Eighteen months later…
Above a small moon in the orbit of Iritum, a repurposed cargo vessel opened its bays to the void. Lights shone from the interior, illuminating a debris field; hundreds of rocks, primarily industrial refuse with a smattering of asteroids captured by gravity, littered the designated testing area. Although not unnavigable by any means, the location was nonetheless a travel hazard.
Inside the bay, three machines stomped to the ledge, staring out at their obstacle course. Each one was bipedal shaped, approximately twenty meters tall from claw-like foot to the peak of the heads. In their three-fingered hands were rifle shaped blocks with laser rangefinders installed, blank faceplates slowly turning to observe the area. None had paint on their armor save for ID markings on the shoulders, the plate itself only served to protect the internal machinery from micro-impacts.
Externally, the blocky form resembled that of a GM, but only moderately fitted onto its frame, giving the appearance of being tossed together rather than properly designed. Like the armaments, it was merely a placeholder for functionality's sake. Once the production models were finished, these would be mothballed, but for now, they were the best units to use.
All that mattered for this test was that the many small jets on them worked, ones on limbs gently flung the trio off the ship, getting a small distance away before the larger backpack thrusters ignited. Bright blue plumes erupted from the back, sending the trio flying into the testing ground.
Unit One flew straight, heading towards the zone at a high speed. Unit Two at its flanks was slower, but veered left to right, then up and down, its head turning to observe as much as it could. Unit Three was more adventurous, arching over its counterparts in a wide cartwheel, turning over to track the ship hanging behind. It righted its course as they approached, holographic markers in its cockpit telling the pilot it was time.
Breaking formation, the prototype mobile suits shot through the field. Pivoting, twisting, dodging around the dense belt, Unit Three weaved through the obstacles with precision, purposefully going through the worse patches compared to its comrades, who weren't slouches either. Unit One dodged around rock after rock with precise jets which wasted little fuel, maintaining a solid buffer from it and the obstacles, while Unit Two made an effort to get unnecessarily close. At one point, it fired jets in reverse to slow down, lagging behind the others to kick off an asteroid.
Once the three were well inside the field, contraptions popped up on certain rocks; signal markers borrowed from starfighter training zones flashed bright lights, cueing the mobile suits to bring up their 'weapons' in response. Being the most cautious of the trio, Unit One zeroed it's rifle on the marker, needing only minor adjustments before an intense but nondestructive laser flashed at the target.
Unit Three spun in a cartwheel, whipping around as fast as its magnetic coating applied limbs could allow, its pilot ignoring the warbling safety alerts as he hit one marker after another. Striking a balance was Unit Two, who was quick to launch himself from one location to another after each shot, carrying the makeshift training weapon in a two handed grip for better accuracy, although they could nail a marker beneath him with one hand. Icons popped up on the 360° panoramic display, allowing him to locate targets as fast as the software could identify them.
All the movement within the field was not without risk, made worse as all three prototypes jetted closer to the debris than was strictly necessary. Thanks to their showboating, Unit Three suffered an impact; a lump of stone the size of a human civilian car tumbled errantly, right into his flight path. The head unit whipped around after maneuvering jets fired, a couple of seconds too late to avoid the asteroid.
Bluish light flashed a few meters from the hull, the hazy outline of an oval bubble flashing in the hemisphere where the rock hit, deflecting what could have been a severe blow. Correcting its flight, Unit Three righted itself as Unit Two jetted closer, using far more care than their partner in landing on a larger rock, flaring jets pushing it towards the gas giant. Unseen to the naked eye, comm lasers pulsed rapidly between the pair; a measure which was not strictly necessary, as the modulated fields over their fusion reactors kept M-particles contained. A modification for this demonstration for the observation staff. Unit Three swiveled its head, its blank faceplate offering the equivalent of a glare.
Once they completed the course, all three mobile suits returned to the ship. Unlike her counterparts, Unit One flew over the belt as opposed to flying through it once more. Fuel meters were still well in the green, so there was little chance that either machine would need a tow, even with all the unnecessary maneuvers going on. With this route she would be last even at a higher velocity, inertial dampers reducing what should have been a fatal fifteen Gs of acceleration to a mild pull. Once the design kinks were worked out, twenty or even thirty times standard gravity would hardly be felt.
They did the detour for two main reasons: first was so the observers could see the mobile suit's raw speed without objects in the way. Second was so the pilot could zoom in on another testing ground several hundred kilometers away, magnifying specks of light into visible, if blurry, images. Ordinarily, this kind of move would mean a stern talk with her CO, possibly followed by a dent to her security clearance; but since the two programs were so closely intertwined (and the personnel involved in the MS development team weren't turians), they grudgingly tolerated such breaches. She rarely abused her privileges, but right now curiosity was worth a 'chat' about security.
At the same time as the mobile suits flew, further down the belt a winged ship turned towards an asteroid which was several hundred meters across. The hundred and eighty meter long turian vessel, a frigate according to their ship classifications, yawed to the side as it closed in on its target, inadvertently baring an obvious modification to the observer: twin banks of three elongated cannons were placed under the ship, lacking all the necessary modifications it needed to store them. Like the mobile suit, functionality came before refinement.
Glowing light gathered at the ends of the barrels, and as the screens automatically darkened for the flash, vibrant red beams launched from the ship. Seconds later, the twin streaks impacted the asteroid, cleaving through stone as if it weren't there, it buried burning rock and whatever minerals within while it cracked apart. Seconds later, another volley, then a third launched, hitting different locations for the same result. A single barrage cut apart the asteroid into chunks of glowing hot debris, intentionally missing a shield generator rated to cruiser grade protection; these ship mounted cannons cleaved through the kinetic barriers slightly less easily than stone.
Imagining that kind of damage inflicted on a krogan warship was certainly food for thought.
Unit One was last as expected. Units Three and Two were already docked to their berths by the time it arrived, coasting into position with little need of the assisting eezo tethers. Bay doors closed while the machine powered down, staff floated in once they were blocked from space. Mechanics swarmed over the mobile suits, checking everything: armor condition, joint wear, thruster functionality, fuel status. Every single component was being inspected, gathering as much information as possible from the technical demonstrators. Anything that could help refine the new turian made mobile suits was being studied, the collated data soon to be studied.
The hatch opened while they worked. The female human in a normal suit climbed out among the void sealed turians, getting some glances as her comrades similarly disembarked. She exchanged a few words with a mechanic via the translator, then launched towards the airlock before the others arrived, finding a turian waiting at the door. Clawed gloves caught her, then the men, following them inside the tiny room.
Once the doors closed, artificial gravity asserted itself, bringing all four down at slightly above one standard G, which was noticeably higher than the native Digeris gravity. Hissing jets cycled air into the room, swiftly bringing it up to survivable levels. Here the quartet popped off their helmets, exchanging stuffy recycled air for marginally higher quality atmosphere outside, still enough for them to take breaths.
"Huh, that went well." Doctor Armax shook his head, rubbing his claws over his frill.
"They didn't break down this time. Man, if they did now…" Ensign (provisional) Chuck Keith shook his head, idly messing with his glasses, until his counterpart ribbed him.
"Relax, both of you. You flew like grannies anyway. It wasn't like you really put these beauties through their paces." Ensign (provisional) Billy Hickam smirked, as if he didn't crash into an asteroid by his own recklessness.
Team leader Ensign (provisional) Christina Mackenzie just shifted her weight, sighing while the doors opened into the ready room. "Hope the brass likes what we did."
Walking away from the airlock, the party shuffled towards a cluster of turians dispersing from a projector, muttering amongst themselves once the display was over. Screens to the sides rolled pages of data regarding the demonstration, raw and processed alike as per Navy R&D procedure. Not every observer had the training to analyze the information, but having it out like this available ensured greater transparency.
For many of the turians, a high proportion of them wearing plainclothes decorated with all manner of insignia instead of armor, the video feed of mobile suits zooming through the debris field was adequate. Such as one turian, clapping her claws together as she disengaged from a conversation.
"Excellent, riveting I'd say." She said warmly as all four straightened up, swiftly delivering salutes until a wave relaxed them.
"Admiral Taros, you flatter me, but the humans deserve the credit. The praise should go to them." Armax quickly spoke on their behalf.
"I intended to. Primarch Quintus promised that these new Levana machines would be good, and thanks to you three, he delivered." Dispatched from Fleet Command Headquarters at Palaven, Rear Admiral Taros nodded approvingly. A middle-aged female with blue and white markings, she acted friendly during the previous briefings but never missed a detail.
"As the good doctor mentioned, you are a flatterer." Hickam waved with a smile.
"It's deserved this time. I confess I wasn't really expecting much from all that mobility emphasis, but you showed that I was wrong. I have to ask, how does the Levana operate compared to what you're used to?" Taros clicked her mandibles.
"Oh, uh, it's different, I guess. I mean, I have a broad grasp of how mobile suits can vary from my aggressor training days. These things are…" Keith scratched his hair with a frown.
"Speedy. That's how I'd word it." Mackenzie helped. "The Levana moves fast. The thrusters, the limbs, sensors, you have to be careful or it'll spin out of control. But once you have the hang of it, it's simple." She spoke a little quicker when Taros laid her gaze upon her.
"Yep, once the production models are done, I bet you can train anyone on it." Hickam jumped in as well.
Taros grunted. "I just might take that bet. Now come, I'm sure Li wants to shower you all with praise."
The hum of conversation shifted slightly as they approached, several observers peeking at the aliens in their midst. A mixture of military officials and their analyst staff, the twenty-three turians were brought here for the demonstration, to evaluate if the program was worth the funds, and to consider whether or not it should advance to the next stage. The level of interest was far lower than when the first beam cannon equipped frigate took its maiden flight four months ago, its design kinks even now being worked out for the production line, but nonetheless most of the group showed intrigue at this mobile suit project.
Near the back of the room Primarch Quintus was chatting away with an engineering firm manager, a glass of weak alcohol in hand while a somewhat awkward Nina and a very uneasy Karla hung back, sipping purified water and allowing him to handle PR. He chuckled while the pilots and the admiral walked closer, shifting his prosthetic arm to wave off a statement.
"Heh, I wish I could say that the team is that good. But for the time being, eighty seconds is the maximum firing speed they can out of those cannons. It takes time to crunch particles to the right state, energy needs are enormous, and the heat is horrendous, of course. They're exploring some alternatives like pre-charged packs like on the MS weapons but you know-ah, Admiral!" Quintus visibly picked up, sparing a fast click of his jaws for the other turian. "Sorry Servros, I'll email you the data later. If I forget, just contact my secretary. Anyway, Syvana, as lovely as always. And as for you, my dear test pilots, do spill the pellets. I wanna hear everything." He warmly greeted while the other turian left, allowing the human women to sigh in relief.
"The test went splendid, Primarch, as planned." Machenzie said on their behalf.
"And what a test you showed. Congratulations, all of you. That includes you two." Admiral Taros pointed behind him.
"Oh, it's nothing." Karla waved off with a blush.
"Nonsense it's nothing. A couple years ago you didn't understand our language at all, now you built these machines? I only wish I got to see this 'Project X' of yours fly as well." Taros wistfully shook her head.
"My deepest apologies, Project X has had some temperamental surges with its reactor. I couldn't authorize its launch in good conscience." Nina winced.
"And me as well, I bear the responsibility for that fault. New designs always have issues, but I was certain it was solved." Armax bowed his head.
"Ah, forget it. What matters is that the mass production prototypes work fine. Sure, seeing that 'Gundam' flying through the course would be a treat, I won't pretend otherwise. But ultimately it's just a testbed. Titans will return to Palaven before we have to deploy it." Quintus laughed a couple of seconds longer than necessary when Mackenzie, Hickam, and Nina simultaneously cleared their throats.
"You're right Li, on all counts. Still, when you get it running, be sure to contact me. You know, I just might exercise my privileges to ride along… joking." Taros chuckled at the shocked looks the humans shared, as well as the omnipresent bodyguards at the entrances visibly quivering. "While I have you here, I need to borrow you for a bit. There's some catching up I need to do."
"Of course, ah, hold this." Quintus put his glass in Mackenzie's hand, to her visible confusion.
Now free, he strode a few paces away from the gathering. Instead of following Taros to the observation port, he halted in the middle of the room so he could clap his claws together.
"Esteemed guests, it is my greatest pleasure to show off the fine work our very own Digeris based research and development teams have done. I hereby take credit for organizing them…" Quintus paused at a short, live ripple of chuckles, waving his arms at the humans and Armax. "And I give thanks for each and every team member responsible for this achievement. Doctor Armax, Doctor Uraki, Doctor Lorenz, Doctor Kasshu who unfortunately couldn't make it tonight, and who can forget these excellent test pilots?"
Conversation shifted once more as the trio were put on the spot until Keith loudly cleared his throat. "Ah, happy to help."
"I hope this demonstration was to your liking. I look forward to hearing your thoughts once we return to Digeris. Thanks and enjoy the flight." Quintus waved on the short walk to the observation window, sweeping his gaze while conversation buzzed. There was no visible sign from inside, but the view through the windows had the stars coasting by.
He stayed cheerful and relaxed until he leaned against the wall, facing a similarly resting Taros, who clicked her mandibles. "Show off."
"You know it. While you're here, how's Anto doing?" Quintus shifted, glancing to confirm nobody was paying them any mind; a visiting Commodore Kuril was the first to speak face to face with the test pilots, nodding while Keith gestured about what he guessed his old job entailed. The 79th Flotilla was still in system for the time being until the overhauls to the hulls were complete, augmenting the rather anemic Castellus defense forces.
"A deckhand aboard a merchant marine vessel, running supplies from Trebia to Mactare. You should see him the next time you visit Palaven. He's so proud of his dress uniform, and you would not believe how much grease he gets soaked in." Taros shook her head.
Quintus wiggled his prosthetic with a chuckle, glancing a few more seconds before lowering his tone. "So…?"
"My report is going to be glowing, but you knew that already. Had to scribble in a bunch of nitpicks, lest they think that I'm shilling for your pet project a little too much." Taros lowered her tone as well, nodding to a turian on the outskirts of the party, a dour faced one who rarely talked and instead jotted notes on a datapad. "See that guy? I had to take the most stuck up analyst I could find, so High Command would actually read it. He's a smart one, but also a humorless robot."
"Does that stick up his cloaca hurt his throat?" Quintus eyed him pouring over the flight data rather than asking for input from the pilots.
"Necessary sacrifice. Your administration isn't looked on that fondly you know, gotta be careful with who you call in." Taros faced him as Quintus sighed.
Shifting his weight, he snickered. "Maybe I should talk to some maintenance staff about his shuttle. He can face some delays-"
"Don't even suggest it Li. I mean it, not even as a joke." Taros lost all trace of levity. "They know you and I go back. Between that factory safety failure I helped you bury and who Anto's father is, there's more than enough shit to bury the both of us. Even with the personnel shortages, we're this close to being put in a labor camp."
"Fine, won't do anything to him. Promise." Quintus waved and sighed. "Alright then. Be real with me."
"Real? I overplayed how blown away I was by the flight. It's certainly impressive, but not this paradigm shift humans treat these mobile suits as. Being a prototype doesn't make that fact go away." Her tone was flat while he winced at every word.
"Surely they can look beyond the test models? I mean, you know history, the first aircraft were rickety hunks of junk." His quiet tone was near pleading.
"I can yeah. Prototypes, new weapons, new tricks with praefco particles, blah blah, it's still not something High Command is going to lose their minds over. It's a great thing you had sense enough to keep from promising too much. But, since those beam cannons are so good, and your team achieved excellent results under budget, High Command is willing to try them out. A few of the Admirals I spoke to said the concept has potential." Taro stared while Quintus coughed.
"That analyst isn't going to be too harsh about cutting corners? You know how much time the team saved by repurposing fighter engines instead of building new ones?" Quintus looked worried.
"It'll be on his report, and mine. Nitpicks, remember?" Taros glanced out the window, to where the distant lights of Banna and Texas colonies orbited a moon; there were two smaller bunches than six months ago. "All this said, if I were you, I'd get in touch with the humans for trainers and put together a squadron. No guarantees it'll see widespread deployment, but High Command is going to give mobile suits a test run."
Quintus dipped his head and breathed a sigh. "Great, that's a gigantic relief. Now I have a chance to save my hide."
"And show off to our allies that we're good people, so we can get more resources and technology from the Citadel, and just maybe talk those Volus aliens into another financial deal. Not everything has to revolve around your woes. On that note, where are the human leaders? I would have guessed they would want to see how their efforts paid off." Taros shifted her weight, standing upright to roll her shoulders.
"Busy with their own affairs. If you wanna see them for yourself, schedule a meeting a day in advance. They're kinda twitchy about surprise visits." Upon spotting Mackenzie approaching, still holding his drink like it was a bomb, Quintus cracked his neck to stride off.
Taros watched him for a moment, seeing Quintus snatch his glass from the human's grip with an over dramatic flourish, then immediately pivoting to the quiet analyst. By her reckoning, that female human looked distinctly uncomfortable being gently prodded into answering questions, at least what she could decipher from body language. Quintis made up for her reluctance by being outgoing, trying to lay on the charm.
The war really was the best thing that could have happened to Quintus; Palaven had been cracking down on corruption hard. With how much of a meat-grinder the last few campaigns had been, the homeworld officials had been burning out waste as much as they could. She knew he was dirty. There was no way Digeris could have so few domestic issues without some greased claws here and there, but so long as the tithes were met and no uprisings occurred under his watch, they tolerated his actions. For now.
Under her breath, she mumbled. "If you're lucky, you'll get a 'but also' on your historical record. You idiot."
Glancing outside again, Taros huffed. If she were lucky, she wouldn't have to be the one to arrest then execute him. Until that day came, she had reports to draft.
000
Two months later…
Tugs gently pulled the third station into position, six small vessels which aligned the seven hundred and fifty meter wide construct into position nearby Banna. As opposed to the plain slabs of the other stations, this was a spoked ring. Even as it was being transported, lights from welders lit up its hull, preparing to attach an array of mirrors being transported from the colony. In a week, they would drag an icy comet from the outer system, providing the building blocks of an agricultural station. Until it arrived, the station, donated by a coalition of engineering firms from Aephus, was being wired and made airtight.
As a shuttle gently dragged the armored reflectors from the dock, lights flashed within the bag as well, welders and torches systematically tearing out old equipment so newly fabricated components could be installed. Most of the workers were human, though several turians assisted with gear; some taught humans how to use the new technology, the rest merely helped with maintenance until the personnel were properly trained.
The same story was repeated on the two smaller stations orbiting nearby, old dry-docks given a new lease on life as homes for donated industrial machinery. Eezo technology, advanced computers, fabrication equipment centuries ahead of anything the new staff had. All was being studied, trained on, and projected to be copied within a decade. Currently, they were named Ptah and Tvashtr, the latter having an unexpected gift being towed into its bay: a stubby winged, four hundred and eighty meter long turian cruiser. Designated the Spirit of Taselus, it was an obsolete warship whose design predated the Rebellions. If not for the war, it would spend a few decades in a reserve shipyard before being scrapped, rather than being pressed into service with rear line fleets. A poor gift, but it was functional and easy to learn on, thus it would keep the Nile, Blue Valentine, and Oracion company for now.
Meanwhile, Texas saw plenty of traffic, including old barges taken from Sol, newly built copies constructed in the past year, and a dozen turian shuttles donated by a transport corporation headquartered on the planet Epyrus. The latter were significantly faster than the human made craft, at the cost of needing outside help to maintain. Altogether the fleet kept the lifeline between the stations alive, from moving passengers to hauling resources, swiftly moving around the lumbering helium skimmers bringing in gasses from Iritum.
One such shuttle was docked in a small bay inside the primary dock, showing turian markings rather than the painted icons the colonies used. Its passengers were loading their luggage while the turian official checked the manifest, ignoring one of the humans pausing a moment, tracking a rather batterer deep space cargo ship docking in the next bay, the airlock's disgorging a horde of chattering human workers. No shortage of other humans were waiting to meet them, seeking loved ones for hugs and warm greetings after being gone for six months; the first trial expedition of extrasolar contract work for the Digeris government, seven hundred miners and three hundred support staff, were home.
"Hey Bernie!" An off duty pilot snagged one maintenance technician out of the crowd, giving the tired blond man a bear hug, which he returned with a pat, keeping himself from slumping as a wrapped meal was offered. "Missed you, man! Here, I got you a treat."
"Ah thanks Al, you know I… uh." Enthusiasm met an unbeatable wave of horror, swallowing a gag and making the pilot blanch.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Ah, Al? This is, uh, some tasty-looking rice cake. I've uh, eaten rice almost every day for three months." He admitted, causing the pilot to gulp, cringe, and awkwardly rub the back of his neck.
A clap on Shiro's back took his eyes off the display, resetting his footing while glancing at the perpetrator, a freshly shaved Sanders slinging his duffel over his shoulder. "Hey, if you wanna back out, just say so."
"Nah, I'm good. Though I'm gonna be happy when Aina and the kids show up next month." Shiro slung his own bag, catching Matt Healy and a visiting Chuck Keith chatting about the training facilities, while Grissom was fumbling her luggage into a container; having the head of the anti-terrorism task force away wasn't a popular move, but she insisted on getting some flight time on the new production model mobile suits that were just finished.
"Yeah, you're planning on bringing the kids over?" Sanders followed him into the shuttle, picking a seat. Extra padding helped make them more comfortable, even if they were still a little oversized while they buckled in.
"Yep, they haven't said no yet." Shiro eyed how Sanders peeked out the window, slyly grinning and elbowing him. "Say, how's that new lady friend-"
"I'm not afraid of knocking on your stump." Sanders didn't look him in the eye, missing Shiro retreating so he could deflate. After a minute, he exhaled. "You know, it feels weird. Not having Karen around, I mean."
Leaning back, Shiro peered at the ceiling. "Yeah, its… you get so used to her being cranky, being a stickler for safety regs, and trying to beat up the Zekes. Now things are too quiet. I keep expecting to hear her barging in to yell."
"Don't mind the quiet honestly, just… you know she would love this job. Bet she'd want to test how armored these turian nuts are." Sanders cracked a small smile.
"Hehe, yeah, she'd be all 'what kind of blockhead hatched you' and beat up the trainees, or backseat drive until they could do handstands in an MS…" Shiro let out a small, forced chuckle.
A quick whistle cut through his mood, finding the turian official striding along the walkway. In the back, the hatch sealed closed with a hiss, a low rumble causing the view outside to turn away, too fast and way too quietly for any flight he ever went through.
"Alright everyone, there is a two-hour trip to Digeris orbit. As mentioned in the briefing, you'll have two weeks to acclimate yourselves before the trainees arrive. If you need anything, contact me. Understood?" As he spoke, the shuttle departed Texas, heading for the planet and the start of the turian mobile suit corps.