidity or something like that. No point in really thinking about it. It was a mech. You used them to kill things. A pointy stick could still put holes in a person if they were in idiot. Third Rate mechs weren't pointy sticks, but the analogy was relevant enough.

So Iora basically just did the bare minimum. He got the parts properly aligned, repaired the armor, made sure all the joints moved right, and then added a gun to it. That necessitated making sure the mech could handle a gun, but that wasn't a problem. Really, why complicate it? He didn't need to win. He needed to do a good showing. He'd done enough damnit!

Once everything was set the young man made his way to the bay where he could technically observe the match and went to sleep. He'd done everything he could. Now for rest! He slept content that he'd done everything he could and he'd be back in his bed shortly after his loss and subsequent trip to his ship. His servants knew enough to do that.

Several minutes later he was shaken awake and back in his mech bay completely bewildered. His mech had won! How had it won?! It was shit. He knew it was shit. Hell the armor was barely intact and the rifle was a mess from the battle. How had it won?!

(The rifle had been enough to chip down the opponent once the match started. After it had run out of bullets the pilot had used the butt of it to club the opponent to death. This mostly worked because the mech was intact and had what amounted to a cohesive and unified design. It was litterally the only one with that status. Every other mech had too many parts and serious misalignment.)

Now he had more work! Repairing it was another bit of stupidity that he had to perform. Fortunately replacing armor was something he could do in his sleep. He might have gotten very average grades, but they'd been passing grades. You failed if you failed with armor. Replacing the rifle was easy as well. He'd gone with an easily made one and slapped it on. You could print another one out within minutes and it required no real adjustment. He even added more ammo just in case.

Which turned out to be a good idea, sort of. He ended up winning again, which meant more work and no sleep. By this point Iora was despairing. This wasn't a good thing! Too much success would make him look competent!!! All of his carefully laid plans for an early retirement were being ruined. What was worse, if he didn't keep doing what he was doing people would figure out he wasn't giving his all or something. He was trapped, so very trapped.

To his great distress this sort of winning streak ended up bringing him to the top six. Three more rounds. Sure someone would be able to beat him? At least he could sleep before his possible doom. They wanted everyone fresh for the last three rounds.

Unfortunately for Iora his family had heard of his victories by this point. He got a call right before bed praising him and assuring him that they'd find him the perfect mentor even if he lost. The news had been so distressing that he'd only managed 8 hours of sleep! The horror alone made him want to cry and hide in bed. His worthless reputation was completely ruined!
 
I072 New
Her life was over. Hina Selena of the Vermeer had prided herself on her detachment from earthly matters. Rising above it all was a small passion of hers. It had even tinted her interests as a designer. She'd spent her life working on flight mechanics. Her very childhood had been on the floating cities of her home planet. Drifting above the sands and through the wind, free of everything. She'd been the untouchable beauty desired by all. Sent here to prove the strength of her family and possibly grab hold of the opportunity offered. At a bare minimum her brilliance should have gotten some good marriage prospects from the other candidates that could further her career and family.

Instead, she'd slipped and fallen into the mud in the first hour of this accursed contest. She'd suffered a wardrobe malfunction in the second hour. The third hour had been oil from a rupturing fuel line. All of this on camera. She was now the dirt girl. That one recording would be spread far and wide no matter what her family would say. It was inevitable.

The only thing that had gone right was her mech, and that was just barely. Flight was hard in mechs. Every second in the air required fuel. Even Second Rate mechs required careful allocations of weight versus lift. You could only break physics so much. Third Rate mechs were worse. They were something like ninety percent flight systems and ten percent weapons. She'd ended up creating a flying bird and loading it with as many missiles as she could feasibly have it lift, and even then it was an ungainly, unsightly beast.

Her designs had never been as flawed as this salvaged heap of rusted metal. The fuel requirements gave it an anemic run-time. The missiles meant it had almost no endurance. In any other contest the design shouldn't have progressed past the first round. Yet here it'd managed to get into the top ten, then the top five.

"How is this possible?" She breathed out as she looked at the lineup.

"Ya'll all seem to be wondering that." The voice from behind her made her stiffen up and turn quickly.

The designer she'd been sent to possibly learn from, possibly charm, definitely make a good impression on was behind her. He was in the same room as her and the other contestants! Hina smoothed out her dress and straightened her stance and tried to ignore how she wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

"I figured I'd step in and look at the last contestants. We're down to ten, so ya'll are above the rest." Bolt drawled out as he surveyed them. "Do recall that you started at the same spot. If you think your mech's shit understand that the losers had shittier ones."

His words drew nothing but silence as the candidates stared at him. Hina could sympathize. There really wasn't much proper etiquette for situations like this. There were formal conversations designers could have, but Bolt wasn't following them. Everyone was a bit lost. And perhaps a bit resentful. (She still remembered the mud, and the recording. SHE'D HOLD IT AGAINST HIM FOREVER, ahem.)

"Considering everything, I'll let ya know a bit of my thoughts on this test. I don't do anything once, but this one is something fer you to consider. Most designers spend their life behind a design desk, and while that's fine for a career, you all want to be more. That means new experiences." Bolt switched his gaze to the arena. "Picture this. Four days ago there was a battle. Three days ago, you were tasked to bolster your forces with another mech. You have a printer but no feed stock. What do you do?"

Another beat of silence was his answer before Hina sighed internally and answered. "You salvage." She gave the most obvious answer.

"You salvage. Then you get the mech working enough to get back to your bay, and then you make it work." Bolt nodded to the arena. "Most o' you won't bother or be in the position when this is needed, but some might." He shrugged. "Got a friend that got in something like this working for a merch group in Second Rate territory. He's probably gonna be a senior in a year or two. That means he's a step up from most of the galaxy. Lotta masters became masters by doing the unusual. None of them spent their life behind a desk. Thinking you can be safe for the rest of your life in this field is a poison that will kill your advancement. Ya don't always have ta take risks, but you do have to take some." The man turned away and began to leave. "Now, I've probably made a bit of mistake giving ya free advice, so I'm gonna leave before the next rounds begin."

Hina watched him go with a complicated mix of feelings in her breast. She didn't quite agree with him, but it did make some sense. Spending every day designing sounded good for advancement, but it felt like a very easy way to get into a rut. What exactly did she want? It was a very good question and not one she could easily answer.

It also wasn't going to be answered now. There were ten people left. With single elimination that meant nine matches for first and second and a tenth for third. Her current opponent was Iora.

Hina paused as the brackets came up and glanced at the sleeping man. She felt her hands twitch. Iora was the one that slept at her coming-of-age ceremony. He'd stayed in bed during his grandfather's funeral. He'd been 'occupied' at his graduation party. How the hell was he here, and why was he taking up a slot?!

The start of the match had her attention snap back to the arena. Her flier wasn't particularly noteworthy. Just a bird with missiles. It took to the air anyway and she spared a moment of pride. Pride that dropped as the opposing mech began to shoot.

Of course he had a rifleman. One of the better counters to her mech. The only one worse would have been from that Gauger brat who had the wall of weapons. How he managed to reload that monstrosity was a serious question that she'd actually love to know the answer to.

Unfortunately Hina didn't know enough about mech fighting to tell if her pilot was better or worse. All she could see was the mech flying in the air and trying to avoid the rifle shots. It swooped and let loose a wave of missiles as it dodged, and more shots flew out to follow it. The battle became a contest of who could hit the most shots without taking damage. The missiles had the advantage, but not as much as she'd like. Third Rate missiles were horrible.

Eventually a hit managed to strike the bird's wing. The joint seized and the thing lost mobility. Credit to the pilot, he was able to land and even fire off a last volley of missiles. Several hit the dodging rifleman and breached its armor.

The two mechs approached one another and Hina closed her eyes reflexively before she forced them open. The two mechs clashed with stuttering movements from the damages. The rifle was dropped and a small holdout dagger was pulled out. The bird twitched and tried to use its beak.

It was a slow and sluggish battle, but also a rather inevitable one. Very slowly her bird was worn down, and Hina sighed as it dropped to the ground. She lost.

"Damnit!" Iora muttered.

Hina didn't even recall moving to strangle him. She just remembered being held back by her fellow heirs.
 
I073 New
It was considered a given that all heirs were very well trained and highly educated. When your family had enough money to purchase a planet a proper education was a necessity rather than a privilege. Educated didn't mean smart. Educated didn't mean competent. Herald Bjornson wanted to say he was both. He was aware enough that say that his judgement was probably suspect. He'd grown up in a bubble of praise and false challenge.

That was probably why the path of the designer appealed to him. A mech didn't care about your origin. It cared about how it was made. If you failed you had honest and instant feedback. You couldn't bribe a mech. The mech wouldn't give false feedback in fear of offense. Herald was bad at making mechs. He therefore loved trying anyway.

Really though, the entire contest had been a breath of fresh air. He'd gotten lost. He'd made mistakes. He'd even broken a bone for the first time in his life! He would rather avoid that experience from happening again, but he'd done it. (Ow.)

It was a surprise that his carefully made mech had advanced, but he'd rolled with it. Consideration, care, and thought had apparently put him above his peers. That was nice to know. His little spearman wasn't anything special. He'd tried to cram a set of rifles into the shoulders, but after the first match he'd had to remove them. They'd just been too finicky to maintain right and had compromised too much. He'd instead added a small handgun as a backup weapon and focused on countring. Altering the composition of the spear and tweaking a few things here and there to better fit his opponents was just good sense. Sure it made him work hard, but that was fine. Herald would say he was having fun if etiquette didn't make stating that impossible.

Perhaps he should join a mercenary company after this? Or maybe found one? He was a spare of a spare so the risk was perfectly fine, and the money was irrelevant truthfully. The Senior in charge of this match had raised good points about advancing, and he truly did want to advance. He wouldn't be a designer if he didn't want it after all.

Contemplations like that occupied him between matches. His current opponent was a man that had made the massive mech of metal and guns. It was quite the statement. The mech had managed to succeed through firepower and armor. It was also a mass of metal scars now. Each match had required more and more repairs, and the beast was just barely holding on by this point. That didn't detract from the threat though. It almost felt like it enhanced it really. You could tell this was a scarred monster.

Herald had adjusted the boosters for this fight, and added a small additional set around the hips to exploit the most obvious weakness. It'd still be a fight that could easily be over in aseconds. He was fairly sure that the armor could hold up for a little bit of the damage, but not what that thing could put out. It would be up to the pilot in the end. He'd done everything he could.

"I'm not familiar with your family." Herald said politely to the man who'd built the mech.

"Good for you. They're barely worth the time." The man said back with barely banked anger. "Might be worth more than your little trick though."

"Might be." Herald agreed with a nod. "I'm quite aware that my adjustment isn't much. It isn't like we had time."

"Tch." His opponent made a noise of frustration and turned back to the match.

Herald shrugged off the rudeness. If the other man wanted to try to needle him pointlessly more power too him. Herald would dearly love becoming an apprentice, but no one here would be harmed by a loss, including him. Some of them would even be able to progress even after a loss here. This had been one of the few times a contest had stakes that actually meant something to people with their resources and that had a way of causing you to think.

Back in the arena the match began with a bang as the larger mech fired off every weapon it had equipped. The accuracy left much to be desired really, but the mass of projectiles more than made up for the lack of precision. Rounds pinged off the spearmen's armor and chunks flew off as the protection did its job, barely. Even as that happened the mech moved as fast as it could, boosting hard with all the additional thrust it could get.

Ponderously the gun-mech turned to following the circling mech. Every step slammed down and it was steadily losing focus. One of the shotguns in it's hand had just the right angle to fire as the spearman circled though and the pilot judged that was the best shot it could get. The weapon fired off and more armor pinged off. One of the added boosters on the hips flew off like a rocket as something came lose and Herald winced.

"Should have fastened that better." He observed.

"There's a reason they're seated in the damned armor normally. The forces involved had it already stressed. Stupid." His opponent pointed out bluntly.

The addons had done their job though. The spearman was close now. The weapon leveled down and stabbed. Metal shrieked against metal and the spearman set his feet and pushed hard. The weapon dug deep before he ripped it out with another clang.

"Oh, it survived." Herald said with a content smile. "Quite nice." He hadn't been sure the spear was good enough really. He could not call himself a specialist in making spears.

The other designer made another noise of frustration.

What followed next was a lot of poking. Herald wanted to wax poetic about it, but it was really just poking. The pilot of his mech was good, there was no doubt there, but when you had to spin around an opponent and stab them with a spear there really weren't many good descriptions for the action. The mech was poked to death. It was stuck like a wild boar. It was stabbed. It was skewered. And Herald was out of descriptions he could think of in his head right then and there.

He was making it sound boring. It was actually interesting from a technical standpoint. The spearman had to maneuver just right to keep out of reach of the many weapons. It involved a lot of ducking and boosting as well as stabbing. The armor could only take so much, and it was very much on its last legs. It took about a minute before the damage was enough to drop the larger mech, and that concluded the match.

To Herald's complete lack of surprise his opponent stalked off immediately. The designer didn't bother to say anything to the departing man. He obviously had a lot of anger or something like that. It wasn't anything of Herald's business anyway. He needed to get ready for the finals. That was going to mean a lot of work!

It was him versus the sleeping man. He was quite looking forward to it even if his opponent wasn't taking it really seriously. He did hope that the poor man didn't get strangled before the end of it. More than a few people looked pretty close.
 
M203 New
Bolt found himself more entertained than he'd thought by the contest. Even if it was ultimately a diversion it had given him a fair amount to think on. Mostly on how to properly teach moving forward. His experience with Sami was not going to prepare him for the future. It was probably going to be an ongoing problem really, but it was also something that he could only fix through experience.

Right now he watched as the two mechs moved in. One mech belonged to the person he'd nicknamed Dark Horse. The other was to Lazy. A spearman versus a rifleman.

Both mechs had a very distinctly different approach despite the similar conclusion. The spearman was built careful precision and thought. Dark Horse, Herald Bjornson from the Carnegie faction actually didn't have a talent for mech design. There was a complete lack of deviation from conventional work. His work was enthusiastically boring, if that made any sense. Herald was well educated but ultimately lacked any sort of inspiration that would make him a prominent mech designer, which was probably why he was here. Rote practice and dedication had still allowed him to progress this far. That was commendable.

Lazy, Iora Tagami of the Konsu Clan had built a rifleman. The thing was streamlined and optimized for easy work. Iora was someone who wanted to do the least amount of work possible. Which meant all his decisions were built around that. Amusingly, it was something Bolt had done frequently himself. Iora did it to keep from working. Bolt did it because he knew for a fact that you never had enough time. As a designer, the man had a surprising knowledge of optimization for his level. Unfortunately if he become a student Bolt would have to break him of that habit. Lazy was fine, but not when it compromised work. He'd be a problem child no matter who tried to teach him.

Of the two, the Spearman was put together better, but the Rifleman was better repaired. Iora's work had allowed him to repair the mech to the utmost. This would have resulted in Iora being the clear leader, but the choice of rifle was evening things out. The rifle was easy to reload and design a mech around. It was not particularly notable for anything else. Herald's work might not have been inspired but the solid and careful construction meant it was able to take far more than one would expect.

The battle began rather simply. On a flat arena with minimal cover the beginning steps were quite obvious. The rifleman raised his weapon and fired, and the spearman charged. It was more energetic and skillful than it sounded. The melee weapon user could juke shots when they moved and the rifleman had to adjust his aim based on judgement more than inbuilt targetting.

Were this between humans without mechs, the rifleman would have a clear advantage. A body shot from a rifle was not something most people could shrug off. On a mech with armor, this was a bit different. The rifle in this case fired a three round burst that splashed off the armor and caused some of it to dent or crack depending on the angle on the hit. It did not cause critical damage. This was a sign of good skill on Herald's part. Properly designed armor was meant to buckle safely from impact if it couldn't deflect it right off. Enough hits should cause it to break off without damaging internals rather than fracturing and damaging the stuff. A proper pilot would roll the mech to maintain their armor as well. Which is what the spearman did.

As he approached the reason this was an equal battle became apparent. The rifleman had to backpedal. If he let the enemy get too close he was doomed. This wasn't easy. If the arena hadn't been flat and free of debris it would have been a lot more difficult actually. The rifleman boosted back and fired, but the rate of fire was less and he had to dodge the spear thrusts as he moved. The accuracy was far worse as well. It was shaping up to be a rather lengthy battle.

"Minor alert." Phillipe spoke over the security line and interrupted Bolt's thoughts. "Seeing signs of activity."

"Activity?" Bolt kept his voice low.

"Looks like a raid against the art gallery. No further information." The young man replied.

"Much as I don't care about that, an actual attack would look very bad." Bolt noted and then gave an order. "Squash it, capture secondary. We were waiting for something like this."

"On it."

Bolt turned his attention back to the battle. He wanted to help but, they'd planned for this and he would just get in the way. He was a mech designer, not a security expert. He focused on what he could do. Evaluating the battle.

It was reaching a crescendo. Both mechs were being worn down. The rifleman continued to backpedal and then the spearman managed to clip one of the boosters responsible for giving him the ability to maneuver. The strike forced the mech to slow down and then the spear was up and aimed for the chest.

The rifleman twisted and tried to get another set of shots off. They went into the spearman's shoulder and the arm twitched as something internal broke. Using one hand the spearman choked up on the spear and stabbed with his good hand. The blade went into the torso and there was a visible spark from the wound.

Safeties snapped into place and the mechs both went still. That was the match. Victory to the Spearman. Good match, if rather standard.

"So that would be Herald as the winner." Bolt mused and winced internally. They had to do a ceremony thing now. "How's the security?" He asked quietly.

"Running battle." Phillipe answered curtly.

Lovely. They couldn't see a sign of it here, but that was not good and it also meant they couldn't keep people here. Thankfully they'd planned for this somewhat. Bolt got out of his chair and clapped his hands together.

"So, congratulations are in order." The designer said to the representatives. "Let's go meet the winners."

First place was Herald. Second place Iora. Third place the man Bolt had nicknamed Spite. The contestants looked like they had mixed reactions. Iora looked like he was hating life. Herald looked vaguely pleased and more than a little mystified. Spite looked angry.

The ceremony itself wasn't particularly noteworthy. A bit of talking, a few speeches from both him and the representatives, and then arrangements. On Bolt's recommendation Herald would return home for about a month and get his affairs in order before they'd meet up again. It was the absolute bare minimum of courtesy Bolt could get away with. Intentionally so. He'd arranged for everyone to meet up very far away from where the running battle was, and if the security was any good no one would notice it. That still didn't mean he didn't want people out as fast as possible.

Unfortunately for nobles like this, that meant they'd stay for the entire day and a few days afterwards. It was utterly ridiculous, but not something Bolt could change. Lilly was already getting ready, and a few discrete back-channels were being informed. If they were lucky everyone would leave without incident.

No one expected luck.
 
M204 New
Lilly had slept in her cockpit while the contest was going on. This wasn't due to some need so much as intuition and paranoia. She'd expected some sort of problem at some point. Most of her people had, though on her orders they'd simply been at half readiness instead of full readiness. This was the first time in awhile that they'd been on an actual planet with functioning leisure infrastructure. Taking some time off for some sort of leisure activity was just good for morale.

Admittedly that brought another issue to the forefront. Team cohesion was a very serious matter that had to be frequently addressed by the Wrench Rats. They recruited a lot from not-quite-sane battlefield survivors after all. Disciplinary problems and other issues could and would pop up if people weren't on top of things. Teamwork exercises and parties helped mitigate a lot of that, assuming you didn't have to have people being alert all the time.

Hence Lilly sleeping in the cockpit. If she was available in a few seconds, a lot of her people could sleep safe. It wasn't a large hardship truthfully. Being tiny meant that most cockpits were actually pretty comfortable with just a bit of seat adjustment. It didn't beat a bed, but it wasn't like Lilly would wake up in pain or anything from a few nights.

It was still almost a relief when the problem occurred. It was an actual relief that they had forewarning for once. The Art Gallery had been one of like three possible targets. It was the least guarded and least valuable in her eyes. Letting it take damage was perfectly acceptable, and the explosions and running firefights were completely within their tolerances. Several mechs were deployed as backup and Lilly kept an ear open for the next hits.

To her mild irritation the next hits took their sweet time. The running battle kept on foot and moved through tunnels and placeoss where mechs couldn't get to. It was only after the attackers were cornered several hours later that the next shoe dropped. Though calling it just a shoe was underselling it.

A planet like this had a very robust series of organizations dedicated to security. This included a significant number of mechs for additional security. None of them were authorized to move while this was going on. Lilly and Phillipe had deliberately given an order to both reduce confusion and prevent backstabbing. Only their own forces could be deployed at the moment. When those orders were blatantly disobeyed her people had given them a single warning and began to intercept. The response to that had been mad, literally mad.

Riots spontaneously began to occur as the mechs engaged one another. Half the police mechs deployed to attack Lilly and her forces. The other half deployed to counterattack them. Battles began to flow without rhyme or reason. None of it made sense, because there were no real lines of communications. It wasn't just that half the locals were traitors. It was like everyone was without sense.

Then it got worse because it seemed to spread. Several security people who'd accompanied the nobles turned on their allies. People loyal for years on end attacked their fellows without a care or warning. The world was engulfed in chaos as sabotage became rampant.

Into this a series of ships came in from orbit suddenly and then dropped mechs from the sky. Blackened things, they had no identifying markings, nor any sort of known Friend or Foe tags. The traitors rallied around them as they landed, and the mechs began to massacre the civilians around them without warning or reason. Blood literally painted the streets and they began to move towards the nearest city.

Lilly deployed then. There was no other alternative if they wanted to avoid the city becoming a massacre. She took Typhoon. The mech was loaded into a massive truck designed to ferry mechs and brought a quarter of the way across the world. Once it was close enough the mech was dropped along with her fellows. Naoto was left behind, guarding Bolt and the nobles, where there was already conflicts. She had a small detachment in comparison. Most notable was the singular Einherjar Berserker, piloted by a man that had heavily favored the Bloody Berserker.

He led as battle began. With a thunderclap the mech blurred as it activated it's shifter. A streak of color followed his path as the mech bent space and time to appear in front of the leading enemy mech. The axes slashed and crushed an enemy, then the rest fired on him. He blurred again, and Hoarfrost exploited the hole to slam into the enemy line. Snow began to fall as mechs exploded from the frost strikes.

Above them clouds began to gather. Forgotten Soldiers fired into the enemy mechs then disappeared from sight before the enemy could counterfire. The enemy shifted to face them in an attempt to endure the onslaught.

Lilly took a deep breath and let it out. Then she pushed her willpower into Typhoon. The clouds darkened still further. Hail began to fall. Lightning arched down from the sky and raced towards Typhoon as the storm began to gather. The bright light then circled around the mech before spreading out. It avoided her allies. It didn't avoid her enemies. Any mech that had taken any sort of damage found the electricity crawl into its systems like clinging vines and fried it from the inside out.

The undamaged ones didn't stay undamaged for long. Lilly's gatling guns began to fire as the mech got into range. The pale-colored bullets flew through the air like more hail. It was as if the mech had become a living storm. What was worse for the enemies was that they bent unnaturally as the Star-Shifter began to activate, twisting the patterns of space and making the bullets hell to dodge. Mechs fell to the ground in veritable piles as they were shredded.

Above them all the storm began to intensify as the last of the enemies began to drop. Lilly tilted her head and examined the field. That hadn't been hard, but it had been senseless. Why do something so comically evil when she was known to be on the planet?

She almost discounted the movement and thunderclap. A lifetime of training and experience had her turning to face it. The Einherjar Berserker staggered slightly as it tried to regain its footing and attack her at the same time. The painting was different. The Friend or Foe was not her people. The axes were certainly on her way.

Lilly leaned into the attack. With less momentum and at an awkward angle they hit the armor and did practically nothing against her resonance defenses. This wasn't an expert. He was still a heavy, and that much weight behind the weapons could cause some damage to her. Lilly triggered another lightning storm and the electricity hit the nearest mech full throttle.

"Venerable Lilly, we've been ambushed!" Someone called out.

That was not good. It was actually very bad. They'd had vision of all the mechs that had come in. Where had these new ones come from? Jamming roared through her comms and the sky darkened as something started to happen. The sounds of screaming seemed to hit her senses even if there was no way it'd get through the soundproofing in the cockpit.

A Son of War slammed his banner into the ground. Lilly knew she had allies ready to fight, even as things grew darker. She watched as a mech raced to her and felt herself grin just a bit. Well it was exciting at least.
 
M205 New
An Einherjar Berserker was meant to get up close and personal. It had the armor and durability to support this role. In this case that meant it was only half dead from the point-blank lightning. It activated its shifter ability and attempted to jump away, only for it to veer strangely and force the mech to compensate outside her shifted area.

Lilly filed that observation away. Typhoon's shifting device was causing interference with the Berserker's equipment apparently. Useful, but also potentially dangerous to her own side if she wasn't careful. She switched to audio speakers to bypass the jammer.

"Status!" She called out even as she surveyed the area.

"Being attacked! Enemy FoF is unknown signature!" A shout came back.

"Play hurricane!" Lilly ordered back.

Typhoon was new and they hadn't had much time to practice with it. To keep things secret they'd actually barely practiced at all. That said, there were a few tactics that didn't require much rehersal. Hurricane was Lilly standing in one place and everyone else revolving around her.

Another Berserker jumped into her field of view. This one had obviously learned from the previous one and had tried to compensate for the distorted space. It didn't appear to have helped much. It was still forced to shift and boost to prevent falling over, which gave Lilly critical time to aim the gatling guns at it. The twin held weapons were not something that even the heavy armor of her current opponent could ignore. The mech recoiled as the bullets impacted it and then fell to the ground in pieces a second later.

This was a delaying action. Lilly could practically smell the trap trying to constrict around her. It still made little sense, but that didn't matter that much. All that mattered was living.

"What's with the screaming?" The expert asked as she dialed down the power on her mech. Typhoon's Storm-Shifter was a hungry thing and if she ran it at full all the time it'd run out quickly.

The screaming was like nothing she'd ever heard before. Haunting and terrified. It felt as if there should have been more though. It was like it was being muffled by the Glows being thrown around. Was the enemy using a new type of Glow? Ves hadn't come out with anything new that would darken the sky and make things scream.

Movement caught Lilly's attention. The Berserker she'd downed was lurching. A few steps forward and a stomp stopped it. Off in the distance she could see a Valkyrie move and attempt to attack her allies. A Valefar intercepted it and started to duel it, even as it raked its glow across people.

'Those are locked to Hexxer women.' The expert noted to herself. Hexxer and Friday exclusive mechs on the same side was extremely unusual.

She wanted to intercept and aid her allies, but again Typhoon was a hungry mech. This was also a trap that was just being sprung. Hasty maneuvering would potentially expose her. The enemy couldn't know Typhoon's abilities quite yet. Her other two mechs were more documented. This was Typhoon's first real deployment. It was best to keep her current abilities uncertain.

Around her the battle began to intensify. Several key things became apparent. The enemy pilots were acting strangely. Some were taking too many risks and being punished, others were conservative and twitchy. Still others were competent and deadly. It made Lilly think of some of the more dangerous drugs used by pilots. Many of the motions reminded her of the worst front-line fighters her father had deployed. The people that had to be strapped in and given their fix before they could function.

There was some uncomfortable conclusions that were starting to become apparent. Lilly frowned and then frowned deeper as the screaming intensified. Something dangerous moved in the distance and then angled to an approach vector. The expert turned to meet it and gagged slightly as the overpowering smell of blood hit her.

What came at her looked like a mech. It moved like a mech. Mechs weren't typically covered in what looked to be dried blood. Nor did they move quite like whatever this thing was moving. A normal person wouldn't have noticed it. Lilly did and wished she didn't. This wasn't being piloted by a person, whatever it was.

One gatling gun aimed and began to fire as the enemy accelerated towards her. The rain of bullets flew out, but between one second and the next the enemy's form blurred and everything missed. Lilly's eyes narrowed even as the thing approached still faster. The gun shifted from aiming at the enemy to doing a sweeping suppression spray.

A spark came from the side and Lilly fired her other gatling right in that direction. The enemy blurred again, or in this case the effect that made it seem to be in another area dissipated and the bullets sparked as they pinged off the rust coated armor. The monster shaped like a mech roared as it held up one hand to block and then its mouth sparked.

Lilly shifted her mech slightly so that the armored shoulder was leading. Not even a second later the red beam impacted the metal. Parts of it melted. Alerts flared. That arm went partially limp and damage reports showed half her mechs body was damaged.

The enemy resumed its approach. The unsettling stride made her want to shiver and she suppressed the instinct harshly. She'd done almost no damage with her primary weapon. The heavy gatling gun had shredded an Einherjar within seconds. This thing, whatever it was, had managed to tank it with scratches. She did not want to see it get close.

Willpower flared as the Storm-Shifter hit full power. Above her the clouds shifted, as if she was at the eye of a hurricane. Around her hail and lightning intensified. The enemy's meant to support and distract her allies found themselves under fire from incidental damage.

Lilly meanwhile carefully shifted her mech. Heavy feet stomped as the mech moved faster than it should have. Typhoon couldn't move as fast as an Einherjar, but it could still use it's shifter to move. More importantly it could use the shifting space to force the enemy to take a longer route. It also let her fire her gatlings in tandem on the target.

It was still very difficult. The thing moved bizarrely. Not human, not alien. It moved it like it was adjacent to reality and was smart as well. It juked her shots and used that perception altering technique more than a few times to get closer and closer. Lilly fired her weapons until they started to glow with heat and the most she accomplished was to cause a few gouges in the metal armor as it buckled from the strike. Every crack bled an unnaturally bright red.

She was being worn down and cornered. Especially by the dangerous mouth beam thing. With Storm-Shifter at full power she could force it to miss, but the device was not something that she could keep up indefinitely. Eventually she would have to drop it. All she was doing was delaying the inevitable.

Or at least that was what it looked like to the thing she was fighting. It wasn't an expert. It was just a thing with very good armor and probably expert adjacent as an analog or whatever. The key thing was that it lacked the resonance field that all experts had that mitigated damage from non-experts. That meant that her target wasn't the thing with the good armor. It was everything else.

While the thing lurked around her and tried to get closer for a killing blow, all its allies had slowly been dropped by incidental fire from her. Soon her allies were taking shots at it while it stalked her. It tried to ignore them, but approaching her directly quickly wasn't possible without taking a full face of her primary weapons. The armor might have been able to stand up to direct hits, but it was still taking damage and more of it. It was getting chipped down, and as the enemies were dropped, more and more firepower was being aimed its way.

Eventually it decided that it had run out of time. It rushed her despite the damage. Lilly spun her gatlings and fired full-bore. As the hail-like projectiles hit it, she shifted her position so that her allies were in just the right spot. Then she shifted where she was pushing her willpower from the Storm-Shifter to the lightning generator. The creature surged forward and right into her trap.

The result was akin to one of those little glass ball toys with electricity in them. All the lightning in the storm and from her focused on a singular spot. In this case the monster-thing. The result wasn't exactly pretty. It was an explosion that resembled a boiling pot exploding more than a mech being destroyed.

A few seconds after the sky started to lighten and the jamming stopped. Lilly powered down Typhoon and flicked the comm on. "Status?"

"Most of the enemies are cleared. Moderate material losses. Several pilot casualties. They weren't targeting pilots but they would go after ejections if they were in range." The report came with a bit of repressed rage. "Getting reports from other areas."

Lilly closed her eyes and prayed just a bit. "Bolt?"

"Conflicts were complicated there, but he wasn't threatened directly. Apparently he put the heirs to help repair." The response was quick and contained a very small chuckle.

"Hah!" It did make Lilly feel better, which was likely the point. "We're gonna have a lotta cleanup ain't we?"

"Likely."
 
M206 - End arc New
The incident didn't end when Lilly managed to finish the monster pretending to be a mech. The major and easily identifiable enemies were gone. The less identifiable enemies still lingered. It became a sort of quagmire that took several weeks to sort out. Most of this was due to sabotage and the paranoia the sabotage caused. They'd eliminate a hotspot only for another place to flare up, and it was not uncommon for people to suddenly betray their allies with no warning.

Most of this ended up being traced to a set of drugs and various other 'brainwashing' techniques used by a few agents rather than any sort of deep cover operatives. The largest break was a Wrench Rat attempting some sabotage but getting tackled by his fellows and subdued before being dragged into a medical station. There a fast-acting and subtle toxin had been discovered, and they'd followed up from there.

According to the medical reports, the custom toxin allowed for some very particular suggestions to take in very specific situations. It also dissolved quickly and left no traces after the effect. The man who'd gotten hit didn't remember acting strangely, and his recollection of the events had been completely contradictory to his behavior.

Bolt considered it a good reminder of the Five Scrolls Compact's danger. The organization had left very few traces in their assaults. The few things that people could find could be all explained through mundane means. The 'Crown Terrorists' had struck again in the public eyes and while they were new, they were a explainable issue. He did wonder why they bothered going along with the masquerade, but he could venture a few guesses. Really the only thing that made him certain that they were involved was the monster in front of him. Even the agents had destroyed themselves quite thoroughly rather than get captured.

What was worse was that there was really still no physical evidence even with the massive monster that Lilly had downed. The thing they'd dragged to the bay looked like a mech that had been fried. The armor was some expensive almost First Rate alloy. The innards aligned with what a mech would be. Even the pilot cockpit looked like someone had died in it.

If Bolt were not an expert in salvage, and if he didn't have experience in spiritual matters he wouldn't have known a thing. As it was, it made him sick. Literally ill. He'd been forced to spend a few hours centering himself after he'd figured it out.

The senseless killing of the local population wasn't actually senseless. They'd ground up people and poured the bodies over the armor. That alone was sickening. Several thousand people had been killed for this. What was worse was that something had been done with their souls too. The mech still screamed faintly to Bolt's senses, and Lilly couldn't stand being in the same room as it. Most people couldn't. They either become disturbed or fascinated. (The latter was fixed by removing the from the room and dunking their head in cold water.)

Really Bolt was so utterly disgusted by it that he couldn't be happy at the moment. It really drove home how abhorrent this entire philosophy was. Sure, just massacre a few thousand people for power. It wasn't like they meant anything. Utterly disgusting. It distracted him, and made him step away from a lot of the cleanup.

He was going to do something about that. He couldn't do it alone though. It would require far more access than he had. He did have an idea that could give him that access. His little instructional book on spiritual matters that was supposed to accompany the Heart System would have that access. He could use that to add a sort of... What?

The reason sacrifice of people, and apparently their souls too, was useful was because it gave power. So long as it gave power someone would use it. This was why it persisted. People would gladly pay the price if it wasn't them paying it.

Preventing it was impossible. The MTA and the CFA had both failed. Crushing the knowledge just didn't work. The very reality they lived in permitted it, and if it was permitted someone would rediscover it eventually. Bolt had to make it not worth it.

That would take some thinking. Until he had a proper idea he should probably handle a few other things. Or at least keeping up to date.

"Everyone on their way out?" Bolt asked Phillipe.

"Oui. They were not happy they had to re-vet their security detail. Most of them were third and lower heirs so there were probably corners cut somewhere and they are paying for it now." The young man noted.

"It turned out to be lucky getting you all working fer us." Bolt said back with a small chuckle.

"Well, it turned out to be lucky for us too. Ze work is fulfilling and the pay is good." The man teased back.

The banter broke some of his malaise and the designer nodded. "It's good to know that some things have gone right." He said before a priority message made him look at his comm.

A beat passed and Phillipe sighed. "That iz not good news is it?"

"It's... Strange news." Bolt replied with mild confusion. "The military contract we have has been severed in good order, and we're being politely requested to return home. They've also completed our removal from the noble line."

"Wasn't that going to take years?" The young head of security asked.

"It was. Someone pushed hard for this. Politically... I have no idea." Bolt closed his eyes and thought. "Thoughts?"

"Politically it could be seen as distancing themselves from you, but based on the information we have there was no real motion for that. That sort of pressure would have been to our sources." Phillipe reasoned out and rubbed at his chin. "Perhaps they are scared? Are there any statements on your military contracts?"

"A polite statement that they won't be needing more mech designs and a firm addendum that all my current contracts are unchanged. There's even a note that consulting might still be requested." Bolt said as he scrolled through his messages.

"My best thought is that it's a polite 'leave now please.'" Phillipe concluded after some thought. "You should see about more feelers. Is that apprenticeship still on?"

"Nothing about that in my messages. Might take some time for the news to travel."

Several days later they had no other conclusions. Most of the nobles still on the planet and in contact were as confused as him. Even the Gaugers weren't really certain, and Bolt was quite sure that they'd have been ecstatic at the news. The best guess people had was that some very high up officials had quietly applied pressure in certain areas to have this happen. His prospective student was still going to become his student, so he wasn't being cut out. It was quite strange.

Ultimately all that mattered was that Bolt and Lilly could go home and not have to deal with pressure from the Friday Coalition. They missed their children.
---

AN: Arch done, and a small break from me. Combo of work and me needing a small break haha. Expect a resumption Monday.
Variant name: Son of War
Base model: Banner-Man

Weight Classification: Medium
Recommended Role: Support
Armor: B
Carrying Capacity: B+
Aesthetics: A (Assuming optimal conditions.)
Endurance: B
Energy Efficiency: A
Flexibility: C-
Firepower: C+
Integrity: B-
Mobility: B
Spotting: C+
X-Factor: A+ (Assuming optimal conditions.)

Overall Evaluation: A mech with a deliberately simple and focused design to allow for easy war deployment. This mech is designed to embody the spirit of the unit it's assigned to. Unfortunately this makes it impossible to evaluate it with standard metrics. In optimal conditions it is a battlefield multiplier capable of matching any other morale boosting X-Factor. In suboptimal conditions it is a slightly above average mech with a medium to close range focus and a better than normal endurance. The X-Factor is explicitly dependent on the unit it is assigned to and their enthusiasm in decorating it. (Which is is also why the aesthetics are variable.)


Variant name: Hoarfrost Prototype
Base model: Hoarfrost

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

Overall Evaluation: A lancer mech with several unusual and atypical choices. The armor in particular deserves special attention as it is a layered composite, with the first layer being a regenerative ice-analog. While it lacks the traditional explosive lancer power, its weaponry is exotic enough that most mechs are not designed to resist it. The combination with the X-Factor provokes an unusual effect when more are used at once, altering the environment and creating a blizzard like effect upon charging.


Variant name: Yuki-onna
Base model: Hoarfrost

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

Overall Evaluation: A variation of the Hoarfrost mech, refined for mass production. The use of lesser exotics give it less overall performance but allows for cheaper creation, which is considered a worthwhile trade. The blizzard-like effect has been refined and it has the addition of an adjustable dial which causes a inflicts a chilling mental status to the user, granting them resistance to mental effects at a cost of mental stamina.


Variant name: Cheshire
Base Model: Cheshire

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

Overall Evaluation: A mech without weapons and with light armor. If it did not have a near perfect stealth field and the ability to run invisible for hours it'd be considered a toy in the shape of a mech. As is it has some use as a scout should the pilot be willing to risk themselves in something with minimal armor.


Variant name: Cheshire Expert
Base Model: Cheshire

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

Overall Evaluation: A stealth expert mech that is focused on remaining hidden at all costs. It is a ghost on the battlefield, and its exotic backed x-factor weapon causes debilitating back luck to any mechs afflicted with it. Due to the nature of its weaponry and design it cannot be located in battle, but will most certainly be felt.



Variant name: Forgotten Soldier
Base model: Forgotten Soldier

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

Overall Evaluation: An extremely solid rifleman that is capable of brief bursts of invisibility and movement. Using the two together makes the mech seem as if it is teleporting to those unfamiliar with the mech. The X-Factor gifts it supernatural teamwork and makes it a viable mech useful in every team as supplemental firepower.


Variant name: Valefar
Base model: Valefar

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

Overall Evaluation: A swordsman with a refined and efficient construction worthy of being considered a mech. It will likely be considered a favorite of sword purists and have a lifetime far beyond standard mechs due to its ability to increase its performance through X-Factor mechanics. The X-Factor 'steals' the fate of the enemies it defeats and it uses that potential to increase its own performance. Since the X-Factor is tied to nanomachine and tied to the concept of self improvement, the mech has no theoretical limit.

Practically most mechs will fail over time due to various reasons. The improvement is based off how significant the victory is. Only the greatest pilots would be able to realize the potential of the mech, and most will be forced to change mechs for various reasons. This would probably be considered a bonus to many rather than a bane. The path of the sword is not for everyone and requires dedication many would consider obscene.


Variant name: Little Witch (Third Rate V1)
Base model: Little Witch

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

Overall Evaluation: A first attempt of a novice just starting their journey. It shows a firm grasp of the basics and a hint of passion but is otherwise below average for a mech at it's tech level. The X-Factor has been unusually aligned with the weapon, an energy weapon in the shape of a wand. This allows it to shoot small stars that can curve unnaturally through the air. This provides a mildly novel feature that combined with the appearance may appear to some people.


Variant name: Einherjar Berserker
Base model: Bloody Berserker

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

Overall Evaluation: A mech that will always be first on the battlefield. Capable of immense surges of movement due to the Star-Shifter Device, it would be a true monster if it had unlimited power. Since it is still bound by some laws of physics, it is still only an immensely deadly shocktroop style mech. Armed with Twin axes and a missile launcher, it will appear next to its target and act with berserk fury before just as suddenly moving to the next victim. The armor also deserves a special mention as being optimized for quick repair, therefore removing one of the larger issues shocktroops typically have in that repair time typically exceeds operational time.


Variant name: Typhoon
Base model: Typhoon

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

Overall Evaluation: An expert heavy designed to function as a centerpoint a group builds around. When coordinating with other mechs it is capable of creating a literally lightning storm that damages enemies, redirects ranged attacks, and alters the very space around itself. Unfortunately, the Star-Shifter variant, Storm-Shifter is an enormous energy hog. This combined with the standard heavy flaws make it a rather expensive to run and gives it less endurance than what would be considered optimal. Were the offense less this would be a massive flaw. As is the mech is best operated in short bursts of deadly activity and long periods of careful observation.
 
M207 New
There was a trite saying out there. You could never go home again. It had a lot of meanings based on the person. Some could probably consider it a profound truth. Bolt rather felt like the saying didn't apply to him at all really. His home had always been with his family. Olympus was a refuge in his eyes. It was still a welcome one. Watching it loom in the distance as he approached gave him an indescribable sensation of relief and joy.

"Thinking I needed this more than I realized." Bolt muttered quietly.

"Hah. I can't wait to see our kids again." Lilly agreed with a breath before she closed her eyes. "We got everything set? If I get interrupted I ain't gonna be happy."

"Close as it's gonna get." The man replied.

Most of their recruited men weren't going to enter the mountain. There were a variety of reasons for this. Some were going to head back to the war immediately solo. Others were just going to find a different place to retire. Those that had made the decision to separate would be able to leave with everyone's blessing. Many were actually staying though. They had a very good ship and proven group after all. It would be a shame to have them just linger in the area on guard duty, so they'd come up with a fairly obvious alternative.

Ark Larkinson would be taking the ship out shortly to do more mercenary work after some organization and rearrangement. Naoto would be joining him. Two experts and some add-ons was an extremely strong mercenary group and it made for a rather potent source of income and experience. Even if they just broke even it was worth having them out and about.

That had been the easiest decision of the after contract wrap up. The rest of it was just sorting things out logistically. Bolt's duties to the contestant winners could be done remotely when they decided to call in the rewards. Herald would likely stay in orbit once he arranged things on his end. Sami would come down with Willow discretely later. It was complicated, but ultimately not really that much of a hassle.

All taken together it was a surprisingly neat and tidy conclusion to their war contribution. Both parents were glad for it. They were understandably distracted by more personal matters. The main reason was waiting for them at the entrance.

Two children stood there with Bolt's mother and father. At their side they had a pair of stuffed animals. Ruckus, their son, was holding a small wooden sword with one hand and the toy with the other. Bunny was just holding her doll.

As their parents stepped out the two stared at them. Bolt winced internally before kneeling down. "Hey boyo. Remember us?" He'd been gone for awhile and Ruckus had been young.

The young boy toddled up to his father and peered at him suspiciously. He then poked at Bolt with his sword. Bolt chuckled and gave the weapon a little wiggle. The little boy's eyes narrowed before he aimed his stuffed toy Bolt's way. The security device disguised as a toy gave a happy beep of recognition. Bolt approved of the caution.

"Hmmm." Ruckus made a great show of pondering. "You owe me dessert every night for leaving!" His conclusion was both surprising and not.

Bolt chuckled and carefully reached out. "Sorry, how about a shoulder ride and a few stories."

"Adventure stories?" Ruckus asked and met the other man's arms.

"Yeah, adventure stories." Bolt responded and pulled his kid up to his shoulders.

Lilly meanwhile had managed to get Bunny. Sort of. The little girl was cuddling with her stuffed rabbit and letting herself be held. Her face was hidden in the doll and she was slightly tense, though the tension was rapidly dropping.

"Adventures await Bun!" Ruckus proclaimed from his father's shoulders. "Poppa has returned!"

Bunny didn't give any response.

"She still quiet?" Lilly asked her parent-in-laws in a low tone.

"Not inclined to chatter. She tends to clam up in new situations as well." Bolt's mother informed her in an equally low voice. "She does have a set o' lungs though. Ya missed the terrible twos."

"Almost sad about that." Lilly noted with a half joking grin as she cuddled the girl. "So, still adventure boy?"

"Very much so."

"Onwards!" Ruckus said and pointed his little sword in towards the mountain.

"Yes, onwards!" Bolt agreed and his wife laughed.

What followed next was a lot of kid things that the new parents gladly went along with. Ruckus wanted to show them all his favorite spots with all the exuberance of the young. The kid had a lot of them, mostly innocent places where he could stand and climb. He apparently made a habit of trying to explore everywhere. Fortunately he was mostly limited to children playpen areas, otherwise Bolt was actually fairly concerned his son would have found a way of hurting himself. As it was, the boy loved climbing and had found a way to get partially into a few of the vents. Fortunately they were childproof, but the dedication the young lad had for finding places he shouldn't get into was extreme enough to be a bit alarming.

Bunny in contrast just wanted cuddles and hugs. She was perfectly content to be held and carried. In point of fact she'd decided to be very clingy once she'd familiarized herself with her mother again. Lilly was extremely happy to indulge that. Putting her down ended up getting a rather high pitched whine though, and this could mean bad things if it persisted. For now the kids were getting used to their parents again and Bolt and Lilly were likewise doing the same thing. This meant that a little bit of clinginess was perfectly fine.

Such simple concerns were a balm that Bolt hadn't realized he'd needed. It was all well and good to think about mechs and wars and politics, but ultimately this was very important as well. Getting his kids and watching them grow. It was what it meant to be human. If he lost sight of that he'd become just another one of those monsters that littered the galaxy.

The adventures couldn't last though. Eventually the two kids did get tired out and started to fight yawns. Getting them put into their beds was a small and new struggle, but the parents managed it with some effort, some play, and many promises that they'd be there in the morning. After they finally got to sleep Bolt spent a few minutes watching them.

This was like nothing he'd had growing up. He loved his parents dearly, but a safe and clean room without a hint of battle had not been one of the things he'd been given. He'd always had the hint of oil or rust. The scent of battle had been omnipresent. Even in the safest room the best he'd had was warm blankets and thick walls. He didn't begrudge his parents. It was only now that he'd realized how far he'd come.

He also felt a burning anger resurging into his heart. Those cultists would have no trouble grinding up people like his children just for a little bit more. People considered he and his expendable. Today he felt like he could break that completely. He would, most certainly. He couldn't remove war from the galaxy, but he could certainly murder a few ideas that should stay dead.

Bolt was home. He wasn't going to rest, and it was time to start trying to act rather than react.
 
I074 New
Ves couldn't say he was happy at the moment. How could he be? His rivalry had been interrupted by politics of all things! The gall of those arrogant Friday men! All his enthusiasm was gone now. Admittedly it hadn't been high in the first place. His contacts with the Hexxers had informed him that the manufacturing base on their end was starting to fracture. It wasn't going to be much of a contest anymore with the lack of forces on his end.

The designer wasn't going to let himself get too emotional about the poor ending though. He was almost out of the galaxy by this point. His company and mechs in the Komodo sector would still run thanks to a few MTA purchases, but he'd have to prioritize things around him more. Even if Bolt could maintain the rivalry on his end, Ves couldn't. Hell, the only reason he could pay attention was the fact that things had been very peaceful on the last stretch. After the chaos of his last few decisions it was rather welcome truthfully.

A chirp from his comm made him pull it up, and his eyes widened at the message he'd gotten. A request had come in from the very person he'd been thinking of. He flipped through the details and found himself genuinely impressed and intrigued. He accepted it with a flick and then sent out a few messages to his allies before picking up his cat.

"Meow?" The robotic animal asked.

"I got an unusual commission." Ves informed his pet. "You're coming with to help keep me safe."

"Mow." Lucky's ears flattened.

"There's only a chance of danger. Better safe than sorry." The man said, and a few minutes later he was being teleported.

As an organization the MTA offered a variety of services in exchange for credits. One of them was a priority transportation service. With enough credits you could move halfway across the galaxy in a matter of hours instead of months. It was genuinely pricy and rather rare to use.

Bolt had offered Ves a round trip along with a commision.

It had to be said again that this was expensive! Furthermore, it required a fair amount of respect from the MTA! Ves couldn't imagine why his rival would have bothered to do something like this really. You didn't do this just because you just needed a designer's expertise. You could do collaborations remotely with relative ease. This request therefore required his physical presence, and furthermore it came with an expectation of privacy and safety, backed by several very serious MTA officials. Ves was both flattered and curious as to why.

A day later Ves was inside the mountain. He only knew this because that was where he'd been told he was. Teleportation was disorientating in the best of times. On a priority transport it was close to harsh. He was recovering quickly, but he had a new appreciation to the ground.

"Ves Larkinson. Pleased to meet you." Bolt looked larger and more dangerous in the flesh. Ves had to crane his head up to look the man in the face.

"Bolt Silica." Ves offered a hand without a trace of fear in his heart. At his feet Lucky flopped to the ground with mild annoyance.

The other man shook the hand with a small smile that dropped. "Forgive me for being a bit abrubt. I'm not in the best mood." He said before holding up a box. "Consider this the down payment for your consultation." He handed it over.

Ves raised an eyebrow and took the box before opening it. The blare of spiritual power almost made him drop it, and he stared briefly at the fragmented copy of the water scroll before snapping the box shut immediately. His mind raced at the possible implications. Giving this was a serious statement of intent, and he knew for a fact that Bolt understood how valuable this was.

"If you need to add additional security precautions before we speak you can." Bolt offered placidly as he put his hands behind his back. "I am authorized by the MTA to speak on matters related to things like what I just gave you."

"They know about this?" Ves asked.

"Reported it tha second I got em. I can't trust all of the organization, but I do got a few people there that got my back." Bolt confirmed with a nod.

Ves still pulled out his comm and activated the privacy field in it. "This is a fragmented copy of something some very dangerous people would want." He informed the other man, trying to convey how dangerous it was with as few words as possible.

"Got another one if ya want it." Bolt replied with a shrug that didn't conceal how serious he was. "Ya can't tell me you couldn't use it. I know I could do a lot, and you could likely do more."

That was something he couldn't argue with. Ves looked at the box and took a deep breath before straightening himself. "I won't accept this until you tell me what you want to do."

"Two things related to one goal. First, is more a consult." Bolt pulled a booklet out of his pocket. "Right now I list you as the foremost expert but I'd like to put ya down as co-author."

Ves took the booklet and leafed through it.

His first thought was anger. This was trying to replicate his work! After the initial page that anger cooled though, and looking through it made him frown instead. It actually couldn't replicate his work as it was. It actually couldn't do much at all. It was baby's first steps into spiritual work. It had a series of exercises and tools to theoretically develop a personal style. He would have loved this starting out, but there were several later steps that didn't exist and even if you were trying to deliberately restrict it, the leaps of thought were too disjointed.

"It's flawed." Ves concluded. "You don't have enough here, and it has some incorrect assumptions." He flicked to one particular exercise. "Also, I don't understand why you had this so prominent."

The exercise involved something called 'affirmation.' It didn't do much. It seemed to be something that would slightly alter the soul of someone. This wasn't necessary to work with spiritual matters.

"Let me show you something." Bolt said instead of answering and turned around.

Ves deactivated his comm, nudged his cat and made to follow. The bay they were in was typical of most mech bays. Standard configuration and setup for assembling a mech. Ves knew the setup like the back of his own hand. The next room was a more secured area but still the same sort of thing. This one held a mech...

Only his long experience concealing his emotions kept him from shouting in surprise once he studied the thing more. Whatever that object was, it wasn't a mech. He channeled spiritual power to his eyes and blinked at what it revealed to him.

His first thought was confusion. Why would someone do this? Why would you fuse a few thousand people into this and make it look like a mech? It was so inefficient. Then he identified the children and he had to turn off his spiritual sight. It was one thing to use pilots. They knew the risks. They put their lives on the line. Ves would gladly use anyone that attacked him as fuel for his creations. This sort of thing? Cramming civilians and children into a tormented mess in some attempt at power?

"Made me ill when I figured out what it was." Bolt drawled out as he stared at it. "The thing tried to kill my wife and now I'm left with trying to keep it from happening again."

"The affirmation process is meant to make something like this harder." Ves stopped channeling to his eyes and rubbed at them with a small wince. "You can't stop people from killing, but you can make it inefficient to do this."

"You got it quick. Only reason I thought o' it is cause I know salvage." Bolt confirmed. "Add resistance and make in inefficient and people won't bother."

Ves nodded back. "I think you can improve upon that idea with my help." The designer said. "It wouldn't be enough, even if you spread it across the galaxy."

"I'll be sending it out with the Heart System. That's been added to the next generation MTA catalog." Bolt admitted with a slightly embarrassed expression. "Ya don't think that will be enough?"

Surprise hit Ves. For a moment he didn't know what to say. Jealousy hit him next, but he suppressed it. He was being offered a name on that pamphlet. It was free advertising! And it wouldn't put only him in the crosshairs. He got the prestige, and he kept his secrets! (Also he was very glad he was leaving the galaxy, because that was still going to put a big target on him.)

"Only designers would read this, and I'd guess maybe a quarter would try it at first. Even if every one of them tries it that wouldn't be enough. You'd need a stick." The designer held the box. "You have another one of these?" He asked and got a nod. "We use them to make a big stick."

They were mech designers. When it came to problems, the optimal solution was mechs!
 
I075 New
Working with Bolt was different than Ves had expected. The man had absolutely no ego in designing. He would poke and prod at your design certainly, but he would easily concede to any changes if you explained them. It was one of the most alien attitudes he'd ever encountered. Even his wife got pushy on her designs! The attitude made him twitchy enough that he had trouble concentrating.

Eventually it became too much. "Where is your pride?!" Ves finally said, mid brainstorming.

"Huh?" Bolt looked up from his design station with confusion. "Pride?"

"I've done plenty of designing contests and worked with many designers. Even the novice assistants I have try to support their own ideas more than you are!" Ves didn't shout, but he was close.

"Ah." The other designer tapped at the table. "I was trying to be polite. Might o' overdone it. Could you initiate your privacy filter again?"

Ves did so out of mild confusion more than anything else. "It's on." He said.

"So, I know 'bout the spirit thing." Bolt informed Ves bluntly.

"Spirit thing?" Ves repeated and clamped down on any reactions.

"You should see about adding some encryption or filters to keep someone from identifying the connection. I sussed it out really early and have been keeping an eye on it. There's a few flaws that I can see right off." Bolt said conversationally. "Like for instance, the entity you setup with the Hexxers is fairly strong and I've seen a few hints of intelligence, but a lot of what it does is just feed power into the mech on what amounts to an automated process. If I had been feeling mean I might have managed to do something to it with a few of the captured mechs before it could react and hurt everything your side."

His mind started to race and consider the angles immediately. Ves had a lot of secrets. The spirits that backed his mechs were some of his largest ones. Yet Bolt had not even touched them. He'd even taken the time to warn Ves in a controlled way. The very thought was almost inconceivable. It was a form of respect that he hadn't expected to experience, and quite foolish in a way. Ves wouldn't have hesitated to do something to Bolt's mechs. It highlighted the differences between them.

Very slowly the spirtual designer nodded. "Thank you for telling me that." His voice was a bit faint. "I will see about getting a security system in place." Really he should have done so before! He was kicking himself for getting so caught up in the idea to realize that there could be ways of sabotaging the connection.

"So, ah I obviously got a lotta secrets myself, but one of em that's relevant here is that I can sorta reinforce another designer's work. I figure we do that here. Treat me as an aide and we can boost up your spiritual stuff better." Bolt concluded with a nod.

Ves frowned at the designer desk and then got up as he made a decision. "If we are going to do that, we're going to do that all the way. Let's go back to that abomination. We'll use that to fuel the rest."

"I will have to object if you want to use the souls in there for something. I wanted to see about laying them to rest." Bolt got up behind him casually, but there was steel in that statement.

Despite himself Ves felt his mouth quirk into a smile. He had thought about that, but if anything this was better. He was feeling inspired. There were principles and then there were principles. Bolt held the latter. Ves would do anything to live. He knew it. His rival wouldn't, and that made everything better.

The secured bay was as still and silent as it had been on his last visit. Ves could still almost hear the screaming. He objected to the work in front of him in many ways even after thinking about it. Not because of morals. He acknowledged that if he was pushed enough he might do just as ugly. It simply a crude and sadistic piece of work that indulged in too much sadism. The pain gave the monster power, but that was like using sludge to power an engine. If Ves ever had to do something like this he'd never make it scream. Not that he had a desire to.

Privately Ves vowed that he'd gain enough power never to be pushed into a corner where something like this became ana necessary option. He traveled dark places. He had already killed many people. He would kill more. He would not do it for pleasure. He would do it to live and to spite those that would kill him. This creation, this monstrosity pretending to be a mech was something only failures would use, and he would remember that.

Ves placed his hand at the armor of the thing and then reached out with his spiritual power. He grabbed at one of the fused souls and pulled. The spiritual object screamed and tried to lash out at him.

"You're going to be better at this than me!" Ves had to yell to be hard even if there wasn't physical sound. "Destroying it would put them to rest, but we can do that and use the pain and anger to form a foundation! Hell, I'm certain that if we physically damaged it, it'd be even worse!"

Bolt reached out. His work was like a scalpel to Ves' grab. The souls screamed at Ves. They were almost quite around Bolt. Both pulled the souls away, and then Ves showed him how to give them all a small push away and to peace rather than the endless agony they'd been twisted into.

He didn't know where the souls would go after this. They might dissolve. They might reach paradise. He didn't care. What he cared about was that this was better than the torment, and that they left remains. These remains weren't really ghosts. Specters was perhaps a better word for it. Whatever they were, they were fuel too. Bolt quickly figured out that he was better at extracting that energy and purifying it into something usable. Ves could then take that and feed it into his spiritual ideal.

This one was a guardian. A vengeful thing. An angel. It would protect souls like this and hate, hate, hate those that would defile them. The process was far different than his other spirits. Those had been done through ritual or mental exercises. This was the two of them working together in a place that felt more spirit than reality. There was so much power being released in this process that Ves could see only see through his spiritual sight. His eyes and ears were being obscured by distorted power.

"You know, your designing soul looks like a metal snake with no mouth and very sharp spikes." Ves commented as they worked.

"Hah! Lilly called it an Orobous." Bolt replied with a bark of laughter before pulling out another soul. "Poor thing. You were like what, two?"

"Disgusting." Ves had no other words for it. It didn't even give power. It was there to torment the family.

"Yours is a tree with bloody roots by the way." The other designer said quietly.

"I won't lie and say my hands are clean. I'll promise you now that I'll never do this." Ves gestured to the mech-adjacent monstrosity.

An odd effect was happening as they worked. Not only was the room being drenched with spiritual power, the monster was starting to dissolve sans sense. Before it had been a mass of metal. Now it was half metal and half dust. Ves approved. He was finding this thing uglier by the minute.

"That's all I feel like I could ask." Bolt said quietly. "What spirit will come from this?"

"After I add the scroll fragments, I'm thinking one named Metatron. It will be a stick that you can use with my blessing." Ves already had the image in his head and it was filling out quickly due to the glut of power.

To his entertainment Bolt's contribution was changing it immensely. The man's hatred wasn't reaching his face or his actions, but it was in his soul. This was the first time Ves had willingly worked with someone else on a designer spirit, and it felt interesting. Metatron was brilliant even half formed.

Ves was going to love his glow.
 
I076 New
Bolt had to bow out of further designing after they'd dissolved the construct. Ves hadn't even been aware that it was possible to strain spiritual power enough to display the symptoms the man had been displaying. The affects did look rather unpleasantly harsh, and it made him very aware of his own strength now that he had a peer to compare himself to. Bolt had been working for years in spiritual matters by this point and he'd almost injured himself doing what they did. By contrast Ves could probably have gone for another few days. He left secured are contemplating that.

This was the point where he met Lilly. The tiny expert was like none he'd ever seen before. All of the ones he'd seen previously had a burning will and a sense of rigid iron in their makeup. Cultivating willpower meant that they were opinionated, stubborn, and frequently difficult for Ves to get around. Lilly barely had any presence at all. She was like the wind. (This made Ves more wary rather than less. Anyone that thought wind was harmless was a moron.)

"Ya remind me of a few of the nastier folks I've met. The ones that'd backstab ya fer a coin." Lilly led off with as she met him at the entrance.

Ves frowned. "I wouldn't backstab you for a coin."

"For an MTA cred you probably would, but I can't say it's the worst thing I've dealt with. Try to lie to me as little as possible and we're good." Lilly grinned slightly. "Now lemmie bring ya to your family. They're waiting to meet you."

Ves stared at the tiny woman before he shook his head. The opinionated part was there obviously, but the flexibility was different. No expert he'd met would be so willing to let a first opinion like that go without some serious motivation. A suspicion hit him.

"Did you try your husband's affirmation technique?" The designer asked.

"Ya mean that little mental exercise in the book? We went over that a lot when he was tryin to hit Journeyman. It's based off what we learned." The expert responded with a bit of curiousity in her voice while they moved through the mountain.

"I wonder if that means it'd help with gaining expert." Ves mused and felt small thrill as an idea came to him. "If we market that with the rest of the exercises, everyone would want to do it."

Lilly paused mid step and visibly thought on the idea. "It could. I'll talk it over with our other experts and see what they think. At the bare minimum I think it'd make experts more stable when they ascend. If we think it's ok we'll write something up."

Ves did admit that'd be a good thing. He was more thinking about how much money he could make if the instructional booklet had more customers though. As a co-author he'd get a small cut. Not much. The pricing wouldn't be high for just a small book. It would still be bought around the galaxy. He'd be rolling in credits!

It was on those pleasant thoughts that Ves walked into the hall that contained his family. There were more than a few people there to his surprise. These were the family members that had decided to stay around rather than risk the travel to the Red Galaxy. He'd expected maybe a few of the more friendly family members. Instead the room was filled.

"Ves!" His grandfather drew his attention with the call and Ves stared at him a moment.

"You look... Very good." The man breathed out.

"Got a few things that agree with me here, and a few secrets we can't tell." The old patriarch of the family said with a wink. "But this isn't about me. You look good too." He moved for a hug that Ves gladly returned.

"Bolt did something." Ves noted and held up a hand to stop any talking. "Don't tell me what."

Secrets were important, and he didn't want to endanger himself or them with them. He was just glad his family was doing well. They all were. There were laughs and smiles and congratulations, all of it lined with an undercurrent of confidence. These people felt valued and important.

"This isn't what we left, but it's still something we can live with." His grandfather said as he took a seat after some introductions and trivial conversations.

"Hey, did I miss it?" A familiar voice made Ves look up to see his cousin come in.

Of all the changes Melinda was apparently one of the largest ones. She didn't look physically different. Everything else was different. She was more grounded in a way that was hard to explain.

"You didn't." The elder Larkinson said as he waved the woman in. "May I introduce our newest head of security for the planet?"

"Assistant head." The woman corrected and grabbed Ves in a hug. "Look at you. I remember when you were a weedy boy trying to make a girly-mech in a video game!"

"Haha." Ves got out a small laugh. He'd rather forget about those older days. Especially the more... Experimental mechs. (The butt escape pod still made him cringe.) "It's good to see you cousin. Head security?"

"Assistant. I couldn't stand the hours that'd come with the head stuff." Melinda said with a small groan of pain. "Got enough of that with Lilly dragging me all the way around the sector! That woman is a maniac!"

"You know I didn't really get a feel for her." Ves noted out loud. His concentration had been mostly on Bolt and a single conversation wasn't enough to evaluation someone.

"Maniac. Never seen a woman so good at piloting, even for an expert. She's also really scary in how she can read someone." The woman said with a small and fake shudder. "She just set me up on a blind date too."

"That's your own fault." Ves' grandfather said with a small grin. "Would you believe she's been fighting with one of the locals for the past month until Lilly locked them both into a closet?"

Ves stifled a laugh at the betrayed look the woman shot their mutual family member. "Putting aside future failures, how are the mechs like? You're probably one of the few people that can contrast them. Nothing secret, just what you can tell me." He was very curious.

"Hey!" Melinda shook a hand in mock anger before she frowned and tried to think of how to reply. "If we're talking about Glows, his are like braces or armor. It's a weapon that feels comfortable in your hand, but maybe in a different style. Like the Hoarfrost feels cold. My favored one is the Torment Guard, and sometimes it's like I'm not piloting the mech. I am the mech."

Ves nodded slowly. That was contrary to his mechs. Very much so. They were meant to be companions, not equipment. "Is that better or worse for you. Honest answer. I'm a mech designer and if my mechs aren't working for you then I need to know." Designers were meant to serve pilots, not the other way around!

Melinda frowned and took a seat. "No? Yes? Your mechs have opinions. That's the best way to describe it. They're comfortable, but all of them have wills, and if you synch with them it's better. If you don't, it's another fight. I never had trouble with the latter because of your words about living mechs, but some people probably did."

"There are people who have trouble with Bolt's mechs too. It's most obvious with the Berserker line." The elder Larkinson gave his input.

Ves nodded slowly. "That's valuable input."

He'd not considered the compatibility problem. It had not come up in when speaking with the pilots who piloted the mechs in his fleet. It might have come up in company reviews, but those had been so jammed with people complaining about his Hexxer support he couldn't say.

That brought up another issue. His company in this sector needed either more support, someone to manage it, or he needed to sell it. It was a welcome source of income that was rapidly going to become useless due to currency exchange rates.

Ves exhaled and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He'd consider that later. Right now family time.
 
M208 New
Designing a mech with Ves was probably a rather frustrating experience for other people. Bolt had been able see why in their first session and could see why as they continued. It was like trying to design something that connected to a pipeline you couldn't see and the creator kept obscured. To highly intelligent and frequently opinionated mech designers, this was akin to waving a flag in front of someone and going 'neener neener neener.' It also had a few knock-on effects in that most designers wouldn't understand what Ves needed to make his mechs truly. Bolt also knew enough to be different. He wondered a moment how this would take before dismissing the concern and focusing on the design itself.

"These are physical shunts?" Ves asked curiously at the initial design. "I don't see what they're connected to, and don't know this notation."

"Call them channels. They're tapping into the other side." Bolt explained as he traced the specific notation he'd developed for spiritual matters. "We line them with a material that can work with the design and it should help with your specialty." He was being a bit obscure with his wording since they weren't under Ves' privacy screen.

"Ah I see." The other designer nodded slowly. "It both firms up the framework and lets the energy move more precisely. I'm already seeing the benefits of your specialization. It makes me want to ask you to come with me!" His tone made it clear he was joking.

Bolt had once likened Ves' work to something akin to lighthouse mirrors. Ves created spirits that then pushed power into mechs to create the glows. His main contribution was making the mirrors more precise and efficient in this design. Bolstering the other designers work basically.

"Offensive leaning or defensive leaning?" Bolt asked next.

"For this one offense. As much as possible." Ves was quick to answer. "It's going to need to channel a lot of rage and aggression."

"We're going to need anti-infantry too." Bolt added after a moment of thought.

"Ooh, tricky."

It was. Mech level weaponry was by necessity heavy and had mild to moderate difficulty hitting man-sized targets. Normally that was completely irrelevant. A mech shot would typically annihilate even an armored human if it just got within the general area. Five Scroll minions were different. They were either tiny fast targets or large things that didn't obey physical laws. The variance in possible targets made it so that this mech would need a variety of weapons.

The base design was decided to be a hero mech after some discussion. One hand would use a spear. The other hand would have a handgun with variable ammo. This required a tradeoff in that the handgun could potentially run into an issue where the handgun wasn't usable for various reasons. Both Ves and Bolt figured that the handgun specifically could be swapped for other ranged weapons depending on need and sacrificed specializing the limb to make it capable of handling that sort of variance. The spear would be less swappable.

With that weapon Bolt added more channels and Ves helped by customizing it still further. This was going to be one of the main Glow focuses. There was a lot of symbolism in a spear-strike, and with the spirit's forming specialty, that symbolism would be more potent. Neither designer was quite certain what the result of stabbing something the spirit hated would do, but it would definitely be potent and rather lethal.

"There needs to be more." Bolt mused as he looked at the unfinished mech.

"I agree." Ves concurred. "Think that Star-Shifter would work on it?"

"Maybe, but my gut is saying no." The Senior Designer looked up at the ceiling as he tried to trace why. "This will probably need to operate in a lot of strange areas. That device behaves erratically when it can't really define the area."

"So, the Glow will had to fill in. We have it in the spear, but what else?"

"Maybe sensors?" Bolt said as a small idea came to him.

Ves closed his eyes to both think and commune with his spirit. "That would work with the glow. See the evil and slay the evil. I don't think it would be enough still. A spear-gun hero mech requires a lot of finesse. This is going to move in and out and play with range. If this were Third Rate I would focus on the boosters, but this is Second Rate and meant to punish people that can potentially be First Rate."

The last statement was absurd on the face of it, but that was the core of the issue. Nothing Bolt or Ves could do would really let them punch up that hard. Glows simply couldn't bridge that harsh a gap. This mech was going to risk its life each time against enemies they didn't know the depths of.

A few seconds of brainstorming followed before Bolt added wings to the mech back, mostly just trying out various designs. Ves stifled a laugh and then expanded them into something mechanically impossible. Bolt made them fluffy next. Then both designers erased the appendages without a word. Being silly was fine something, but this was serious, serious work. (Little doodles were fine in the initial concepts and encouraged even. Outlines were fairly malleable, and actually very necessary for making a iconic and valued mech. Truly ugly mechs didn't sell well.)

Wings did have uses though and Bolt decided to lean into that. he added a different type of booster to the back and shaped it so that it looked almost like wings. When the mech was in action it would look rather winglike. This particular family of booster gave the mech an absurd mobility at the cost of taking up most of the back and being rather energy heavy.

"Hero mechs are inspirational mechs." Ves recited.

"That a lesson?" Bolt asked back as he found he liked the current framework.

"They're niche and difficult to use due to the weapons. The role they play on the battlefield is more a morale support and versatile reinforcement. They're not the best at anything though, which is why they're hard to use." Ves tried to summarize.

Bolt nodded slowly. "Most o' what I know about em is battlefield tactics. Ya tend to see them up close like melee mechs, but they'll tend to shift quickly in and out." He tapped at the monitor. "We're going to need more flare than normal to do that here then."

He made a few adjustments to alter the visual profile. The plumes from the wing boosters would be larger and more obvious. Make the head look like one of those dangerous helmets. Add color.

Ves made the spear and gun more artistic and slightly glowing as his contribution. He even added small mist emitters in a few areas. They were signature things from his birth planets. Due to the strategic placements, they gave the mech a sort of ethereal feel.

It still needed a bit more offense. Almost as another joke Bolt added some explosives to the feet, but then he realized it could work. It wouldn't be a strong weapon, but something like a fire stomp would be a perfect anti-infantry effect and a good desperation weapon. With the heavy boosters on the back in the shape of wings, Bolt could reinforce the feet to make them good for kicking.

Once Ves saw the idea they shifted the entire design to accommodate it. It was a very niche tactic, but some mechs had the ability to kick. It was also fully compatible with the design with just a few changes. Bolt could see it now, flying up into the air and slamming down on a targeted area! That would be both a statement and a solid offense. It worked well with the mist emitters too! The stomp would be absolutely cinematic, which would help a lot with the glow and role this mech was going to play.

It would still require some filling out, but Bolt judged they'd be done in about a week and could make it then. Not bad for a mech of this level.
 
M209 New
They'd gone with First Trumpet as the mech name. It was a name that held several meanings. The most obvious and official one that Ves and Bolt were going with was that it was the First mech of a small line that one or both of them would work on in the future. As a Second Rate mech it wasn't something that could kill FSC or even really turn the tides against the things both designers found abhorrent immediately. It would serve as a foundation for the future, and theoretically inspire others. The spirit backing it was more important as well. Once they'd gotten enough data it's use could be expanded over the years.

Future prospects mostly hinged on the initial models doing well though, so the two designers had decided to hand craft the first mech. Once it was done they'd have it go through some basic testing and Ves could head home. The plan was to revise it a few times before selling it in the sector.

"You're insane." Ves noted as they started the building process.

"Huh?" Bolt asked back.

"That's a three person life you're doing solo." The man said, waving at the bar Bolt was holding.

"Ah. Well, there's advantages to being strong." Bolt answered with a nod and got to work.

"I suppose it's your spine to ruin!"

Small jokes aside, this was one place where the designer's thoughts converged. Building mechs was just as important as designing them. Every designer had to understand the process and get their hands on it.

"Thinking I'm going to have this done regularly by my students." Bolt mused as they slowly arranged the mech parts for assembly.

"Oh? I suppose as a Senior you are expected to have students." Ves replied with a small nod. "Thinking this needs to be aligned slightly differently?" He tapped at one of the screws.

"Might be. Note it and sim it quickly." Bolt said and continued. "I do. It's surprisingly fulfilling. Gonna be picking up a few more from my family here too soon. They're about done with the educational part."

"I do have a student." The other designer said as he manipulated several cranes into the proper areas. "I'm proud of her, so I do understand the sentiment."

"Did you teach her spiritual techniques?" Bolt asked idly.

"Somewhat. I will be giving her the first draft of that book we're collaborating on." Ves nodded as he continued. "I have been neglecting that aspect, and your book gives me the best opportunity to help with that!"

Conversation continued in that line. Most casual topics to pass the time. Both designers knew focusing on creating the mech got better quality, but they also were more than happy to stay in the moment. They were colleagues in this instance. That might change in the future, but for now they were dedicated to this mech and the purpose behind it.

Assembling things were different with a spirit, Bolt found. It was extremely subtle, but he could feel it. The thing hovering at the edges of reality. It wasn't friendly, nor was it unfriendly. It was simply there and watching. It did also bring up a potential problem that Bolt needed to address early.

The Heart System went in as soon as possible and then Bolt began to fiddle with the programs that helped coordinate the spiritual construction of the mech. There needed to be a proper, obscured connection here for it to work right. Which was truthfully more than a little difficult. The channels they'd put in the design helped give it a decent focus thankfully.

"I did think compatibility might become an issue. I'm glad you're addressing it now." Ves said while Bolt looked at it.

"Gonna need yer input ta finish it off tho'." The other designer brought up a few commands. "Go ahead and wiggle these awhile." He paused and waved a hand.

With a chuckle Ves did so with his eyes closed. The settings he was adjusting had no physical component. The closest analog would be frequency, but even that was not quite it. It was the layer between the mech and the spirit. Bolt needed it both synched properly and fortified enough that sabotage wasn't possible. Fortunately, this was something that humanity had long since dealt with. Encryption techniques weren't quite unbreakable in this day and age, but Bolt could make them close to impossible to break. If the spirit was able to touch the programming and understand how to alter the encryption keys, it would be impossible.

"I'll need something like this for the future." Ves said while tapping at the controls once more to finish the alignment.

"Don't wanna do that yerself?" Bolt asked with a raised eyebrow.

"In this I will trust you." The other man answered with a nod. "We're both mech designers trying to make the best mech possible."

"Then I'll be sure to have a package made for you." Bolt agreed easily with a nod of his own.

Once the mech was synched with the spirit the construction started up again. It was one of the easiest constructions Bolt had truthfully. Ves wasn't as good as him at making a mech, but he was still above every other person he'd worked with. Their combined intuition made it so that sometimes they didn't even need to speak to one another. Sometimes Ves anticipated him, sometimes he anticipated Ves.

Piece by piece the mech came together and Bolt frowned. He and the other designer exchanged a look and slowed down. They could both feel it. There was an alignment of energy and physical form. It was familiar. It just needed a bit of help.

Their next few minutes were checking the very fine details. Screws were put at optimal tightness, parts shaved off by just a hair. A little bit of shifting here and there. Nothing on itself was significant. Taken together it wasn't much. Some of it was just a sign of dedication and care.

Very, very slowly the last bits came in. Bolt and Ves held their breath as reality started to shift in ways only they could perceive. It was almost there.

A little bit of paint was the end. White and Gold. The mech's cockpit closed and the first checks started. As the machine gave it's ok, it shifted. Parts adjusted just slightly. The mech's shape became more refined. Another Mastery had been created.

"Well, we were going to sell it anyway." Bolt mused.

Ves tapped at his shoulder. "Data."

"Yes it was all recorded." The designer said with a chuckle. "And yes you'll get it."

Really this one wasn't a surprise. The way everything had lined up made it almost inevitable, and he had more than a few hints about how to make this more consistent now. Bolt figured in a few decades he'd be able to make these at will! Which yes, he knew was a sign of Star Designer potential.

Bolt exhaled. "This is going to give me so much more trouble." He grumbled.

"The price of fame and fortune." Ves nodded seriously. "It is a heavy burden."

Sadly, Ves wasn't even joking that much in this case.
 
I077 New
The MTA didn't publicly state what they did with masterwork mechs. They simply purchased them when they occurred at a markup just short of mind-boggling. A singular Third Rate masterwork was enough to make a family rich for life, and the price only increased as you went up in tiers. With that sort of money people tended to just consider it akin to winning the lottery. Some people tried to investigate why the MTA made them a priority, but every study had been quite inconclusive, and the MTA got a little bit irritated if people tried to keep the mechs to themselves. Rumor had it that the MTA were simply mech fanatics. Masterworks were considered the most perfected version of that mech.

Most of the conspiracy theorists would be surprised to know that the fanaticism was actually a factor. It was one of three. The first factor was that the MTA loved mechs. The second was that masterworks made one more likely to become an expert. The third factor was that they gave pilots a small benefit against specific exotic effects the Komodo Sector was calling Glows.

Truthfully most MTA pilots in the know had a love-hate relationship with masterworks. They knew about the additional benefits. They also knew that being assigned to one of them meant you were in the group unofficially known as the Grey Team.

"Watch the fucking tar!" Captain Sinclair snarled out as he boosted his mech through the air and into the battlefield.

The masterwork command mech shifted and bounced off a ruined building, narrowly avoiding the tar in question. Another fellow wasn't so lucky, just touching it. The 'tar' gripped at his mech and began to crawl up the side in an unsettling manner. Sinclair used his hand-laser to shoot it off, ignoring the damage he did to the armor. Better dinged than letting that monstrosity get near the cockpit. He still heard the screaming from the last poor bastard that let that happen.

"Captain, status?" Command asked the man.

"Situation normal, all fucked up." The man snapped back. "Cultists have detonated something in the city that's left some sort of bioweapon that targets people. Seems another torture device." God he hated Grey Team.

"Roger that. Routing new asset." The command team replied back.

Captain Sinclair snorted as he flicked off the comm. "Routing new asset." That meant something new was being experimented with here, of course.

Several enemy mechs rose up out of the rubble. Drenched in the black tar-like substance, Sinclair really didn't want to guess what was going on with the internals. They were Second Rate at least, which meant he was on even terms. (The MTA had First Rates on call, but this was a Second Rate area with Second Rate mechs. You couldn't ascend without some challenge.)

A few shots towards the tar made Sinclair judge that it had hardened. He really hoped that the pilots were just alive and freaky. The alternative was dead and still screaming. He'd seen both.

Further contemplation was cut off by the new asset connecting to his comms. Sinclair raised his eyebrows at the speed. Not quite flying, but it was coming in fast. He couldn't say he disapproved of that, and it made the call make a bit more sense. If this new asset was built for quick reinforcement it made sense to route it rather than deploy it with the initial team.

He ordered his team back and away from the buildings as it came in. The enemy lurched and several fired. To his mild distress the fire left flecks of tar on the shots it hit. One zinged off his armor and he pressed his still hot laser weapon to it to burn it off. He didn't want to know what traces would do.

Then the asset was there and falling in. Sinclair cursed immediately. Had they not heard about the tar?!

The explosion of fire as it landed made the man blink. So they had. That was an interesting introduction. The mech's specs hit his implant. First Trumpet, a possible counter weapon towards incidents like this. Sinclair kept his opinions about that quiet. Those experimental mechs usually didn't work well.

"ABOMINATIONS!!!" The shout on loudspeaker made the captain groan just a bit.

He knew that voice. The pilot was a singular survival of another similar event. He ran on hate. He woke up wanting to kill these things. Good pilot, great potential, but so single focused that it was hard to work with him.

To his mild surprise the things cringed away from the shout. Sinclair shifted his mech and bounced into a better viewpoint. Some of the tar was moving away from the mech too. How and why was that happening? He almost missed how the new mech shifted and stabbed one of the lurching mechs before moving to the other one. He didn't miss how the victim lit up like a flashlight and then fell from that singular hit.

"Did they finally make a counter mech that works against this shit?" Sinclair had to ask before flicking to a direct channel as he watched the mech still. "You still with me soldier?"

"I am Captain." The man sounded oddly calm as his spear tapped at several points on the ground. Each tap cleared out the tar it touched. "Utterly enraged, but I will follow orders. These people did not deserve this end."

"No, they didn't." Sinclair grunted out. God Grey Missions wore at you. One or two more and he'd rotate out. It was always some horrific shit in a ruined city.

"Captain, possible perpetrator! We got a big thing being piloted by a talker!" One of the other men called out.

"Ranting talking or actual informational talking?" Sinclair asked back.

"The first. Standard 'I have the power and you are all fuel' rant."

Of course. This was distressingly common. "All men, we have the possible culprit. Standard mad-man, you know the drill. Expect-" And there went the Trumpet. "Heavy armor, high mobility, and possible physical enhancement on the pilot, if there is one." The monsters who did this sometimes merged into some large abomination.

This one looked like the latter. The men were doing a good job fighting it. The knight was in front taking the attention while the others were circling. Sinclair didn't like how much the tar was creeping up on the mechs though.

A blast of fire as the Trumpet landed cleared some of it. The way the mech almost screamed made the rest vibrate as if it was afraid. The abomination shifted to face the new mech immediately, spraying out more tar that slapped against the white armor, and then slid off as if terrified.

"You." The man in the Trumpet breathed out onto open mic.

Sinclair would not be shy to admit that the tone made him shiver just a bit. That wasn't just rage. It was something more than that.

"I see the lives you've stolen for that false power." The First Trumpet continued as it shifted around a tar projectile with a boost and then darted forward. "I see your cowardice." The mech stabbed and the spear flared with light so bright his camera had to dim it.

The abomination screamed and every single bit of tar moved towards it. It grew even as it staggered back and the spear strike flared with white light. More shots rained into it as it smacked the First Trumpet with a fist suddenly half it's size. The mech went flying, but the damage was little. It rattled off a few shots with its handgun and readied its spear again.

In reply the abomination tried to move away. Sinclairs team didn't even need to be told. The now clean knight rammed his shield into the side of the creature and it staggered. The others rained down all their shots. With the increased size they couldn't really miss, but the damage wasn't particularly large. It was very distracting though.

First Trumpet crackled. Willpower flared. "More words are worthless on trash!" The boosters flared and it flew up into the air readying the spear.

"Of course he ascends now." Captain Sinclair muttered with half a laugh.

As the spear dropped the beast screamed. It tried to block, but just a touch annihilated large portions of the tar-like substance that it was made of. For a moment Sinclair could swear he saw something impossible. Then the thing was nothing but ash and parts of metal.

"May your victims rest in peace." The Pilot of the First Trumpet said.

Ok, they'd found a counter to some of this cultist shit. Sinclair had to admit that he'd take the barely controllable pilots if this was the result. If they made more cultists scream he'd take an entire team of them.
 
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M210 New
As a Senior, it was Bolt's duty to mentor more designers. It was also his best available method of further advancement. To his understanding this was an intentional feature of the entire system. (He was pretty certain he had a bit more information than most Seniors.) Right now he had Sami and Herald. This was perfectly acceptable tradition wise. He planned on having more though, which was again perfectly acceptable. A Senior could have as many or as little as they wanted so long as they had some.

There was also a quiet understanding that there were different types of students. It went something like direct apprentices, general students, and simple sponsorships. Bolt had two of the first and two of the second at the moment. He'd be filling out a lot of the student parts next from the local Wrench Rats. This was due to the fact that the first crop of students that had learned in the mountain had reached the point where he could pick a few of them up if he wanted.

It was very likely that only one or two would be directly accepted immediately. He might not pick any of them! A lot of the new designers weren't particularly good, nor dedicated. Many were doing it just to help the family. This was perfectly acceptable. Olympus needed the technical expertise that came with learning to be a mech designer. They could get thousands of new designers and still have jobs non-designer for them. Learning under Bolt would require some serious dedication and would actually pull them away from other very necessary jobs. He'd do general lessons after they had some work experience and if any of them showed the necessary potential or motivation he'd mentor them individually.

Until then, it was time for Herald's first real lesson.

Now it has to be said that while the young man might not have been in the direct line of succession for a dynasty, he still had an ungodly amount of money he could spend. This also came with a very high standard of living and protection needs. Hence he'd come with a small fleet that would remain in orbit, and he'd travel up and down when needed. It wasn't optimal, but it was the best option they had and Second Rate technology meant that going up and down from orbit was relatively simple, fast, and safe.

"Now, I got a series of exercises you can go through after this, but I figured ya would want something a bit more... Meaty I suppose tha best word is." Bolt said as they walked along the dirt path.

"I am happy for whatever master would deign to give me." Herald said with a small nod of his head.

"Oph." Bolt grunted out. "Still not sure about that title there. Ain't a master, but I am supposed ta teach you. Hah." He laughed at himself.

Around them the ground was mostly brown dirt and the occasional mech part. It was scenic, if you liked seeing ruined areas. Most of the planet was this way even with the increased traffic and less war. A lot of places had been set aside for battles and training fights, and it was almost expected to leave a few parts behind nowadays. (It was a strange developing cultural quirk with no real origin.)

"If you have a better designation I would be glad to say it." Herald replied while they walked.

The young man reminded Bolt of an eager dog truthfully. One of those less intelligent ones that would gladly do anything with gumption and enthusiasm, if not sense. His schooling and scores reflected that. Herald was not a genius exactly. He was someone that loved mechs and worked hard to understand them, but he didn't get the flashes of intuition that others would. This meant the man was probably best suited using the Rational Development style, which could be an issue. Spiritual work required emotion as a primary focus. Bolt figured they could work around that though, and this was the first step he'd decided on.

"We'll think about that. First bit, ya got the list of what your contest mech had wrong with it?" Bolt asked.

"Yes. I have been reviewing it all and have a list of improvements." Herald replied back with a smile. "Thank you for that."

"Part o' me being yer teacher. Send me the list after this. We'll do one more review. My answers some exercises will be in my next packet. Practice that at your pace." Bolt almost ordered the man as they finally reached his destination. "For now, look over these mechs."

"Hm?" Herald stared at the wrecks in front of him.

"These are all Third Rate mechs that had to be decommissioned for a variety of reasons. All of em have a very small Glow." Bolt gestured to them all. "Three quarters of em are mine. Some are from Ves Larkinson. Others are those that have gathered a small Glow for some reason. Feel free ta visit whenever. For now, we walk around them. Ask questions."

"What is the goal of this lesson?" The young man asked promptly.

"Hah! This is getting a feel of things. Consider this yer playground." Bolt gestured to all the mechs around them. "Repair them, break them, take them apart and put them together different, whatever. These were slated ta be trashed so don't feel bad about doing whatever you like." Most of the Glows here were fairly weak. Just enough for the average person with no training to feel. "I'd say you could even take em up to your fleet, but that's really up to you."

Herald stared at them all before shaking his head. "There's a lot here. I don't think that would be feasible."

"There's a reason they're just on the ground here." Bolt paused at one of Ves' mechs. He could just barely feel the spirit behind it. The link was just at the cusp of being broken. "Learn what you can with this lesson. As you do the exercises if you want to challenge yourself try repairing one. My mechs would be the easiest. Ves' mechs will be picky, but work once you get it down. The others will be very tricky. If you want advice, visit Olympus and speak with the techs there. You're fully authorized, and can even hire a few for help if you need it."

"So you expect me to repair some?" The young man asked with a half eager look.

"No." Bolt's answer made his student pause momentarily. "You could come out of this having repaired none of them. You could completely destroy them all if you want. Let's put this another way. Here are a few Glows. Try to get a feel from them."

"I feel I must remind master that many people have tried to do that and all of them have failed." Herald replied quietly and calmly, which was actually a little impressive. Such pushback was actually very good from a teaching perspective.

The Senior nodded at his student in approval. "Yep. None of em had me and the exercises you'll do. Let's say... Six months. Spend that long working on this project and studying. If ya don't feel like this is giving you the right answers or ya need more work lemmie know. You can ask to meet me whenever. It's what I'm here for."

Herald stared at the ruined mechs he now technically owned. Bolt expected some dismay, or perhaps some wonder about the timeframe. Instead he saw just an eager desire to try. It wasn't ambition. It was the look of someone that saw a challenge and wanted to see how well they could do. The Senior found this more than acceptable.
 
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