The Mech Touch

by Stayrr

Humanity has conquered half the galaxy and the Age of Mechs reigns supreme! Ves Larkinson lacked the genetic aptitude to become a famed mech pilot. Fighting against his fate, he studied mech design in order to express his love for mechs as a builder instead of a soldier. When Ves graduated from college, he returned to a new but empty boutique. Left with a small, newly founded mec

4. 61

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Ves was not immersed in the whole shuttle racing scene. As someone focused on mechs his entire life, the sleek personal transport shuttles that were capable of both atmospheric and space flight held little appeal to him. That did not mean others found them unworthy of their time.

In fact, lots of norms worshipped shuttles. They paid fanatical attention to each newly released shuttles and liked to customize and tinker their own vehicles in their free time. Adding some decorative lighting was just one of the ways a fanatic distinguished himself among his peers.

He looked over some footage on the galactic net and found it to be a basic concept. It could be as simple as adding a few colored stripes to adding in an elaborate artistic pattern. It impressed Ves that these hobbyists cobbled up evocative looks for their shuttles.

"I won't be able to get Vincent's approval if I half-ass this job."

The best-looking vehicles didn't necessarily have the most lights. Instead, the artists who customized them used patterns and other artistic tricks to maximize the impact of each streak of light. If Ves wanted to keep up, he had to be a little inventive.

"Hm, what would fit my Marc Antony?"

He left the galactic net and opened the mech design program. As a software developed by the MTA itself, it possessed elaborate features. Still, they were not on par with the Mech Designer System's own suite except for the projectors. The MTA's design studio incorporated high quality projection systems that could bring any image to life.

When the imposing image of the Marc Antony appeared in the middle of the room, Ves circled the projection and slowly considered his ideas.

The mech looked like an armored soldier. With its vapor-generated helmet crest and heavy rectangular shield, it looked purpose-built for war. Ves also chuckled to himself that it looked quite dashing. What he had to do now was to figure out a way to enhance the mech's cool factor without being too overboard. Luckily, most lighting systems are cheap and don't require a license. After all, they were mainly made to customize shuttles.

"Getting my hands on a suitable lighting system isn't hard. What's a little harder is that their toughness sucks."

He faced the same problem as with the cape. These kinds of accoutrements just weren't designed to accommodate a fighting machine. While there were a few systems designed for traffic control or rescue mechs that possessed a little more reinforcement, they fell short when put into active combat situations.

"Maybe I've been influenced too much by the way these lighting systems are applied to shuttles. I don't have to follow the exact same scheme for my mech."

He considered designing a standard scheme as well as add something extra. As a mech accumulated damage, it generally looked worse. In order to placate Vincent in the event he ended up in a real battle, Ves decided to use that property to add internal lighting that wouldn't be visible unless the armor got torn open.

As Ves knew his design best, he already had an idea how to structure the internal lighting. He had no trouble marking out many small areas where a small but powerful light source could be placed.

As the lights didn't really suck up that much energy compared to other systems, Ves didn't even bother with adding power cables to keep them running. Instead, he added wireless power transmitters nestled deeper in the mech to provide power without relying on delicate and easily damaged cabling.

To be certain it matched Vincent's standard of coolness, Ves tested out his change. When Ves used the design program's simulation module to simulate accumulating damage, he found the mech to be glowing increasingly red from the cracks in its armor. Against the backdrop of the mech's predominantly black coating, the ominous red glow enhanced the menacing aura.

Inspired by this savage look, Ves took up a sketching program and drafted a couple of lines on the mech's wireframe model. He predominately added jagged lines, akin to the stylized lightning bolts on the shield which he also sketched over with some light streaks. He colored it mostly red except for the lights on the shield, which were shaded a bright yellow.

When Ves stepped back and let the design program simulate the lighting scheme, he was impressed by his own work. The light scheme enhanced the ancient warrior theme of his mech. The sharpness of the jagged, diagonal lines gave the mech the impression that it was a war god descended from the heavens.

"Hm, though it looks good, I'm not sure if Vincent will like it. He has a very discerning taste."

To be safe, Ves spent an entire day wracking his brain for alternate design patterns. He slept, ate and showered at the room's basic living facilities but spent the rest of his time crunching his brain. Lucky got so bored that Ves activated the guide program to release a projected ball that flew around erratically for his cat to chase around.

His hard work allowed him to come up with a few viable looking designs. He made a white lightning bolt pattern to evoke a lightning god feel and a green curving pattern to contrast nicely with the red accents. He finished his design session by forming a yellow pattern that evoked speed.

As he projected the different lighting schemes side by side, he had to admit that while they did the job, they fell short of greatness. Ves simply lacked the practice and proficiency to go beyond the basic one-color lighting schemes. Mixing two or three colors together in a harmonious whole was a lot more difficult than he thought.

"If Vincent is really dissatisfied by my attempts, he should just hire his own artist." He concluded. As someone who looked familiar with the shuttle racing scene, Vincent must have his own contacts.

He sent the sketches to Vincent and called it a day. He'd been staying in the design studio for more than a day now. Thinking of all the trouble he went through so far, he hoped Vincent was good for the money when Ves finally delivered his product.

After stepping out of the design studio, he called up an automatic guide that led him to the MTA's visitor cafeteria. Just because he ate some instant rations didn't mean he appreciated them. He looked forward to grabbing a more proper bite.

As thousands of pilots, designers and technicians visited the MTA each day in Dorum, its dining facilities were top notch. Those with more discerning tastes could enter the nearby restaurant while those who were fine with cheaper food prepared by the best bots visited the cafeteria. As Ves picked a couple of his favorite meats, he took a random seat and started to dig in.

Just as he finished chewing, a firm hand clapped his back.

"Ves! What a surprise to see you here!"

Ves turned around and saw a young woman he hadn't seen since his last visit to Bentheim. "Charlotte?"

Charlotte Hoffmeister grinned as she bumped the seat next to him and hopped on it. She dropped her plate of food with a small clatter, causing bits and pieces of food to spill to the side.

"We haven't been in touch for a while. So what are you up to?"

He shrugged. "I'm in the process of customizing my first commercial variant mech for a client. I recently completed a sale a few weeks ago and now I'm here to meet the needs of my second client."

Charlotte raised her eyebrow in appreciation as she gnawed at her chicken drumstick. "Looks like your business is already up and running. That's nice. There's way too many dumbasses who think they're all that but flounder when they finally start on their own."

"I was luckier than most." Ves said reservedly, not wanting to disparage his fellow designers. After all, before the System came he was one of them. "I'm not doing great, but I'm sure I can overcome my troubles if I work hard enough."

"That's the spirit!" Charlotte pounded the table with her palm. "Look at me. Despite coming up second to a side tournament, I'm one of only three new recruits for the MTA's Enforcement Division from this year's graduating class!"

"Oh, congratulations. No wonder you look so great in your new piloting suit."

Ves was genuinely impressed at Charlotte's accomplishment. The MTA's Enforcement Division might have a reviled reputation among outsiders, but mech designers in particular appreciated them for keeping the peace and deter shady manufacturers from stealing their designs. Their prestige was a step up from the Republic's own Mech Corps as their recruitment standards were incredibly stringent.

"I'm still a trainee for now, but you can bet I'm going to places you can't even imagine. Too bad I had to give the Kirby back to the academy. I miss that big old lug, even if it took a nasty beating in the tournament."

The two shared a few words on more inconsequential subjects before Charlotte had to go back to her training. "I'll see you around, Ves. Keep up the good work. I'll be sure to spread the word."

"Thanks a lot. I appreciate any help I can get."

Having met Charlotte reminded him he hadn't gotten in touch with any of his friends in a while. Of course, everyone drifted off to pursue their own career, but he should at least get in touch with Carlos now that he had the time. Ves dug up his name from his comm and called him up to see if he was available.

"Evening, Ves. Man, I thought you dropped off the edge of the universe. Look who's back!"

"Haha, I've been occupied with my own work, but I happened to be here on Bentheim for business. Do you want to meet up?"

"Sure! I know just the place to take you if you're visiting Bentheim for the first time. It's a must-visit attraction of our planet!"

Carlos sent a standardized set of coordinates to him that he could feed into a aircar service.

"I'll be waiting for you at that place!"

Shrugging, Ves finished his food and left the cafeteria. He boarded a small hovering platform to reach the exit of the complex faster. As he looked back at the imposing base, he sighed at the power of the MTA. They possessed military might far beyond even the best mercenary corps in the Republic.

After he hailed an aircar, he fed the piloting system the coordinates and let the car take him to where Carlos waited. He looked outside the window and admired the sprawling urban forest outside. Not even the dignified Rittersberg could ever compare to the liveliness of Bentheim.

The shuttle finally descended on the outskirts of Dorum. It turned out the coordinates Carlos fed was a large open-air mech colliseum, with several smaller arenas placed around the main attraction. It somewhat resembled the stadium and convention center where the YTE was held, but this one was obviously privately owned.

The mood here was much more dynamic. The abundant visitors all wore branded clothing that featured their favorite mechs or celebrities. Even from this distance Ves could feel the savage thrum and collisions of real mechs battling it out in front of an audience. The cost of operating this enterprise must run up to the billions, but from the amount of fans that visited the matches, it evidently ran very smoothly.

His friend waited just inside the gate. After paying the admission fee, Ves met up with Carlos and hugged him loosely. "Good to see you again. How's it going at work?"

"So-so. I'm still learning the ropes. It takes time for me to move up in such a large organisation. But look at you. You're a successful mech designer now, having at least one sale under your belt. Most of the other people from our class are really jealous at you, you know."

Ves wasn't bothered by the thoughts of others. "If they think they can do better, then let them start their own businesses."

Naturally, that was nearly impossible. Both of them smiled at each other as they knew that. Carlos shook his head.

"Well, enough about that. Let's head inside. I've been saving up these promotional tickets for the amateur ring for a year. Might as well use them up now."

They talked about what they had been doing since the last time they met. Ves talked about some of the challenges he faced. When he talked about the excitement of building a mech with your own hands, Carlos looked envious.

"Man, you're much further ahead in your career than me. I'm still stuck in the same old drudgery of checking mechs for faults."

"It's been a few months. Hang in there. With your skillset, you should expect a promotion soon enough."

Ves and Carlos had reached the entrance of the smallest an shabbiest looking arena. As cleaning bots were cheap nowadays, Ves figured the organizers intentionally kept its walls weathered. The scanners at the gates allowed them entry once Carlos showed his tickets. They climbed the stairs and entered the interior of a wide arena that could host up to a hundred thousand people if a major event was going on.

As it was just a normal day, the arena was only filled up to a third of its capacity. Frankly speaking, the promotional tickets Carlos won from who-knows-where we're not all that valuable. Ves could easily afford entry now that he potentially earned millions with each mech sale. Still, he wasn't used to being wealthy, so he still appreciated Carlos' gesture.

They found a pair of seats that brought them close to the middle of the arena. Several fans were chugging their beers or eating their junk food as they yelled at the duelists in the arena. Apparently, two light mechs were on stage. As they were rather fragile, they both played very conservatively. It led to quite a few boos from the disgruntled audience.

"Man, I always hate it when these light mechs are dancing around all the time. It's like they're competing on who will run out of energy first."

"Light mechs might be cheap, but it still costs quite a bit to repair any damage." Ves noted. "Personally, if I were to bring a mech onto a stage, I'd go for a mediumweight."

It was easy to say this, but not every pilot had the means to buy a good medium mech. Most of the lower rungs were unable to cough up enough money for a decently armored mech.

As Ves keenly knew, the most expensive component of any mech was its armor plating. In today's manufacturing environment, as long as the materials weren't too exotic, any delicate or intricate machinery could be replicated with 3D printers and other advanced manufacturing machines. However, no matter how advanced mankind's production capabilities had grown, they could not make gold out of lead.

Good materials led to great end products, and nowhere was this more evident than the current state of mech armor. Tricks such as modular armor, quantum-scaffolding and other buzzwords hadn't measured up to their promises. In the end, armor developers resorted to the simplest solutions of finding the best base materials to work with. The Milky Way galaxy was immense, and many unconventional stars proved breeding grounds of highly desirable exotic materials.

Natural, due to the special circumstances in which they were formed, they were also notoriously scarce. That meant that the mining companies that exploited these valuable mining areas made a killing. Ves heard a rumor in which a top-of-the-line mech from a first-rate superstate could cost up a trillion bright credits. That was an unimaginable sum of money in the perspective of the Bright Republic, but it would only cause a citizen of a superstate to blink their eyes.

In any case, Ves and Carlos talked a bit about their own preferences while casually paying attention to the slow-going dance-off on stage.

However, Ves felt a nervous tension from his friend. Evidently, Carlos had another purpose in mind when he asked to meet up with Ves. He wasn't even interested in the matches at all. No matter how exciting the amateurs fought on stage, Carlos never batted an eye.

Ves wondered what was going on. Carlos couldn't be in trouble, right?

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"So anyway, I didn't only invite you here to talk about old times. To be honest, I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?" Ves raised his eyebrow. "What's that?"

Carlos stopped paying attention to the match entirely and turned to face Ves with the most serious face he had ever seen on his friend.

"You know what kind of job I have now. Even if you say I'm likely to move out of my current position, it will take many years, perhaps even decades before I go anywhere near the development process of a new design And that's only if I resign and switch companies, as the current one I work for is just a wholesaler which buys completed mechs from other manufacturers."

"You can't rush a career, Carlos. I've seen you studying for nights on end back in college. You've got a good head on your shoulder. Any employer will be bound to appreciate your talents."

"But I can't wait that long." Carlos shook his head. "A successful mech designer always starts his career when he's young, we both know that. So what if I wait until I'm in my 80s or 90s until a company sees fit to include me in their research and development department? I'll be playing second fiddle to a 30 or 40-year old who is either a genius or who had the right connections for the job. I don't want to be an expendable cog in the machine."

Ves had an idea what Carlos was going for with his little rant. He wasn't sure if he liked it. "That's the way the world works. The ones with the silver spoon in their mouths already have their foot in the door. Us regular people need to either take risks or just keep working out butts off to close the disparity between us and them. There's no shortcuts."

Carlos' eyes burned. "I admire you Ves. I already said that, but it bears repeating. You've taken that gamble. You looked at that impossibly tall mountain and successfully climbed the top. From getting the equipment together to receiving a couple of production licenses as grants, you got through every obstacle in the way of starting your wholly owned mech business. I'm not like you. I can't take climb in your footsteps. But..."

"You want to work for me. Accept a lower position under my employ and grow along with me."

The pair stayed silent for a time. Carlos nodded then, looking a little bit pained as he had to accept a status that was lower than Ves. "I can't climb the mountain myself, but if you drop down some rope, I can pull myself up."

"I've been doing fine on my own so far. What makes you think I need an extra hand?" Ves asked with a bit of reservation in his tone.

"Having worked with many mech manufacturers delivering crappy mechs, I know a bit how they work. Someone like you can't shoulder all of the jobs of running an independent mech design and fabrication studio alone. You need someone to do the grunt work of fabricating mechs at the very least."

Ves released a sigh. He had indeed been thinking of hiring a fabricator "I appreciate your honesty in telling me your ambition. But it's going to be awkward if I'm going to be your boss. I'm looking for someone in the near future to fill up the fabricator position in my workshop, but since it concerns certain trade secrets, I'm hesitant in letting anyone else work under my direction."

"Then that's an even better reason to consider taking me under your wing. You know me and I know you. We've been pals for years. I'm a hundred percent sure you don't trust anyone more than me when it comes to getting your hands dirty with mechs."

He had a point. Ves did not have too many friends in the mech circles. Hiring a stranger was a complete gamble as far as he was concerned. He could spend an excessive time screening potential employees and still get burned by them. Sure, with the current laws in place, he possessed a lot of means to make abusers pay for it, but enforcing a punishment after the deed was done did not help him out in the long run if certain secrets were exposed.

Right now, Ves relied on two advantages to grow his nascent business. His implementation of the X-Factor was a delicate secret that if exposed might change the mech industry substantially if other designers could be convinced of its existence. However, that progress would come at a cost to his own competitiveness. He wasn't so good-natured enough to expose the secrets of the X-Factor to the public.

Besides, there might be a small but highly placed circle out there who knew about the X-Factor but kept it among themselves. If Ves somehow leaked the details of their golden goose, they may decide to make an example out of him. Ves wanted to avoid attracting such high profile attention.

As for the other advantage, the System could absolutely not be exposed. He had run through all the possible scenarios hundreds of times, and none of them gave him a good end.

"I need to think about it. I'm still working on my second ever sale. It's still too early for me to consider a hire. I'll reconsider your proposal once my mech business picks up in sales."

That gave Ves an excuse to hold off Carlos. He didn't want to reject him directly, but neither did he want to bring Carlos back to Cloudy Curtain immediately.

Having no other choice, Carlos slumped and nodded his head. "Okay. I'll be waiting for your answer. It's not like my current career is going anywhere in the meantime."

After moving past this conversation, Ves tried to lift their spirits and started to comment on the happenings in the amateur ring. As the matches went by, he noticed a pattern in the pilots that chose to exhibit their combat skills in the lowest ring.

Half of the mech pilots who performed in the amateur ring were often young rich hotshots with too much money and not enough sense. As such, the younger pilots often took daring risks, as the newborn calves are not afraid of tigers.

Ves found their mechs to be interesting. They ran almost the entire spectrum of close-to-medium ranged mechs. As this arena was fairly small, snipers and artillery mechs had no place in this setting. Still, with their souped up mechs adorned with various holographic stickers of tigers or pinup girls, these mech pilots behaved as if they were stars.

However, old ginger is spicier. The other half of the pilots on stage often consisted of veterans too impaired to serve in the field. Often suffering from various wounds, these grizzled pilots were not resigned to spend the rest of their days in retirement.

While their mechs were often cheaper compared to the rich kids, their extensive proficiency and battle experience made up for their gear. As they had more to lose, they often fought very conservatively, to the point of giving up the match before they were about to suffer catastrophic damage.

The contrast between the two types of pilots often led to the most exciting matches. The ultra-aggression of the younger generation often pressured the more cautious older generation into defending against an onslaught. Both the attacker and defender relied on different skills to capitalize on any mistake their opponents made.

"That's Leviticus coming up on stage!" Carlos yelled as he rose up from his seat. "He's my favorite pilot in the amateur ring."

Ves beheld the pilot and mech that caught the eye of his friend. Even without his expertise in mechs, he could tell the old machine was on its last legs. The armor was such a crazy patchwork of plates that it was hard to tell if there were any original plates left. The stride of the mech also looked uneven, as if the left leg held a fraction less power than the right one. As for its weapons, it obviously used to hold shoulder mounts, but only crude holes remained where they sat. It wielded a crudely shaped staff that might have been a reshaped construction beam as its only weapon.

"That's a really terrible mech. Why are you rooting for this guy?"

"Man, you don't know about Leviticus?" Carlos looked at Ves as if he was an alien. "Man, you've been living off the grid for too long. Is that backwater planet so remote you can't even keep up with the arena anymore?"

"Hey, I've been busy with work. I quit following the scene a half year ago."

Carlos shrugged and explained his fascination for Leviticus. "Anyway, this guy's special. Unlike all the other active pilots, he's a borderline potentate. He's really unlucky in that regard."

That surprised Ves, causing him to look at Leviticus and his mech a second time. Now that he looked closer, the movements weren't as fluid as a regular mech. The minute stutters and jerky shifts were the typical symptoms of either a malfunctioning neural interface or a pilot that possessed bad aptitude.

"They say that lacking the aptitude to pilot a mech isn't the worst thing in the world." Carlos continued, completely forgetting for the moment that Ves used to aspire to be a pilot as well. "There's a fate worse than being a norm, and that is being a potentate that barely passes the threshold."

"I see. Leviticus shouldn't be able to pilot a mech this good if he's a borderline case."

"That's because he's putting in twice as much work into piloting than any other potentate. You can't imagine the long hours he spent trying to speed up his response. If a regular pilot operates at a hundred percent, he's overclocking himself to perform a hundred-and-fifty percent of his potential."

That genuinely sounded impressive. He looked as the scrappy medium mech bowed at its opponent, a gleaming blue light mech that just happened to be the nemesis of Leviticus. The worst thing a pilot with a slowed response speed could encounter was a light mech that specialized in speed.

Yet still, more than half of the crowd still rooted for Leviticus, Carlos included. Ves was confused at everyone's enthusiasm. It was as if the possibility of Leviticus losing did not occur in their minds at all.

"What's up with the crowd?"

"Oh, you'll see. Don't think my man Levi can be beat so easily. He'll pull off a miracle, as he did many times."

The match started. Predictably, the blue light mech started to circle around the medium mech at close to the maximum possible speed. Leviticus stayed still, not even attempting to turn to keep up with the light mech's orientation.

Eventually, the opponent reached the rear of the medium mech and darted forward with its twin daggers ready. Yet before either blades struck, Leviticus caused his mech to fall over backwards. He did it in such a way that allowed him to place one end of the staff in a direct collision course to his approaching enemy.

The light mech tried to veer away, but Leviticus timed his improvised action just close enough for him to guarantee a hit. The light mech to its credit used the utmost of its maneuverability to shift its impact zone from the middle of its chest to its right shoulder.

A lot of people in the audience groaned as the staff managed to dig out a clump of armor but nothing else. Ves knew they didn't just groan for no reason. One of the more macabre attractions of the arenas was that fatalities were not uncommon.

If it happened once or twice, then so be it. But they happened so regularly that people recognized there was more going on. In fact, the safety measures built into each competing mech were of such an inferior standard that many suspected the owners of the arena deliberately cheaped out on them. It was a far cry to the extensive and reliable safety measures used to keep the YTE free from spilling any blood.

Nevertheless, the light mech hopped backwards and well out of reach of Leviticus. It took in the damage it suffered and started to calculate its options.

However, Leviticus did not give his opponent an opportunity to come up with another answer. With obvious effort, his mech started to jog towards the opponent. The light mech instinctively leaped backwards and continued to widen the distance in order to avoid getting caught.

The chase continued for several minutes, but Ves found it strange that Leviticus even attempted to chase. A medium mech could never catch up to a light mech, after all. His opponent realized that too, and started to calm down. Its retreating pattern became more exquisite and it always made sure never to get stuck in a corner.

"What's this guy up to?"

"Haha, no idea, but he always pulls something crazy that will tip the scales in his favor."

Looking closer, Ves recognized that Leviticus conserved his energy. He always made the best turns and moved to cut off the light mech with the least amount of steps. Meanwhile, the constant hopping around boosted the energy consumption of the light mech to an unsustainable rate.

"The energy reserves are only topped off up till twenty percent in the amateur ring, right?"

"Yeah, that hasn't changed. The last thing anyone wants to see is a battle of attrition."

In a real battle the mechs should be able to sustain their rate of consumption for a while. However, with just a limited charge going in the ring, a race to see who exhausted itself first always ended fairly quickly.

Indeed, the light mech's pilot seemed to realize his predicament, and stopped his endless running. He was facing the dilemma any light mech pilot faced when facing a superior opponent. He could keep running, but waste more energy than his opponent, or he could fight but risk coming off worse as his tonnage was smaller than the enemy's.

Eventually, he decided to compromise and made small, flanking attacks. Leviticus never seemed to keep up with the light mech's turns and dives, but with his lengthy if ugly staff, he always positioned it in just a way to force the light mech to abort his attack lest he impale himself onto the butt end of the staff.

"Damn, it's the weapons that decided this match even before it started." Ves commented, appreciative of Leviticus and his skillful use of his staff. "That light mech is not fast enough to go around the staff."

The light mech eventually decided to risk it all, and dove in deeper. The staff loomed before the lighter mech but its pilot clearly went in with a sacrifice in mind. It introduced a sideways motion in its approach, attempting to let the staff fall onto its left side. However, Leviticus somehow exploded in speed for just a fraction of a second. The staff managed to correct its path just in time for the light mech to get its power reactor squarely in the way of the weapon.

An enormous crunch sounded out as the light mech stopped in its track. The knives dropped as the staff end burst from its upper waist. The entire crowd went wild as they cheered for Leviticus. Some of them even screamed for blood.

Unfortunately for the thrill seekers, this particular light mech model hosted its cockpit in the lower waist. Only its power core got run through by the staff. If it was a cockpit, then it would have been a certain fatality. The arena's weak safety measures could never have stopped it in time.

Ves was pretty sure Leviticus had blood on his hands. Any seasoned gladiator couldn't avoid such occurrences, as it was simply too dangerous for them to hold back.

Leviticus slowed down his reaction speed now that the battle was over. With excruciating slowness, he pulled his mech's staff from the corpse of the other mech and let it fall to the ground. No one seemed to care such an action could have aggravated any injuries the opposite pilot suffered.

"So what do you think about my man Levi?"

"He's impressive. He manages to make the most out of his mech with minimal movements. He's the perfect heavy mech pilot."

Carlos nodded in agreement. "He's mentioned in his interviews that he's saving up his prize money for a good one. It will take a while, though. The amateur ring doesn't give out much rewards. It takes a lot of money to keep his current mech afloat."

A comm rung out. Ves lifted his wrist and saw that Vincent Ricklin was on the line. It was time for him to go back to work.

"I gotta go. My client is calling."

"Uhm sure. It was fun. I'll be staying here for a few more hours. Go ahead without me."

"Alright, see you later."

Ves picked up the call, hoping Vincent came with good news.

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"My man Ves, I received your files. I can't say I'm entirely satisfied with your work. The cape doesn't have any frills and the surface lighting schemes don't seem impressive at all. The only thing I found cool is the red lights installed underneath the armor."

Ves was afraid of that. Not satisfying his client meant his rewards for the mission could be reduced. "I have made my design choices with resilience in mind. Excessive frills will be the first thing that gets lost when your mech receives damage. It's better to keep a clean appearance that looks great both when it's pristine and when it has survived a battle."

The excuse was enough to cause Vincent to pause in his tirade. He frowned and thought over his words. "Alright, but I'm consulting a pro shuttle customizer artist for the lighting scheme. I still feel your designs are too basic. Heh, why didn't I do that in the first place. Your not an artist."

"If you are unsatisfied with my designs, feel free to turn to someone else." Though the System wouldn't like it, Ves agreed with Vincent's choice. "Just make sure the artist knows that mechs are machines that are meant to be put in the frontlines."

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say. As for getting permission and sourcing the materials, I'll let my assistant handle the details."

"That would be appreciated." Though he could purchase the extra materials himself, he'd be liable to get ripped off in the process. "In any case, I'm still in the conceptual stage of working out a design to meet your… third demand."

"I'm expecting to see your proposal by tomorrow. I need you to work on my new mech as fast as possible, within two weeks at least."

That knocked Ves off course. This was the first time he heard about any deadline. "Is it very urgent that I deliver your mech in that time?"

"Yes, it's super urgent! I've already got a bet going on. I'm going to show that bastard that I'm not scared or anything! I'm NOT a coward!"

"Yes, yes, you're very brave!" Ves said quickly, trying to avoid getting on the receiving end of a tirade. "Vincent, I'll get it done today and have a potential design for you to peruse by tomorrow."

"You'd better!"

The signal cut off abruptly, causing Ves to sigh with relief. He had been a little negligent in his duties. He thought he had plenty of time to consider all of his options and refine Vincent's dream mech step by step. The sudden hard deadline of two weeks put a sudden stop to his leisurely vacation on Bentheim.

He took Lucky with him and left the arena and its cheering fans behind. He hailed an aircar straight back to the MTA. After going through several security scans, he finally ended up at a design studio similar to the last one. He was ready to get back to work.

"Hm, a bulge, huh?" Ves considered as he summoned the image of his mech, now with a cape and some rudimentary light system. In his eyes, the mech already looked pretty masculine, in a knight in shiny armor kind of way. Adding an obvious bulge to the front waist would ruined the entire feel of the mech.

"Men who wore armor in those days never exposed their private parts to any danger. It's one of the most vulnerable weak points in a human body."

Mechs were pretty much the same way. Its central position just on top of the mechanically hungry legs made it a prime position to place the engines. As such, the waist and lower torso portion of a mech possessed plenty of armor already. It would be highly challenging to elongate the front section without impacting a mech's maneuverability in some strange fashion.

Unless he stuck something on it at a right angle. But then he'd ruin his reputation and get Vincent get arrested for indecency.

"I shouldn't be the only person who is dealing with this problem."

The mech is an imitation of the human form. Yet mech designers were content to wholly minimize any waist protrusions as much as possible in the name of efficiency. Perhaps Vincent had a point where he said that the lack of gender expression in a mech presented an obstacle to fully bonding with it in the process. If Ves simply put something subtle there, it might even improve the mech's X-Factor.

"But what if the pilot is of another gender?"

Ves could imagine a dissonance between the mech and the pilot should occur, but not too strong. Plenty of female and other gendered pilots pulled off fantastic performances in very masculine mechs. And while they are less common, his own feminine-looking Fantasia variant also showed that no male pilots ever performed much worse than the female pilots.

Still, he couldn't help but feel that gender did matter. Maybe this was the great wall that held him back from scoring higher than an E in terms of X-Factor. The instance that he earned a C-rating from the System must have been attributed to other factors. It might even be higher if Ves paid attention to his mech's gender in the first place.

"Is this the secret to obtaining a higher X-Factor?" Ves asked himself, and with the knowledge he mastered so far, he guessed that it might very well be a viable direction to pursue.

He then recalled some strange skills and subskills in the System's Skill Tree. They mostly pertained to replacing a mechanical mech's parts with biological equivalents. So instead of using artificial muscles made out of alloys and polymers, these researchers cultured living muscle tissue with the same shape and function.

A mech is an imitation of the human body.

"There are some people out in the galaxy who believe in the phrase a bit more literal than others."

Ves imagined he touched upon one of the great secrets of what humanity's elite are pursuing. He realized the Mech Designer System's unintentional reveal of what other researchers are pursuing in their dark and hidden laboratories were dangerous secrets. This was so far above his level that if he ever revealed any of his suspicions, that he might draw an entire battlefleet from some first-rate superstate upon his head.

"I better keep all of these thoughts locked up for the moment." He quickly concluded, and turned his attention back to the matter of portraying a certain piece of male anatomy.

He referenced the galactic net again and took a look at how ancient pre-space flight civilizations dealt with the matter of armoring the crotch.

A lot of ridicule-inducing images appeared. Some ancient armorers literally shaped a form-fitting codpiece that looked like they could snugly fit the member. In today's age, if Ves implemented such a thing onto his mech, he'd literally get hounded from his profession.

The slightly larger and subter codpieces were not much better. They still bulged out so obviously that they never failed to call an observer's gaze to the person's waist. Sure, they offered a lot of protection, but the way they drew the eye just caused them to look like flaunting peacocks.

"Then again, it's not like Vincent is any different."

Still, Ves sought a more decent example. He found a couple of interesting images. Some armor designers neatly avoided this issue by adding a chainmail or plated skirt. While that would work brilliantly with certain mechs, he was sure to draw Vincent's ire. A man never wore skirts, after all, and his client wanted to flaunt his masculinity, not negate it entirely.

He eventually spotted some codpieces that looked a bit more fitting for modern times. These codpieces skewed rounded shapes and instead used sharp angles in a combination of triangular and rectangular forms. These examples evoked the suggestion that they were there to do their job of protecting the crotch without attracting undue attention.

It looked sharp, modern and most importantly did not cross the line into indecency. Ves liked the concept very much that he immediately turned on the design studio's designer program and put his inspirations into form.

He hit some snags along the way. The Marc Antony was a frame based on the heavily-armored Caesar Augustus. Both mechs weighed at the top end of the medium weight class. As the legs and the waist were some of the most heavily-armored portions of any mechs, this meant that it was highly unusual to add additional layers on top.

Ves had to consider the range of motion of the legs. Extreme contortions could very well bump into the mech and crush any rigid obstacle in its way. He doubted Vincent wanted everyone to see him destroy his facsimile manhood while inside the cockpit. Shaping the codpiece in a triangular shape so that its bottom portion was minimized could only go so far.

"If I can't avoid any collisions, then it needs to have some give."

He thought back to yesterday and recalled his conversation with Vincent. He casually mentioned using a sponge-like material to build this part with. Such a method could allow Ves to avoid the problem of leaving his mech open to destroying its own gender.

He took an hour to design this simple part. He first took a resilient sponge-like composite from the market and shaped it in a roughly triangular form that protruded sufficiently from the lower waist. He undersized it in order to leave enough room for armored plates to cover up the soft and flexible composite. He didn't want to resort to a different material so he chose to stick to the same HRF armor plating.

After stepping back, he took in the entire projection of the mech. The Marc Antony still looked awe-inspiring and ready to fight. The triangular armored codpiece nonetheless attracted a substantial amount of attention, but its design was sufficiently different from the more obscene examples in history. It looked… tasteful, even if Ves would never admit it. Still, he hoped Vincent accepted this addition.

His Marc Antony variant somehow looked more complete with the codpiece. Well, Ves personally preferred it to be smaller and less attention grabbing. Nevertheless, now that he considered the question whether it made any difference if mechs had genders, it looked more fitting.

When Ves contacted Vincent in the morning, he showed the groggy-looking scion the projection of his work.

Even Vincent adopted a stumped expression. His jaw practically dropped as he admired the augmented form. "It's great! That's exactly what I was going for! It's a bit classier than I prefer, but absolutely nobody will ridicule me for hiding my package any longer!"

Ves questioned who exactly lacked the sense to criticize a mech's exclusion of unnecessary additions. Still, he kept his mouth shut, not willing to disparage any powerful heirs and step on Vincent's toes at the same time.

After ranting about the genius of the codpiece for several minutes, Vincent finally gave Ves the green light. "I want you to go back to whatever dirtball you're based in and produce my mech according to this design! Make sure you coordinate with my assistant if you need anything extra. Don't call me back until you finished the mech."

His personal assistant took over the line. Ves asked a bit about the progress of procuring the materials for the cape, the lighting system and also the codpiece, and got a reassuring answer.

"Our logistical department has fast tracked deliveries to your workshop in Cloudy Curtain. They will arrive long before your flight back to your home planet."

Ves then referred the personal assistant contact his broker to sign a contract for a commission. Marcella was much more capable of handling the sales portion of the negotiation. Once he received his advance payment, he could ship all the other materials he needed to his workshop.

As Ves packed up his meager luggage and brought his cat back to the spaceport, he wondered how he should actually build his mech. Vincent's product had to be in his hands in around thirteen days, which sounded a lot, but certification and shipping took a lot of time and so did acclimatization. He couldn't expect Vincent to master his new mech in a day.

The first time he fabricated the Marc Antony, he took over a week, and that was when he worked with maximum care. Now that he grew a little more familiar with the fabrication process, he could skip most of the excessive caution and work a little more briskly.

"Ideally, the fabrication shouldn't take longer than a week including the additional parts. Any longer and it calls into question why I even bother fabricating the mech personally in the first place."

He could definitely imagine hiring a full-time fabricator to take care of his production, but now was not the time. He mentally apologized to Carlos for putting his job offer aside. Once he received more demand for his product, he could revisit this issue.

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By the time Ves exited the transit shuttle, he breathed in the fresh and moist air of his home planet. Bentheim might have been a melting pot of trade and business, but it did not fare well hosting so many people in such a small planet. He led Lucky and his floating luggage carrier onto a nearby aircar and headed back to his home.

His workshop already received its first deliveries of materials by the time he returned. The rest of the raw materials he needed to build a modified Marc Antony trickled in throughout the day. The new security system installed by SASS did their work and performed thorough scans of the arriving delivery shuttles and the containers they carried.

Ves already summoned up the design in his System's Designer program and optimized his first commercial design. He had advanced his skills a little bit since he first completed this design, so Ves took advantage of it to marginally increase his mech's speed and armor specifications.

"It's only been a few weeks but I've already advanced this much with my upgraded skills." The speed of his progress astounded him. Only true elites nurtured by more advanced states could improve this fast.

With 3000 DP on the line, Ves treated this fabrication task with utmost importance. He could not fail his second production. Not only would it screw up the mission, it could also leave a bad track record on his thin record. A fifty percent chance of failing a delivery was not a good way to build his reputation.

As his optimizations to the design was complete, Ves began the tedious task of starting his fabrication. First, he unpacked his raw materials and sorted them out. He checked each lot for their integrity and completeness.

Fortunately, despite having bought these materials as surplus from the open market, they had all been delivered as promised. The MTA took a dim view on such manipulations, so they guaranteed all the trades happening under their watch. With such a formidable backing to rely on, Ves had high expectations for the deliveries he paid good money for. He spent up to 18 million credits to get them to his workshop.

"Everything is prepared. Now I all I need is to get in the right mood."

His modified variant was still expected to fulfill the same role. However, its changed appearance demanded a slightly different set of priorities. Ves had to add the goal of looking good to his list of things to focus on when building the mech.

"I know the design looks great. All I have to do now is to convert that virtual projection into a very real entity."

While he set a firm deadline of 7 days, Ves did not rush his fabrication. He tediously drew out the most important task, which was fabricating all of the Marc Antony's parts without any errors. His familiarity with the process along with the consolidation of his fabrication skills allowed him to produce most parts without any issue.

The HRF armor plating took the most time to come into being, though once he knew all the knacks Ves encountered no risks in its formation. It had been designed with crude mass production in mind as the armor was supposed to be a cheap and highly processed armor variant.

To Ves, this was both an advantage and a disadvantage. The best part was that now that he knew how to form the trickier shapes, even braindead Ves could manage to produce a decent batch. However, Marlin Solutions who originally developed this formula had steered it towards making it as foolproof as possible, meaning that a lot of tedious steps in between had to be followed before the armor came into being.

In essence, its production still took a whopping two days out of his schedule. The mace and shield were relatively simple designs, yet their large mass and volume meant that it took a pretty long time for his aged 3D printer to produce all of their bulk.

As it took two-and-a-half days of fairly brisk production before he fabricated the rest of the components, Ves only had three days left for assembly. Luckily, the process of assembling a mech from its component parts was not a delicate process. Doing it right the first time laid a solid foundation for subsequent assembling runs, and as Ves only made minor changes to the design, he encountered very little issues.

The only real problem he faced at this stage was that he always had too little room for cabling and other delicate components. The Marc Antony partially inherited the crowded interior from its base model, and Ves could not do much about it even as he already made some attempts at alleviating the issue.

"This portion is the riskiest step of the fabrication cycle. I can't rush it at all. If I stuff in the cables with too much force, I'm liable to break something."

Thus, out of his expectation, Ves eventually completed the basic frame of the mech after seven-and-a-half days. While the mech looked awfully complete, Ves still had to add in Vincent's bling.

Luckily, all of the extras were nothing complicated. The lighting system was the most complicated system to install. Ves had not sealed his unfinished mech tight but left several holes in its plating. He could easily stuff in the internal lighting and emplace the wireless power transmitters in whatever nook and cranny that could fit such a small part.

The exterior lighting posed less of a problem for him. These thin, flat pieces had already been fabricated by a skillful artist Vincent selected. Ves had to admit the sharp, angled design was leagues ahead of his own pathetic attempts. The artist even managed to form them in a way that complimented the codpiece. It reinforced the masculinity of the mech.

After finishing the placement of the lights and attaching the crimson cape, Ves was left with the final piece. The codpiece lay on the ground, ready to be emplaced on his almost-finished mech. He hesitated for a moment.

"This is a bit embarrassing. Looking at it… it feels like I'm transplanting someone else's private part."

Still, in order to cap off his second ever fabrication, he had to complete this step. With a sigh, he ordered a robotic arm to grab hold of the codpiece and lift it up. The triangular decoration was not made out of exceptional materials, so the arm had no trouble lifting it up. When Ves made sure the alignment fit the design specifications, he pressed the final button and let the arm firmly attach the codpiece to its rightful place.

Ves let out a deep breath. The mech was almost completely done. He let his scanner bots scour the mech for any hidden faults while he stepped on a hover bot and lifted himself up to the cockpit. He did not forget to finish the last step.

He entered the cockpit and examined the small hole where Ves was about to place his next gem.

"What shall I choose?"

Though Ves had gathered a small collection of gems, none of them were noteworthy. Lucky still hadn't crapped out the exotic alloy he gulped out of the anonymous box that someone delivered to his address a while ago. Ves hoped that his gem cat would finish digesting the extraordinary materials and perhaps use it for this mech, but apparently he was too optimistic.

He opened the pouch he placed all of the gems he picked up so far and randomly sought out the most sparkling piece. It turned out to be an exceptionally sparkling zircon gemstone.

[Zircon of Minor Resonance]

Increases the tonal quality of a mech's weapon by 20% when installed.

At first sight, Ves thought he hit jackpot. After gathering so many gems that only boosted an attribute by one percent or less, he suddenly dug out a gem that improved something by as much as a fifth! Then he read the description closer and got disappointed. Tonal quality? Are you kidding? What the gem basically did was make a mech's weapon impact sound more pleasing!

Ask any mech pilot or designer if they cared how they sounded like. Pretty much none of them ever cared about it! Ves found the gem to be utterly useless other than looking pretty. Frankly, he was glad to get rid of it. Its appearance matched Vincent's vanity.

After installing the gem in its slot, Ves stroked the console of the mech for a moment. Sometimes, he still dreamed of piloting a mech. Then he looked at the darkened cockpit and thought to himself that he built every part of it by himself. Naturally, he used a lot of machines to get it done, but in these days that practically meant handmade.

"I'm going to miss you."

Ves left the cockpit of the mech and let the hover bot take him down. Pride swelled within him as he satisfyingly contacted the MTA. He officially finished fabricating his second mech. Now he just had to certify the mech and let Marcella ship it back to Bentheim on a priority cargo shuttle.

He opted to let the MTA's personnel pick up the finished mech without him this time. Ves doubted that Gertrude, the technician in charge, appreciated his presence.

"She's going to be pissed again when I interrupt her schedule with another certification process."

Still, Ves hoped his nascent contacts in the MTA could keep the curmudgeonly woman in check. With decent people such as Ryan Baldwin and Justin Chandler in charge of the Cloudy Curtain branch, Ves had no reason to doubt its integrity.

"By the way, that kind of begs the question why they are stationed in this backwater of a planet in the first place. They're way too good for their current posts."

Could it be that Ves was too short sighted? While the MTA didn't lack talents, he still felt as if Baldwin and Chandler's talents were wasted here. Hardly anything exciting went on in this quiet neighborhood. Perhaps they chose to be stationed here expressly for that reason. Or perhaps they were exiled.

Ves shook his head and stopped cracking his head over this issue. As a large, powerful organization that spanned the galaxy, the MTA's palace intrigue made everything that took place in the halls of Rittersberg look like child's play. An outsider like him had no business speculating about what happened deep inside the MTA.

While he waited for the certification to finish, Ves called Marcella.

The hefty woman's face popped up from his wrist projector with a tired expression. "Do you know how late it is back here in Dorum?"

"Ah, sorry. I forgot to check the local time."

"No worries, I was about to wake up soon anyway. I take it you've completed your second mech?"

"Yup, and it looks pretty good. The mech came off my assembler without a hitch, even with the extra parts."

"I've seen the designs. You didn't disappoint. I'll take care of the shipping and delivery on my end. You just make sure to get ready for your next job."

"You've already got another order lined up for me?"

Marcella shook his head. "The deal is still in its early stages. I won't expect any progress on that end for a week. All I can tell you that it's an order for multiple mechs, up to five at most possibly."

That was a very surprising piece of news. Ves still expected to meet single-mech orders. Having someone buy five complete mechs was a very serious commitment to a newly introduced design.

He calculated the sums quickly and figured out that the client could drop as much as a hundred-and-forty million credits in one go. That was a massive amount of money, and even if he left out most of that sum to cover his expenses and Marcella's commision, that still left him with forty million credits of gross profits.

"Forty million credits…" Ves already drooled about what he could do with such a sum.

He could proactively produce and start to stockpile his mechs in advance. No longer did he have to wait for advance payments to start procuring the raw materials. With the need for an advance payment gone, his mech would be much more attractive for prospective customers to buy. Marcella could also show off the real mech instead of rely on spec sheets and projections.

"Don't celebrate too early Ves. Not anyone is willing to spend so much on a lastgen advanced mech."

Now that he thought about it, the money looked too good to be true. Spending a large amount of money in one go for a new design from a novice mech designer was crazy. Either the buyer was swimming in credits, or he added some extra demands.

"What's the catch, then?"

"The buyer is an intermediary for another party. They want to conduct the trade without involving the MTA."

That sounded like trouble. The two pieces of information were not too remarkable if they came alone, but combined and it practically screamed dirty dealings. Marcella should have known this from the start and reject the offer out of hand.

"While I might be a new designer, but I'm not desperate to the point of selling my mechs to pirates."

"Now hold on for a sec, Ves." Marcella held out her hand. "It's actually not a pirate we're selling our mechs to. The intermediary is a familiar face around Bentheim. He's serving as an agent for some of the shadier mercenary corps, but he has a good reputation in so far that he doesn't deal with gangs with active bounties on their heads.

That abated his indignation. Instead of selling his mechs to thieves, rapists and murderers, he did business with regional powerhouses like Walter's Whalers. Was that still okay? Perhaps not, but the air of legitimacy these groups often sported made it less objectionable for Ves to produce his mechs for them. Though Ves still had a question.

"If these groups aren't so bad, why don't they approach you directly?"

"Intermediaries still serve their purposes. I have been talking to the representative on and off for the last week or so and he still hasn't leaked any details about his clients. The only thing you can do is to take a leap of faith.

Ves imagined standing atop a tall skyscraper while spreading out his arms. He ran across the roof and jumped off the lip of the roof. Would he be able to land safely, or go all splat at the end of his fall?

He resorted to his usual tactic when faced with a difficult issue. "Let me think about it. Since the deal is nowhere near being closed, let me consider it for a while longer. Just make sure they aren't doing anything too shady. I do not want to get into trouble with the authorities."

"Me too. I can assure you that I do not relish in attracting the attention of the Mech Corps. I'll be sure to vet their conditions in detail."

After talking about a few other minor issues, Ves hung up the call. Now all he needed to do was wait for his mech to be delivered to the Ricklin boy. He wondered whether his mech would see battle soon.

Ves was quite worried at Vincent's potential performance. Someone who thought it was more important to look cool than to pilot the most effective mech was not a normal pilot. Who knew how diligently he learned how to fight with a mech.

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How integral were chips in the daily life of a modern day human? Even as they slept, these silent workers played their role. They observed the time, measured the surrounding temperature and were on the lookout for any toxicants in the air.

When a person woke up, he interacted with dozens of different processors in a short succession. His power shower automatically cleaned him with the most optimal settings before drying him off without any excess heat and air.

If he was fairly well off, then his household bot would have already prepared a sumptuous breakfast for him. Though the act of automated cooking was long perfected, bots still needed a tiny bit of processing power to adapt to different ingredients.

When it was time for him to go to work, he entered his aircar if he owned one or hailed one from the streets. These basic vehicles were packed with processors of different kinds. The most high-end one was in charge of the main functions, but plenty of auxiliary modules required less calculating power. The projectors that let the person read his news or check out the latest weather were all guided by humble processors solely developed for this role.

Just this tiny slice of life of an average person showed how ubiquitous computers were in this day and age. As the dominant manufacturer of competitively priced computer chips, the Ricklin Corporation should be swimming in money.

In fact, it did. When Vincent last glanced at the company's accounting sheets, his eyes grew cross eyed at how many trillion credits the company raked in each fiscal year.

Unfortunately, no one in the Ricklin family was glad with the company's current trend. Revenue was high, but so were the expenses. To produce that many chips at the lowest possible price, the Ricklin Corporation constantly invested in its mass production capabilities. But that wasn't enough.

The company had to constantly look forward and develop faster processors. Its highly substantial RD department always licensed newer technologies from more advanced states at practically extortionary prices and spent years trying to adapt them in a cheaper form. By the time these chips finally entered the market, the Ricklin Corporation incurred tens of billions of credits in debt.

"The company is like a hamster stuck in a wheel. No matter how far it tries to go, it always ends up at the same spot." Vincent muttered as he lounged in his recreation room.

The day of the delivery was soon upon him. The new mech that he custom-ordered from some noname kid had passed the MTA's certification process with flying colors. Vincent never thought he'd get his new mech so smoothly. He underestimated Ves.

"Tell me again why I have to resort to this older model?" He absently asked as he twirled his unruly blond hair. Despite its messy appearance, a real human stylist had personally worked on it this morning. While bots delivered consistent performance, real human workers always possessed a spark of creativity that artificial computers lacked.

Johnson, his personal assistant and 'butler' as Vincent preferred to say, calmly stated his own opinions. "Young master, choosing to purchase a more modern mech will alarm your siblings and cause them to raise their vigilance against you. By purchasing a mech based off technology from the last generation, you've successfully caused everyone keeping an eye on you to disregard your intentions."

"I take it no one inside and out is aware of my real intentions?"

"As soon as they heard that you added a codpiece to your mech, they all stopped paying attention."

Vincent smirked as his eyes sparked with indolent patience. While the rich scion still looked like a playboy, there was an edge to his personality which he did not display before around anyone else. Even Ves was successfully convinced his client had no redeeming features.

"My granddad and those old coots in the board of management will soon rue the day they pushed me out of my inheritance."

For the oldest son of a large, traditional family to be pushed aside, Vincent was humiliated beyond words. A family that passed down its leadership position from eldest to eldest since the start of Bentheim's colonization suddenly changed all rules to suit the third and youngest direct descendant.

Vincent gritted his teeth and squeezed his fist. "That hateful Catelyn. Why was she born with all those gifts?"

From the very moment of conception, things started to change. Vincent was afforded any and every luxurity, so long as he listened diligently to his instructors. The amount of schoolwork he needed to memorize each day could astound any other person, but to Vincent who had crammed entire literary works since young, it was like drinking water.

The Ricklin family hid a dark secret. They engaged in extensive genetic modification to 'design' the perfect descendant. Though it was an open secret that every affluent family engaged in the practice, the Ricklin family went a step further.

By chance, one of the ancestors of the family came across a large wreck when she accompanied a priority trade shipment. The already old woman at that time only ordered the convoy to stop and inspect the wreckage for survivors.

She never intended to stay and dig up what had happened because the shipment was time sensitive. Nevertheless, the ruined ship's origins turned out to be extremely remarkable. Through some freak accident involving extensive battle damage and an over-stressed FTL drive, the ship suffered catastrophic damage during FTL and ended up well inside a star system's gravity well.

There was no surviving such a process. All life in the ship perished without even having enough time to scream, and most of the interior of the mech got crushed. However, some smaller and more protected systems survived, enough for the ancestor to learn what a bounty the ship represented.

It turned out the ship was piloted by an exiled family line from the New Rubarth Empire. At its height, this Rubarthan lineage ruled over three ports and thirty-nine lesser star systems. Unfortunately, they somehow crossed the Emperor and lost all of their territory in one go when the Rubarthans caught them off guard with a mass invasion.

The disarrayed family barely had time to pack up their essentials and escape with their fastest starships. The wreck the ancient Ricklin elder found was one of them, and like many other escape vessels from a first-rate superstate, it possessed many redundancies.

While the botched FTL transition killed off all of the occupants, its data core was still intact, though its encryption was not a trivial matter. When the elder sneakily ordered the data core to be brought back, she redirected the floating wreck and sent it directly towards the system's sun. She wanted no trace of its existence left.

Years and eventually decades passed by while the family slowly worked on the data core's encryption. An entire generation of family heads retired their places to allow the younger generation to take the helm. The Ricklins eventually decoded the data core, but not through any exceptional effort on their part. They simply waited for the most appropriate cracking technology to advance. No encryption could ever last the test of time.

When the Ricklins finally accessed the data core, they found out it possessed data on only one topic: genetic manipulation. And not the regular kind. No, it turned out the Rubarthans were not content with the human genome alone. They very subtly incorporated DNA adapted from alien samples.

As one could imagine, this was not a simple process. The genetic code that originated from alien lifeforms always came in different formats. It took an immense amount of effort to read, analyze and adapt an alien's best attribute to a form compatible to human life.

It sounded crazy and heretical, but the Rubarthan family who funded these studies actually succeeded in incorporating such alien genes in their own test subjects. Just as they were about to extend their experiments to their own crop of descendants, the Rubarthan Emperor came in to destroy them at hand. Perhaps the research was the principal reason why the family's fortunes turned so suddenly.

In any case, long story short, the Ricklins were barely able to interpret the research results, much less replicate them even in the most advanced biolabs. Only in recent years did they achieve a limited result. Just when Vincent started his schooling, in fact.

Catelyn was the most successful clone out of thousands. Through some confluence of random factors, her gene expression sat in the sweet spot where it activated all of the good things about the alien genes while the side effects were minimized. Whereas most of her sibling clones were stillborn or grew deformed, Catelyn quietly grew up to be a model baby.

Vincent's parents practically ignored their two naturally born sons and latched onto this aberrant new sister. Though the Ricklins never understood precisely what the alien genes did, Catelyn always distinguished herself in many remarkable ways since young. No matter if it was intelligence, ingenuity or deductive capability, Catelyn beat every record imaginable.

The family's orientation changed directions. After the devastating losses the Ricklin Corporation incurred during the last war between the Vesia Kingdom and the Bright Republic, the family desperately needed hope. Catelyn represented their best chance at revival. No one cared about Vincent or his average second brother Gilbert anymore.

Gilbert could get away from any entangling conflicts by taking the opportunity to study at a prestigious institution in a second-rate state. Though he promised he'd be back once he graduated, he never really sent any word back all these years, and no one in the family cared.

As the eldest son, Vincent was stuck in a more awkward position. He could never find any justification to flee the confines of his family's influence. Even leaving the surface of Bentheim was out of the question. He had to give ground in a different way.

His personal assistant, loyal only to him, came up with an elegant solution. With Johnson's assistance, he slowly cultivated a playboy lifestyle to the point he could not really distinguish between his roles anymore. So good was his 'acting' that the family heads were all convinced he grew up to be a piece of trash. With all the myriad scandals popping up in the news, they had the perfect excuse to dispossess him from his inheritance and pass it over to their talented wondergirl.

Naturally, Vincent was no fool and some of the more acute elders weren't either. As he took the initiative to retreat from his cherished position, the older generation didn't make it too difficult for him. Naturally, everyone except for him saved their faces.

"Well, it won't be long before I can get back at Catelyn and the rest." Vincent smirked as he was at the cusp of enacting the plan he brewed for years.

"Your new mech has arrived in the courtyard." Johnson informed him after a few minutes passed. "Shall we meet with Mrs. Bollinger?"

"Yes, let's finalize this transaction."

When Vincent and Johnson stepped out of the doors of the opulent mansion, they resumed their typical appearances. Vincent stumbled forward like he had not yet recovered from a wild night of partying, while Johnson acted as the dutiful servant who ignored everything that did not concern his young master's immediate needs.

As a veteran business woman, Marcella hid her scorn well. She was all smiles as she firmly gripped Vincent's hand, even if he needed some help with that from his butler.

"Good morning, Vincent. It's a great day today, is it?"

"You betcha. My long awaited pimp mobile has finally arrived! I can't wait to see it in the flesh."

Before they could approach the sealed container, the mansion's security personnel went to work. They inspected the container and its contents very thoroughly. After finding nothing amiss, they opened the shell and revealed the imposing form of a newly build medium mech.

"He's beautiful. Such a grand mech deserves to be worshipped." Vincent muttered as he truly grew in love with his latest purchase. "That Larkinson kid deserves a medal. I doubt anyone could have built any cooler mech."

Not everyone present admired the mech. The added frills were senseless and distracted the mech from its core purpose. The unavoidable codpiece jarred everyone's sense of how mechs ought to look like. Its presence was like a shining elephant in the room. No one had ever seen such a thing before in a modern mech. It led to many questioning gazes.

Vincent ignored all of the stares and beelined his way to the mech. An advanced hover bot with zillions of safety features already waited for him near the feet of the mech. As he climbed in the air, he passed by the codpiece. The thick, stubby triangular piece of decoration was larger than his body. Proportionally, it looked hefty on the modified Marc Antony's frame, but it did not exaggerate its prowess too much.

"It sure is big enough." Vincent nodded in satisfaction as he finally reached the open cockpit. He scampered inside, and with familiar motions he strapped himself in. As he stared ahead, he spotted a shining blue crystal-like gem. As he caressed his finger over its surface, he pressed it in, causing the cockpit to close and the mech come to life.

Though it was safer to let a trained pilot under his employ test out the mech, Vincent wanted to do it personally. This was going to be his personal mech, and only he should have the right to pilot it. Using a mech after someone else had piloted it first felt too much like using a second-hand good. As a veritable spendthrift elite, he disdained such matters.

The neural interface connected to his brains. His mind was subjected to a myriad of foreign sensations as Vincent allowed the device to connect his brains to the various functions of his new mech. The connection settled down after a minute as all the first-time testing was complete.

"I have control over the mech. Stepping out."

The Marc Antony model stepped out of the container and into the open air. Vincent admired the heightened perspective of his new body. Despite his acting, he did not hate piloting mechs. In fact, he adored it. Ordering a custom-built mech that looked good merely provided him a convenient excuse for any future circumstances. He could simply say that all the other mechs were too ugly.

As everyone else stepped back in case Vincent lost control, which they thought was likely, the Marc Antony began to exercise its range of motion. The mech performed its actions with smooth motions. After the mech picked up its accompanying mace and shield, it made some rudimentary attack patterns. Nothing malfunctioned.

After half an hour of running around and testing each weapons at the practice range for the guards, Vincent finally hopped out of the cockpit with a satisfied expression. He met Marcella and signed the final contracts.

"And that's all of it." Marcella said with a smile as she instructed her employees to process the newly signed contracts back in her office. "If I may say, it was a wise choice to buy from Mr. Larkinson. The man is young, but he possesses integrity most other Bentheimers have in short supply. If you wish to purchase another mech to fill up your stables, feel free to call me up."

Vincent laughed awkwardly. "I've scratched my itch for a good-looking mech. I don't expect to buy another machine, for now."

One mech was enough for his plan to come into fruition, Vincent thought to himself. Still, on the outside he acted all smiles as he made a few crass jokes. Marcella hardly appreciated them and disentangled herself from the conversation as fast as possible while still remaining polite.

As a guard led the broker back to the front gates, Vincent and Johnson stared up at the new mech.

"It's going to be dangerous from here on out. The storm you will spark will engulf the entire Republic." Johnson cautioned his employer again, now that they were about to take more substantial risks.

"It doesn't matter how many trees will get knocked over. As long as mine is still standing at the end of it, all of my actions aren't in vain."

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An anxious Ves impatiently waited for the news to arrive. After more than a day of biting his fingernails, his comm lighted up with a series of incoming messages.

The first one came from his bank. Marcella passed on the rest of Vincent's payment for his new mech. His eyes almost popped when he saw how much the young Ricklin paid for his customized combat machine.

"Thirty-four million credits. That's at six million more than the regular price."

For just a couple of days work, an extra six million credits in his pocket was an extremely generous payment. Vincent got badly ripped off by Marcella. Out of the thirty-four million credits, Marcella sliced 3.4 million credits as her share, leaving him with a remaining profit of 12.8 million credits, which was still a pretty huge amount. As Ves still enjoyed about one-and-a-half million credits of pocket money, he stashed all of his new gains in his piggy bank.

His savings account now swelled to twenty-four million bright credits. His dream of replacing his second-hand equipment and acquiring some good licenses was one step closer.

"And that's not all. The real reward has yet to come."

He opened the subsequent messages sent by the silent but ever-present System.

[You have received 34 Design Points for selling a physical mech of your design.]

The small amount of credits he received for a single sale failed to sate his appetite. He skipped right to the other message.

[Congratulations for partially completing the mission. As a mech designer, you must learn to accommodate the needs of your clients and do your best to incorporate his wishes in your creation. A lack of ability is no excuse.]

Ves was afraid of this. He only earned a partial completion for the mission due to screwing up the simple lighting design. He should have contracted an artist himself instead of letting Vincent do all of the work.

[For satisfying two out of three of your client's requests, you have received a Deluxe Concentration Candy and 2000 Design Points.]

"Yes! Haha, I still got the candy!" Ves celebrated with glee. He expected his DP reward to be cut, but keeping the candy worth 0.5 attribute points intact was a pleasant surprise. "Only, why is it for Concentration?"

Certainly, Ves did not disregard the Concentration attribute. It allowed him to work long stretches of time while holding on to the same intent. If his attention span was too short, he'd easily be distracted and lose the perfect state to harmonize the X-Factor of a new design. Concentration also affected many other processes in a positive way.

Still, these improvements weren't able to provide concrete results. X-Factor was always nebulous at the best of times, and Ves did not expect his efforts in this area to improve very quickly. The lack of direction plagued him for a long time, though his latest work for Vincent taught him that perhaps it might be wise to reconsider gender for mechs.

"Man, if I had gotten intelligence instead, my learning capacity would have jumped through the roof."

A man could wish. If necessary, he could buy the candy from the Store, though the prices the heartless System charged were sky high. He'd rather invest in his skills than raising his attributes. This spending strategy provided the best results in the short and medium term.

"Bottoms up."

He gulped down the candy in a single toss. The candy tasted sour, and it spread to his entire mouth. Then everything in his mouth started to burn a bit, causing Ves to fall and hold his head. Somehow the sour taste drilled through his flesh and converged on his brain. The pain became excruciating. Lucky even turned alarmed and meowed in panic at the sight.

Only after several minutes did the entire process end. Ves took deep breaths as he tried to recover from the strange ordeal the System put him in. He was going to have to be more careful eating these strengthened candies next time.

He flexed his mind a little, but did not see any obvious results from the 0.5 point bump in Concentration. He shrugged. It might take a more concerted action to feel the effects.

Since it was a long time since he last inspected his Status, he called it up to plan his next actions.

[Status]

Name: Ves Larkinson

Profession: Novice Mech Designer

Specializations: None

Design Points: 2136

Attributes

Strength: 0.7

Dexterity: 0.7

Endurance: 0.7

Intelligence: 1.2

Creativity: 1

Concentration: 1.7

Neural Aptitude: F

Skills

[Assembly: Apprentice - [3D Printer Proficiency II] [Assembler Proficiency II]

[Business: Apprentice

[Computer Science: Incompetent

[Electrical Engineering: Novice

[Mathematics: Incompetent

[Mechanics: Apprentice - [Jury Rigging II] [Speed Tuning II]

[Metallurgy: Apprentice

[Metaphysics: Incompetent

[Physics: Novice - [Lightweight Armor Optimization I] [Mediumweight Armor Optimization II]

Evaluation: A stalled mech designer languishing at the entry gates.

Even the System thought he was stagnant for too long. His skills and attributes had rarely moved forward even after several weeks. His virtual designs in Iron Spirit barely earned him any DP even with the lowest possible prices set on them. Only the occasional 5-star mech sale bumped up his DP significantly.

"Now that I have a windfall of more than 2000 DP, I should use it to progress my stalling status."

The System still considered Ves to be a novice mech designer. This term used to be appropriate when he was still a raw newcomer, but with two confirmed real mech sales under his belt, it now sounded demeaning.

The industry treated novice mech designers rather poorly. Novices always flooded the labor market after they graduated each year. Without any wealth or connections, these naive, hopeful designers usually got a huge shock when they saw that employers almost never hired them to design mechs straight away.

These novices had nowhere else to go. The big firms all heartlessly exploited them as excellent mech technicians, dangling the possibility of promotion down the line in front of their faces. It would take many decades before they ever got the chance to sit behind the design table.

Only after designing a commercial variant off an existing base model and selling it a couple of times did he graduate from that lowly status. The MTA likely updated their files on him to reflect his change of status. In official terms, he graduated from a novice into an Apprentice Mech Designer.

Still, the System didn't acknowledge his accomplishments. It paid more emphasis to his capabilities, which did not change significantly since the start. Oh, in absolute terms, he improved in several ways. But his skills still remained within the realm of beginner mech designers.

"If I want to become an Apprentice Mech Designer, then I have to push up one of my core skills to Journeyman level."

Right now, Ves reached Apprentice level in Assembly, Business, Mechanics and Metallurgy. If he wanted to shore up his foundations properly, then he should upgrade his Physics to Apprentice level as well. The 1000 DP price tag for that action swayed his hand.

"My ability to design mechs will only improve marginally if I bump up my Physics skill. With my DP cut in half, I can't upgrade any other skill to Journeyman. That will delay my progress too much."

While foundation was important, Ves lacked the time to develop all of his skills in an even manner.

"It's not too bad if I have holes in my knowledge base. I can easily fill them up later. It's more important I find something to excel at quickly."

Though Ves decided to focus on balancing speed and armor, his all-important Physics skills still had ways to go. He focused instead on Mechanics and Metallurgy. Advancing either of these skills provided him with benefits.

"Mechanics is the core skill of any mech. A mech is a collection of many moving parts. If I improve this skill, I can make a mech run smoother even if it carries many complex parts."

Metallurgy on the other hand acted more nebulous. It increased his knowledge of the property of all kinds of metals, but whether he could apply them was still a question. Though essential in developing or modifying new armor systems, Ves had no foundation in this area. He was not planning to develop his own armor systems anytime soon.

Thus, the choice was easy. He decisively entered the Skill Tree and upgraded his Mechanics skill.

The moment he did so, the System came alive.

[You have upgraded your Mechanics skill to Journeyman. Please stand by for high density knowledge transfer.]

"What is high density-"

It was as if a rocket blew apart his mind. The mental assault arrived so suddenly that Ves instantly blacked out.

An unknown amount of time passed by. Ves eventually managed to wake up to a worried Lucky bumping its foreleg against his nose.

"Haha, I'm not a goner yet, little buddy."

After reassuring Lucky that he was safe and sound, Ves groggily scratched his head and tried to inspect his newly Mechanics skill.

An ocean of newly acquired knowledge streamed into his consciousness. It was as if wonderful world of applied mechanics had opened its door to him. He learned many scattered tidbits of insights that combined represented a terrifying package that changed the way he saw mechs.

"I never fully appreciated the alternate forms of mechs."

The main benefit of Journeyman-level Mechanics was that he gained a deeper insight into the workings of non-humanoid mechs. He learned the essentials how animal and bird-shaped mechs took advantage of the properties of their design scheme

"It is truly a matter of imitating nature's perfect works."

That was not to say that designers specializing in mechanics copied animal shapes blindly. They only chose the most optimal species and further refined the design to accommodate non-native elements such as thrusters or weapon mounts.

The things Ves gained not only benefited his ability to design animal mechs. Humanoid mechs came in different weight classes and shapes. There was an intricate connection between the two.

A designer usually modeled the frames of their original designs after real human athletes. For example, a designer intending to make a new light mech design would hire a runner or a sprinter and model his motions precisely. For heavy mechs, they turned to weight lifters and other strength athletes.

Sure, a designer didn't have to reference a real human all the time. But that simply resulted in massive amounts of number crunching as they tried to simulate millions of possible shapes before they finally end up with something satisfactory.

Now that he broke the threshold holding him back to novice level, Ves was curious if he succeeded in raising his profession. Before he could call his Status again, the System interrupted his thoughts.

[You have met the requirements to promote your profession from Novice Mech Designer to Apprentice Mech Designer.]

Ves cursed out loud. The System refused to give him a promotion. He already imagined the System's next action.

[You have received a new Promotion Mission. Please enter the Missions page to browse the details.]

[Promotion Mission]

Mission: Acknowledge a Master

Difficulty: A-Rank

Prerequisites: Promote a main skill to Journeyman

Description

No Apprentice Mech Designer has ever reached this level without guidance. A master teaches more than simple theory. He or she also prevents their apprentices from going astray. The guidance of an experienced hand is essential in forming a stellar design philosophy. You must seek out a Master Mech Designer and convince this person to take you in as an apprentice or disciple within a month.

Failure condition: Fail to apprentice yourself to any Master Mech Designer within 1 month of receiving this mission. You will not be able to promote again for 1 year.

Reward: Your profession is upgraded to Apprentice Mech Designer, which comes with increased benefits and privileges.

An A-rank mission. The System sure didn't make it easy for Ves. He hardly had any idea where to start.

"Does the Bright Republic even host a Master Mech Designer?"

The question was a valid one, as Master Mech Designers usually enjoyed an eminent status akin to royals. A mere third-rate state such as the Bright Republic or the Vesia Kingdom possessed no means to attract and retain a designer of such a caliber. These masters were all capable of designing mechs that could win entire wars. The amount of money they charged for every single design reached a dizzying level.

"Where can I find a master?"

The System remained silent even after Ves prodded it several times for any suggestions, so he gave up that avenue and turned to the galactic net. He inputted his search term and let the net deliver him a list of nearby masters, at least those that bothered to show themselves in public.

As expected, the Bright Republic did not host any masters. Sixty years ago was the last time a Master Mech Designer visited the Republic, and that was only to pick up an exceptional genius. None of the other backwater states in the barren Komodo Star Sector hosted any masters, at least in public.

"There might be one or two masters hiding in some corner of the sector, but I have no way of tracking them down."

The mission deserved it's A-rank rating. The scarcity of Master Mech Designers forced him to cast a wider net. He set his sights on the pair of second-rate states situated in the core of the star sector. They monopolized the region filled with the most vitality. They maintained their power by exploiting the abundant life-giving stars and resources in their borders.

Of the two local second-rate states, the Hexadric Hegemony favored the Vesia Kingdom. Ruled by a council of six, they rarely took action, but if they did it was bound to be big. The Autocracy was a sleeping giant that no one wanted to wake up prematurely.

The much plainer-sounding Friday Coalition was much friendlier in comparison. Their culture was rich and varied as they used to be a collection of rare ethnic groups chased out from more settled parts of the galaxy. Such ordeals had scarred their national psyche, but to their credit they opened their doors instead of slamming them shut.

Many promising geniuses from the surrounding third-rate states tended to flock to the Coalition to seek brighter futures. Many of his competitors in the Fusion Cup in fact attended one of the many elite institutions of the Coalition.

"There's bound to be masters in the Friday Coalition. The only problem is gaining an audience with them. I can't just come up to a master's doorstep."

The value of a Master Mech Designer did not lose out to national treasures. Each and every master's life was strictly regulated. Not even an errant fly could get near such vaunted people.

As Ves trawled through the galactic net for masters, he finally encountered an opportunity.

LEEMAR INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY

ANNUAL OPEN DESIGN COMPETITION

The annual contest hosted by the Leemar Institute was open to every designer below the age of thirty. Though most contestants still attended the Institute, each year plenty of outsiders who studied at other colleges converged in Leemar in order to showcase their talents. Many people and businesses attended the grand event as well, as the competition often unveiled diamonds in the rough.

From the articles describing past competitions, it was not unheard of for a novice mech designer to be noticed by an attending master.

"The open competition is in twenty days. My schedule is going to be tight if I want to travel all the way to the Friday Coalition."

Ves couldn't just leave his workshop behind. He was running a business now. He had to make arrangements.

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Chapter 67: Bodyguard

First, he called up Marcella. If the broker already had a deal lined up, then Ves was in big trouble.

"It's not a responsible move to spring this road trip on me all of a sudden." Marcella icely said. "Besides, do you think you even stand a chance? The Leemar competition is one of the fiercest stages in the entire star sector."

Ves shrugged. He had zero confidence in winning anything before he upgraded his mechanics, but now was different. "I have my own advantages. I think I can hold my own."

Despite Marcella's constant harranging, Ves remained steadfast in his determination to go to Leemar. Eventually the broker threw up her arms.

"Fine, be that way. Don't make me see you again only to tell you I told you so. I'll slow down and stretch out the negotiations for the current deal in progress. Maybe this trip might not be an entirely bad thing. If you stand out and perform well at Leemar, your business will pick up remarkably."

Unspoken was the fact that Marcella really held little confidence in Ves. Though he impressed him enough to do business with him, that was accounting his potential. Too little time had passed for him to really grow into his own. On paper, he stood zero chance of even reaching the top 1000 in Leemar.

Marcella took the time to explain the nuances of visiting the Friday Coalition. Unlike the Bright Republic, the Coalition is a lot more vigilant and scrutinized outsiders more strictly. The citizens also treated immigrants from third-rate states rather poorly, at least until they have proved themselves. All in all, Ves should keep to himself and do nothing to attract the ire of his hosts.

"Even if the Friday Coalition is one of the weakest second-rate states in the galaxy, it has still reached a height the Bright Republic can never achieve. They consider themselves the true rulers of the Komodo Star Sector and are not shy in demonstrating their might."

Ves eventually hung up after receiving an earful of caution from Marcella. He frowned a little. Did he underestimate the Coalition? It started as a refuge for persecuted people and still widely advertised their generous immigration policies for talented professionals. They blatantly poached the best and brightest of the surrounding third-rate states for centuries, keeping smaller states like the Bright Republic a remote backwater.

"There's more to the Coalition than meets the eye." He concluded. The only things he knew about the Coalition came from history books and the occasional drama broadcast. Now that he thought about it, the Republic probably didn't dare publish any material that was critical of the Coalition.

"I've got to ensure my safety somehow. Travelling alone to Leemar as a single mech designer is too dangerous. Though I'm not anything hot, someone might still try to find trouble with me if I'm all alone and defenseless."

It wasn't unheard of for vulnerable mech designers to get poached through one way or another. Simple physical intimidation was enough to make most of them sign a restrictive contract. After all, they spent their entire lives designing war machines instead of improving their personal combat skills.

"I should bring a bodyguard."

As Ves expected his trip to take up to two months, the price of hiring a bodyguard shouldn't be too exorbitant. "Luckily I completed the sale of my second mech. I'm not short on credits."

The only question was who to hire. Should he go to Bentheim and contract a mercenary? "Well, maybe I don't need to travel that far. If I recall, SASS should be a security company that originates from a second-rate state. Perhaps they extend the reach of their services to the Friday Coalition as well. It's worth a try."

He activated his comm and contacted the representative of Sanyal-Ablin. Miss Robyn's pretty face emerged from the projector with a smile.

"Ah, Mister Larkinson, a pleasure to see you again. How can I help you?"

"I'm planning a short trip to Leemar in order to take part in the mech design competition there. I'd like to ask if you can provide a bodyguard to accompany me there?"

Robyn maintained her smile though some tension appeared in her eyes. "We do offer short-term contracts for guards, but if you wish to extend this service to the Coalition, then it will cost you quite a bit. Your guard has to meet very high standards in order to cope with the caliber of opponents he or she may face."

"Give me a number."

She paused a little while she consulted some numbers. "Around nine-and-a-half million credits for a two-month contract."

He almost spurted blood at that exorbitant price. That was half a mech's worth of money!

"Do you have any more affordable options?"

"None that our company allows. This is already one of the cheapest quotes from our Coalition branch. I don't know if you are aware, but the bright credit is a very weak currency compared to the coalition credit. The exchange rates are unfavorable because it just costs more to do business in the Coalition."

Miss Robyn had a point. Ves knew that SASS wasn't out to screw him. The Coalition had access to abundant exotic resources. They used their massive population base to exploit these riches and build up their military and economy.

Merely the disparity in mech armies sent home how the Coalition trumped almost every other state. While the Bright Republic mainly used the cheapest currentgen mechs as their frontline models, the Coalition featured the very best currentgen mechs as their basic units.

It was rumoured that many elite commanders had already transitioned to nextgen models. Even the best mercenaries had access to mechs that could easily trounce the best of the Republic's Mech Corps.

"Let me consider my options for a moment. I'll contact you later in order to tell you what I've decided."

"Very well, but I should warn you that you won't get a better price anywhere else. Even if someone were to offer you a bargain, you will find that whoever gets sent will not be able to keep up in Coalition territory."

As the two closed the call, Ves thought back about her words. She sounded very certain that Ves would not be able to contract a capable guard.

He considered calling Melinda or someone else in the Larkinson family, but halted in his steps. Most of the capable Larkinson pilots served in the Mech Corps. It wasn't possible to ask them to leave their stations and accompany him on his trip.

A casual search on the galactic net revealed prices that Ves found hard to stomach. Robyn's words echoed in his head as he found that many security escorts came with a correspondingly high price tag. Expressed in coalition credits, it didn't sound too bad, but when converted to bright credits it was enough to drain all of his savings.

One of the biggest reasons why the price was so high was because short-term contracts came with a lot of upfront costs. It was more economical to contract a bodyguard over a longer period of time, though Ves would never do such a thing. He simply didn't have the money.

"It all comes down to money. Without enough credits, I can't gain any meaningful power."

He hadn't even travelled to the Friday Coalition and already he had a first-hand taste of its superiority. If Ves translated the relative strengths of its economic might to military strength, then the result painted a bleak picture.

Ves faced perhaps the most significant choice concerning this trip. Personally, he thought the risk of encountering a pirate raid or some other unpleasant business was not that big. Spending an excessive amount of credits allocated for future purchases might turn out to be a wasted effort.

"It's not like I'm going off the beaten path. Leemar is one of the core planets of the Coalition and the space routes are well-patrolled."

What Ves simply couldn't stomach was spending ten million credits for a bodyguard that only accompanied him for a whopping two months. Perhaps someone born with a silver spoon like Vincent might accept the price without batting an eyelid, but Ves was brought up in a frugal environment. Despite his father's generous salary, Ryncol never spent any of it. In fact, Ves still had no clue where his father stashed his savings.

In the end, while he didn't doubt the integrity of SASS, he simply wasn't willing to throw away his hard-earned money.

He considered his alternatives. Pretty much all of the reputable security companies offered the same baseline prices. Some of the shadier firms offered cheaper rates, but Ves read enough horror stories on the net to realize that they posed the greatest threat to him if he enlisted their services.

Several scams existed where a person and his guards that happened to encounter a gang of pirates that overpowered them. While the two sides acted like they were enemies, they were actually in cahoots with each other. Though this sort of thing didn't happen often, it was enough of a possibility for Ves to rule out this option.

He wanted a guard that was cheap, loyal and strong enough to deter the most casual riffraff from starting any trouble. "With my budget and circumstances, I'll be lucky if I get two out of three. Now where can I find such a chump?"

His list of contacts was woefully small. Out of the names in his list, one group had potential, if barely. Walter's Whalers might be a small-time gang that ruled over a single rural planet, but they were not antagonistic to his mech business. They shared a common interest in helping Cloudy Curtain develop its economy.

Despite his better instincts telling him that it was a terrible idea, Ves decisively chose to contact Dietrich, the so-called Little Boss.

"Hey hey! Look who's back! What's up, my man Ves?" Dietrich greeted him over the comm even as he was doing… something that required him to discard all of his clothes.

The smile on Ves' face grew cramped. "I'd like to inquire you about some business, but if you're indisposed, I can call you back later."

"Oh no, I'm not too busy. I'm the master of multitasking, baby!" The Little Boss boasted, and several enthusiastic voices cheered in the background. "Just spit it out. My ears are always open to you."

Ves already regretted contacting Dietrich. Perhaps he should reconsider Sanyal-Ablin's offer? But when the price tag came into view, his eyes hardened. He didn't want to waste his precious savings.

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Surprisingly, the Little Boss was receptive to the idea. "I always wanted to see the Coalition with my own eyes. My old man always nags about the power of the gangs operating in the center of the star sector. It's about time I take a look."

Ves did not expect Dietrich to offer to come in person. "It's not necessary for you to accompany me. I can make do with any decent pilot."

"No no no, you deserve better! While I'm not as good as the old coots who have been with my father for centuries, I can still hold my own!"

After several attempts to change his escort, Ves gave up. At least the Little Boss offered to accompany him for free. Though his caliber was nowhere near a bodyguard worth ten million credits, he was not a pushover. That should be enough.

"Say, I'd like to ask a favor from you." Dietrich smiled with more than a little slyness. "Since you're a fancy designer, you should know a lot about mechs, right? I'd like you to tinker with my mech. Just a tune-up is okay."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. It will take time, and I need extra materials-"

"Haha, no worries. We have a small stockpile of spare parts. You can grab anything you want as long as my mech gets better. As for the time, well, we both know it won't take an entire month to reach Leemar unless you take the cheapest spacelines."

Since he was loaded with money for the moment, Ves already reserved a first-class seat aboard a premium spaceline. It took little effort for Dietrich to reserve the seat next to him and also pay for the privilege to bring along his mech. Naturally, the war machine would be safed and stowed in the cargo section of the giant passenger ship.

"Alright, just head over to our base in Freslin. You know where it is. I'll clear you to use anything from our workshop and storage."

As Ves hung up, he sighed. Seems like he was pretty much stuck with Dietrich. Besides, it might not be a bad thing to develop a closer relationship with the heir of Walter's Whalers. His men could keep an eye on his workshop in his absence. He didn't fully trust his basic automatic security systems to keep out determined thieves.

After a brief trip aboard an aircar, Ves arrived at the same dilapidated-looking base where he first met Dietrich. Thankfully Dietrich looked fresh this time, wearing a smart suit that belied the power in his limbs. Unlike Vincent, the Little Boss was a warrior to the core. He did not let his excesses affect his combat capability.

"Right, you're finally here! Lemme bring you to my mech. You're going to love her. She's been my beauty for well over two years. She's a veritable classic!"

Dietrich unceremoniously dragged Ves into the rusting workshop area. Several oil-stained technicians were conducting haphazard maintenance on the mechs stowed inside. They walked up to the very end of the workshop which revealed an imposing silhouette of a medium flier.

Well, Dietrich was right in one aspect. His mech was a 'classic'. It was actually a National Aeromotives Harrier VCX-4B. While it was a currentgen design, the design came out at the very start of this generation's commencement. It was an aged design with a couple of premium features.

National Aeromotives only entered the mech market a generation ago. Its main products were still shuttles and aircars, so their accumulated knowledge concerning flight was very substantial. Besides brief forays into land mechs such as the Caesar Augustus, all the other mechs NA manufactured specialized in flight.

The Harrier was not a typical workhorse unit, though it shared many features with standard currentgen frontline models.

It focused mainly on endurance and therefore relied of fuel rather than direct energy to sustain its airtime. Its beefy flight system was capable of switching between energy saving mode and high intensity flight mode at the cost of weighing a bit more than other flight systems.

This made the medium mech carry only a fairly light amount of armor for a medium mech. Still, NA always excelled in developing heat-resistant armor, so the Harrier fared pretty well against energy weapons.

As for its weapon complement, it mainly relied on its ballistic rifle to dish out the hurt. While it weighed down the mech even more, it allowed the Harrier to devote most of its energy to power its flight. The Harrier was capable of carrying a sufficient amount of shells if it decided to forgo most melee weaponry.

Dietrich proudly approached the mech's foot and slapped his palm against its armor. "Look at this beauty. Can't you see how lovingly I treated her all this time?"

Ves had to admit that the VXC-4B was well-maintained. Evidently the technicians under the employ of the Whalers didn't dare slack off concerning Dietrich's personal mech. It must be the only time they actually earned their pay.

As Ves had little experience working on finished mechs, he might as well take the chance to study the Harrier. He borrowed the workshop's diagnostic tools to scan the Harrier from top to bottom. The readings told him that the mech had over a quarter of its parts replaced, and not all of the new parts were standard. In particular, it was difficult to get replacement armor plates from a source other than National Aeromotives directly. Naturally they charged sky-high prices for replacements.

With his vastly improved Mechanics skill, Ves noted that whoever repaired the armor had some skills, but did not account for every factor. He guessed that the mech's center of balance was slightly out of alignment, which affected a host of things that did not result in anything good.

"I can see it needs some work. If you don't mind, I'll be taking some things apart and replacing them with something else."

"Be my guest, Ves. That why I've invited you here for. As long as you can make my baby run better, I'm okay with anything."

It was reassuring to hear Dietrich place so much trust in Ves. For now, their interests aligned. The bonds between the two tightened as they mutually sought to take advantage of each other. Ves wanted to shelter under the umbrella of the Whalers, while Dietrich sought to enlist a high-end engineer.

Ves went to work on the Harrier. He first took out all of the replacement armor and set them aside. He then inspected the internals underneath and made a few calculations. If he wanted to reset the center of balance, then he had to move stuff around. One bad habit that National Aeromotives never shook off is that it inherited Jason Kozlowski's penchant of stuffing too much goodies in very little space.

Fortunately, the Harrier wasn't so bad in that regard. NA certainly tried to curb their habits as much as possible so Ves didn't have to risk bumping into something delicate when he moved a couple of minor components around.

One limiting factor was that over a quarter of the internals were dedicated to supporting the flight system. Ves lacked the expertise to play around with these components without screwing up the mech's flight capabilities. His background in ballistic weaponry was also too shallow for him to tweak the ballistic rifle, let alone understand it completely.

"I should try to plug this hole a bit once I have some DP to spare. I can't rely on beginner's knowledge concerning weaponry forever if I want to keep up with the higher echelons of mech designers."

Overall, the mech technicians had done a good job keeping the Harrier in shape. Ves did not have to correct any glaring errors, just minor misjudgments.

He did add one little surprise. His hands sneaked into the pouch carrying all of Lucky's gems and withdrew a dusky jasper. The round gem's appearance evoked a layered landscape, though Ves paid little attention to that. The unassuming gem had a property of improving the mech's agility by 1%. He sneakily installed the gem inside a well-protected alcove where technicians were least likely to inspect.

"Hopefully it will do its job." Ves muttered and turned his attention to putting the mech back together.

He took the replacement armor plates to a hammering tool and lightly worked them over so they conformed a little better to the Harrier. The mistake the technicians made was to think it was sufficient picking any random armor plating that weighed about the same and shape it in the exact way as the old one. In reality, each armor exhibited different properties and should always be treated from a fresh perspective.

After Ves put the armor plates back in, he requested Dietrich to enter the cockpit and test the mech. The re-tuned machine moved fluently and with grace despite the large flight system getting in the way of its movements.

"It feels great! It's like all of my aches and sores have gone away."

The improvement was marginal, but every little bit counted. Both Ves and Dietrich were satisfied with the work. While the mech's specs hardly moved, Dietrich piloted his mech more naturally.

Ves realized that tuning existing mechs might not be a waste of time. It took very little effort and investment on his part to bring up a mech back to full functionality. If Ves ever ran into a dry spell of orders, he could advertise his abilities as a mech tuner and earn some pocket money by tinkering with older mechs such as the Harrier.

After making sure nothing blew up in their faces, Ves said goodbye to Dietrich and finished his other preparations. He stopped by at Sanyal-Ablin's office and paid a little extra money to keep his security suite functioning even when he was away for an extended period of time.

"It is regretful that you declined our offer to escort you to Leemar." Robyn added after they dealt with this matter. "While the main space routes of the Coalition are well-patrolled, nothing is absolute. And that isn't even taking into consideration what can happen planetside."

"I really do wish I can hire your bodyguard, but my financial situation simply doesn't allow it." Ves excused himself as he stood and left for the exit. "However, that doesn't mean I will pass you by in the future. Once I get a good volume of sales, I'll be sure to take advantage of your other services."

"That sounds wonderful, Mr Larkinson. We are always ready to serve your needs."

When Ves returned to his workshop, he packed up his luggage and made sure to stow away all the loose tools and bots. He turned off and set the 3D printer and assembler into hibernation mode. As Ves turned off the lights, he wondered how much would change once he returned from Leemar.

"Hopefully I'll come back as a triumphant apprentice to a renowned master."

Ves had a fitful night of sleep as his excitement was hard to suppress. He lived, studied and worked in the Bright Republic for his entire life. Never had he stepped foot on a star beyond the borders of his familiar state.

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The Ricklins gathered at an open field next to Vincent's mansion. Normally, the elders of the vaunted family never paid attention to Vincent. However, the duel he so loudly proclaimed in the news inadvertently involved the family's honor.

Some bystanders might become surprised to see someone cared about Vincent's reputation for once. The difference from previous situations was that Vincent only disgraced himself with dubious lifestyle choices so far. How could anything he do be any worse?

The key difference involved mechs. Values such as honor, bravery and service to your state were intertwined with modern society. As disgraceful Vincent had already been, chickening out a duel not once but twice would smear their name to such an extent that they'd start to lose business opportunities.

"Where the coward who calls himself a mech pilot!?" A booming voice broadcasted from a tall and bulky heavy mech. "For all his bragging, he better be here on time! I don't want to miss my own victory party."

At both sides of the field stood two groups of spectators. The smaller group was obviously the Ricklins, along with a smattering of Vincent's playboy friends. On the other side of the field stood a similar group of elders and young second generation princes. It was evident without saying that Vincent attracted the ire of the backing of his opponent.

Keeping both sides safe were guards and security screens. Scores of technicians were busy preparing the field by setting up strengthened security screens that did not lose out to the powerful shields that kept arena battles contained. Just beyond the perimeter were scores of patrolling mechs. No outsider would have the opportunity to sneak close.

Within the core of Ricklin elders sat a dainty, fresh-eyed maiden. Her petite body contrasted remarkably with her predatory blue eyes. She flipped her exquisite blond locks and yawned.

"When will my idiot brother arrive?" Catelyn asked one of her many attendants. "It's almost time to start."

"Young Miss, word has just arrived that Vincent has boarded his new mech. He should be here in a couple of minutes."

"Always late to the party I see. As usual."

The young heiress of the Ricklin line thought this duel was a waste of time. Vincent had no skill in piloting mechs despite possessing the requisite aptitude. Their descendants never produced potentates, thus they never valued honor and duty. What was the point of dying in combat when you could pay someone else to do it in your stead? Money was the real road to power. Personal combat prowess was irrelevant in her eyes.

Nevertheless, just because the Ricklins took a dim view on duels didn't mean that others thought the same. In this modern, mech-obsessed age, to receive a challenge and refuse outright was a sign of cowardice. To issue a subsequent challenge and not show up was a sign that your entire family line was craven and untrustworthy.

Catelyn gnashed her teeth, the force of which could crack any baseline human's teeth. After many years of lying low, Vincent had gone overboard with his excessive personality and crossed the line. It was a mistake long in the making, but the Ricklins were blindsided when it finally happened. Even her vaunted intellect hadn't anticipated such an incident due to her innate disdain for her older and genetically inferior brother.

When Vincent finally stomped over with his new mech, everyone stopped their small talk and gaped at the sight. A majestic black, red and golden mech approached the improvised arena with immeasurable confidence. It was as if it mistook the astonishment from the crowd with worship.

"What. Is. That?" Catelyn growled.

"It appears to be… a codpiece."

The modified Marc Antony made for a unique sight. While the cape and embedded lights were bad enough, the extra piece of equipment mounted at the front of the waist attracted everyone's attention. No one could get their head around why a mech needed a codpiece.

"You're a goner, Turin, because I have something you don't!" Vincent confidently boomed out of his brand new mech's speakers. "There's no way a man can lose to a eunuch!"

The situation escalated from there. Turin, the pilot of the heavy knight, raged inside the cockpit. "You… clown! You've gone too far! I'll beat you up and kick that stupid organ into scrap!"

"Hahahaha! I don't need to listen to a sissy hiding in a heavy mech like you! I bet yours is so small that you feel the need to compensate by-"

"That's enough! I'm going to shut your mouth!" Turin yelled back as he exploded into action.

The crowd was caught off-guard by the heavy mech's impulsive action. The technicians who were busy installing the security screens quickly rushed their work in order to safeguard their clients. A couple of knights stepped closer and stood in front of the crowd in order to shield them from any errant shots or flying debris.

Catelyn's head guard stared worriedly at the charging heavy knight. "Perhaps it is better to step back. We cannot trust these security screens to shield us completely."

"Yes, let's. There is no need to witness this barbarity this close."

The Ricklins calmly walked away, intent on enlarging the buffer between them and the impending violence.

Meanwhile, the heavy knight lumbered closer to the Marc Antony, which still stood as if it was preening into the sun. Just as the heavy knight was about to collide with the medium mech, something inexplicable happened.

The heavy knight adjusted its course and avoided Vincent's mech. Instead, it continued to careen forward without any sign of stopping.

"What is happening?"

"Did he miss on purpose?!"

"Turin isn't stopping! He's going to collide against the security screen!"

The hastily erected security screen broke like a pane of glass when the multiton heavy mech barreled right through. Its momentum bled off, but the knight resumed its stride and collided its shield against a nearby Ricklin mech.

Chaos ensued as many other mechs suffered from surprise attacks. Most of the mechs stationed in the field came from Vincent and Turin's retinue. Many of these mechs inexplicably suffered from malfunctions and shut down just as they stepped forward to stop the madness.

It was not that the Ricklins thought to bring other guards. As they assigned these guards to Vincent themselves, they were assured of their ironclad loyalty. While their loyalty might not be in question, the local technicians who maintained their mechs were obviously different.

Thus, many mechs found themselves frozen and unable to move at all. Only some mechs brought from the outside still functioned properly and moved to stop Turin and Vincent's rampage.

"Young miss! Vincent and Turin have gone crazy! They're assassination you!"

"I can see that for myself, you dummy! Let's go!"

The group of pampered elites scrambled to flee. They approached the nearby site where they parked their luxury aircars, only for Catelyn to halt.

"Stop!"

Despite her youth, most Ricklins with decades of experience under their belt obeyed. They turned to her as if she was their only hope.

"Who designated the parking area?"

"As far as I know, Vincent's personal assistant made all the arrangements. I'm fairly certain that Johnson is the one who directed us to park over there."

"Then it isn't safe. Who knows how many explosives these rebels have planted underneath. Let's turn in a different direction!"

As Catelyn's words made sense, none argued otherwise. Despite the temptation offered by the aircars, this was evidently a planned assassination.

More evidence came from the chaos happening at the edge of the field. An outside party engaged most of the perimeter guard mechs that were still intact. From the amount of noise the distant battle generated, the terrorists came in ample numbers.

"Spread out! Don't bundle up too close!"

While Turin engaged the closest mechs, Vincent finally made his move. His shoulder-mounted missile launchers expended their entire payload in one go. The deadly guided projectiles aimed straight at Caitlyn and the other Ricklin elders.

A couple of still-functional elite guards jumped in the way with their shields. Just as they braced themselves for impact, a couple of the projectiles accelerated with such force that they pushed the mechs aside.

"Those are concussive missiles!"

The rest of the missiles also displayed unusual traits by smoothly going around any mechs in the way. Only anti-missile fire was effective in stopping them. Just as the surviving volley landed at the group of panicking Ricklins, the final guard mech threw out his shield and used its own body to block the final payloads.

"Ahh!"

The shockwaves threw many people off their feet. The burning radiance of the explosions hadn't taken out the mech, but dealt severe damage beyond any regular missile on the market.

"Haha, you're mine now, little sis!" Vincent laughed hysterically as his customized mech stomped over a disabled mech. The Marc Antony dropped its shield and raised both arms in Catelyn's direction. The wrist-mounted laser cannons charged up for a full-powered salvo. "Any last words?"

Catelyn coughed as she rose from her knees. "I see you're more stupid than I thought, big brother. Do you think that just because you've been secretly training your piloting skills that you've got an edge on me? Imbecil!"

"Shut up! I'm tired of listening to your condescending insults. You should have died in the lab like the rest of your worthless batch!"

His mech fired of both cannons at once. Though their accuracy wasn't great, at this short distance they came close enough to vaporize any human by proximity alone. The lasers reached Catelyn's position at light speed. An area the size of an aircar parking lot instantly got scorched with an immense amount of thermal energy.

Scores of Ricklin elders who were too slow to run very far got turned into ash and smoke. Those who ran just a little faster got blasted with so much heat that their clothes turned into tar and ash while exposing their bodies with a lethal dose of heat. They fell down to the ground like melted candles. Only the younger generation managed to escape the blast zone with minimal wounds.

"Hahahaha! For all your snooty words, look at me now!"

As the blackened smoke cleared, the site where his laser cannons struck was a mass of heated devastation. Nothing other than a tank or a mech could have survived such a powerful blast. At least, that was what Vincent thought.

A strange bubble enveloped Catelyn's body. She stood proudly intact inside the shield, unbothered by the heat and ash. As scores of badly burned Ricklins moaned at the edges of the blast site, the young genetically modified girl appeared nonchalant at the carnage. Her expression even stared mockingly at Vincent.

"What is this shield? How come it's so powerful?"

"You're not the only one with powerful friends." The younger sister taunted. "You're welcome to shoot me again. I dare say I can hold you off before my backup arrives."

As Vincent stared at his surviving sister in horror, a series of sirens started to erupt from the city proper. Explosions and other sounds of battle started to drum in the distance. All over Bentheim, unassuming mercenary groups started to board their mechs and attacked without reason.

According to the plan, Vincent should already be finished with his revenge and make his way towards a nearby escape shuttle. The timetable was tight, and Vincent couldn't afford to hammer away at Catelyn's strange shield if he wanted to escape from the Planetary Guard.

He gritted his teeth as he made a difficult decision. He could always enact his revenge later. His own life was more important. "Turin! Stop playing around and let's go!"

Even as their strike against Catelyn failed, they still managed to cull most of the other Ricklins. Their comrades-in-arms stationed elsewhere in Bentheim also succeeding in their surprise attacks. Bentheim's infrastructure suffered serious damage, and the death toll rapidly rose as the fires spread.

It was the prelude to war.

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Back in Cloudy Curtain, Ves woke up with tired eyes. Since yesterday, he prepared his departure with Dietrich. They booked a brief flight to one of Bentheim's orbital space station and wait for their long-distance passenger ship to arrive.

A call interrupted his final preparations. Ves picked up the comm and Marcella's worried face showed up.

"Ves, about your trip. Perhaps it's best to make yourself scarce for a month or two. There's trouble afoot."

This sounded serious. Something that disturbed the unflappable Marcella should not be a trivial matter.

"What happened?"

"It's about Vincent Ricklin. He's gone mad. He went on a rampage when he demonstrated your customized Marc Antony's prowess to his family."

Just hearing Vincent's name again made Ves wish he reconsidered doing business with him in the first place. Sure, the credits was nice, but if he did something serious enough for Marcella to call him in the morning, then it was bound to be bad.

"How bad is it, and how will it affect me?"

"He tried to fire his laser cannons on the presumptive heir of the Ricklins, a lass called Catelyn. Somehow, she survived, though how I don't know, but many other elders failed to get away from the blast area. Vincent bulled through the household guards and escaped from Bentheim with a well-prepared escape shuttle."

That sounded like a lot of trouble. Though Ves was uninvolved with this terrorist attack, he'd be in for a lot of scrutiny just by providing the mech to Vincent.

"Did the Mech Corps catch him?"

The frown in Marcella's face grew even more grim. "No. He had help that delayed the rapid response units. Pirates somehow smuggled themselves onto Bentheim and caused enough chaos to cover Vincent's escape. Nearby patrol ships all found themselves crippled by explosions when they attempted to chase their escape vessels. They've succeeded in pulling off the most blatant attack on Bentheim."

The news was incredibly bad for all those who had an inkling of involvement with the events.

"How's the casualties?"

"Excluding the Ricklins, over two hundred people have fallen in the ensuing chaos. The pirates weren't subtle in their actions. You know the damage a mech can do in a densely populated city."

It must be a nightmare back in Bentheim. Even the most casual laser fire might cut through a building and wipe out a dozen innocent bystanders. The injured must run up in the thousands.

"I can't stay behind." Ves said as he simultaneously felt conflicted. "As bad as I feel right now, I'm really innocent. You know the Marc Antony is a lastgen mech. It's hardly an elite mech in today's standards."

"That's why I support your impromptu vacation. Right now the public is in a frenzy and the Mech Corps has fallen flat in securing the star system. The investigators must be in a frenzy right now and it won't be long before they send someone your way."

"I think my family can stall them. The Larkinsons have always been loyal to the Republic and they have some say in military circles."

"Well, you best call on your daddy because this show is just starting."

He worriedly hung up on Marcella and with just a brief moment of hesitation he called his grandfather.

Perhaps anticipating his call, Benjamin Larkinson appeared on his screen. His unflappable face already radiated assurance to Ves. "I know what's going on, and I know you're not guilty of anything."

"Thanks, grandpa." Ves sighed as the reassurance comforted him. "I was planning on travelling to Leemar in order to take part in the open competition there. Could you help me smooth over my departure? This event is really important to me and my career and I can't afford to miss this opportunity due to being held back for questioning."

"I can guarantee that the investigators give you fair treatment, but any sudden departure will look suspicious. I can hold them back from chasing after you if you open up your records and let their people scour your workshop."

As Ves carried his real secrets in his comm, he had no problems letting others take a peek. Sanyal-Ablin pretty much saw everything there was to his workshop when they installed their security suite. Letting the government grab a good look was nothing to fuss about.

"They can do whatever they want as long as my workshop stays intact at the end. I still need to make a living, you know. I hope you can impress that on whoever is coming here to find something that doesn't exist."

"Oh you can be certain I won't let them get out of line." Benjamin grinned. "I've kept an eye on you and I can say that you've made us proud. The last thing I want to do is to let your hard work get ruined. So don't worry. I'll call in some favors and try to suppress any suspicions on you. It's just that some suspicion will never go away."

His grandfather was right. Having his second ever produced mech be involved in a violent terrorist incident was going to be a black mark in his record. But Ves did not let it drag down his hopes. He still had a way to redeem himself if he worked hard.

"What do you think the investigators will do if I return a couple months later as an apprentice to a Master Mech Designer?"

The old man's eyes widened. Even a senior military official like him was nothing but an ant compared to a venerated master. "You will find that many obstacles will melt away like snow in a warm spring day. The prestige of a Master Mech Designer is not to be trifled with. Even a casual apprenticeship to such an eminent person will deter all gossip."

In the end, it came to power and backing. If Ves had studied at an elite institution from the Friday Coalition, he'd never had to worry about being detained for days.

"I'll hopefully return triumphant, grandpa."

"Go then. Spread your wings and see the worlds beyond the Republic. It's a tumultuous place in the center of the star sector. You will see many riches and wonders. Just remember that all of that wealth and power is built upon a foundation of strength."

After Benjamin terminated the call, Ves made some additional preparations. He sent a message to Robyn that SASS should let any official investigators enter his workshop without challenge. He then sent another message to the Little Boss with a summary of the situation and telling him to meet at the spaceport immediately.

"Well, guess I'm out of here. Let's go Lucky."

Man and gem cat turned to look at the workshop for the last time before entering the aircar. Ves browsed the news as his taxi zipped towards the spaceport. The footage the news broadcasters streamed to the rest of the Republic showed that Bentheim had descended into chaos.

Its openness as a port system worked against securing the planet. Too many mercenaries with shady affiliations entered the planet. Some of them turned out to be disguised pirates that somehow fooled Bentheim's stringent security checks.

Worse yet, in the hunt for pirates, the overzealous Planetary Guard sometimes struck mercenaries who were not involved in today's premeditated assault. The battles threatened to spill out and cause even further casualties.

What hurt Ves the most was the occasional footage of what sparked this ambush. The highly modified Marc Antony with its codpiece and all raised its laser cannons and shot straight at a group of defenseless bystanders. The news stations immortalized the brief recording with how hard they tried to send it out to the rest of the star sector.

"Damn it. Forget about the codpiece, Vincent's mere involvement will be an unerasable black mark in my record."

As he hastily suggested to his grandfather, his only way to redeem himself was to achieve his goals in Leemar. Only by attaining some kind of formidable backing would he be able to endure the scrutiny.

The commentators and pundits already speculated on the influence that attacked the Republic. Nobody really believed a bunch of noname pirates planned, funded, manned and executed the intricate raid all by themselves. A lot of Republicans pointed the finger at the Monarchists of the Vesia Kingdom despite the lack of any convincing evidence that hinted at their hand.

Even Ves found this theory compelling. As a homebred citizen of the Bright Republic, he was raised to regard the Vesia Kingdom as their archrivals. Only the Vesians had sufficient motives to find trouble with the Republic.

"Hey, Ves. It's a bad day today." Dietrich finally greeted him once he arrived by the spaceport. The Little Boss looked quite subdued at the moment as he worried for the wellbeing of Walter's Whalers. "I feel kind of bad leaving my mates behind."

"We're only gone for two months or so. A war won't erupt this soon."

Actually, Ves had no idea what was going on behind the scenes. He just said that to reassure his bodyguard. The two subdued young men eagerly boarded a large passenger transport to Bentheim with their floating luggage bots. Besides that, Ves brought an ever-curious Lucky along while Dietrich already stowed away his mech in a container aboard their ship.

The passenger ship was only half-filled this time, an oddity attributed to the attack. Some sought safety in Bentheim's large numbers, but most locals felt it was best to stay on their quiet, unimportant planet and avoid the giant target Bentheim represented. After all, the Vesians never hid their desire to engulf the port system.

The trip to Bentheim was brief an uneventful, save for the additional security measures. The transport had to stop in space and allow inspectors to scan each passenger and piece of cargo in person. One of the inspectors paused briefly when he scanned Ves, but whatever instructions he received forced him to move on.

The people who went over Dietrich's mech added extra seals to his machine. This didn't stop him from using his mech in an emergency, but it took an experienced mech technician at least half an hour to make it battle-ready.

As they arrived at the Bentheim spaceport, they encountered a deluge of humanity. Scores of soldiers kept the peace as they tried to corral the emigrating people in a semblance of order. Ves could only rely on Dietrich's strength to squeeze through the mobs.

"This is insane!" Ves yelled at Dietrich as they waited behind a line. His words could barely be heard over the panicked din of conversation. "There's so many people seeking safer refuge!"

"It's better if these cowards get out. They're nothing but useless sacks of meat."

Eventually, they made use of their priority boarding access and entered a much more orderly area. Only the affluent could afford business-class tickets that allowed them passage on a premium spaceline. Both Ves and Dietrich looked out the window to behold the giant monstrosity that carried them out of the Republic.

TORCH OF THE VANGUARD

Townsends Spacelines

The patriotic name referred to some kind of event or myth that happened early in the Bright Republic's history. While the Republic subsidized the construction of the ship, the operating owners of the entire line resided in the Coalition.

Marcella highly recommended this line to Ves. The enormous passenger ship plied the spaceways from the Republic to all of the other third-rate states in between until she finally reached the edge of Coalition space. Then she travelled the same way back, escorted by a small contingent of space-capable mechs.

Naturally, all of this safety, luxury and speed came at a cost. Ves and Dietrich parted with a whopping hundred-and-fifty thousand bright credits each, and that was just for business class. The passenger ship offered even more extravagant tiers that came with private swimming pools and state-of-the-art sparring arenas.

"Here's to a new adventure." Ves whispered to himself as he held Lucky tight and followed the excited Dietrich aboard the magnificent vessel.

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Dietrich and Ves entered a modestly luxurious compartment where they stayed for the duration of the trip. It featured as much space as half a house. Besides offering two separate bedrooms, it featured an opulent living room decorated with generous amounts of gold and blue, the spaceline's oft-used colors.

What Ves particularly liked was that a door led to a small, private workspace with a secured terminal. With the promised privacy offered by Townsend Airlines, Ves could work on his designs in peace. He planned to do a lot of catching up now that he had time to spare.

"Man, these beds are great! Don't mind if I bring some company over, if you know what I mean." Dietrich suggestively said as he jumped right onto the bouncy mattress of his chosen bed.

Ves studiously ignored the implications of those words as he calmly packed his luggage away. Lucky roamed around the room with adventurous mirth, pawing his forearm against a shiny vase.

"Whoa! Look at the prices of this dinner menu! They're charging forty-seven thousand credits for the top 18-course meal!"

"Don't even think about it Dietrich. I don't think either of us can afford to squander so much money. Besides, we already paid for complementary meals."

In actuality, the Torch of the Vanguard greatly resembled cruise ships whose sole purpose was to tour the most interesting sights in space. The main boulevards inside the ship was lined with shops featuring handcrafted luxuries. Those interested in culture could visit the museums and various theaters. As for those more immersed in the world of mechs, a small arena was nested at the bowels of the vessels.

The Torch was like a city unto itself, one that travelled constantly from system to system. The amount of credits it took to keep it running was astronomical. The frugal Ves disliked wasting so much credits on a simple passage, but that was the price to ensure his safety. The cheaper spacelines all had dubious records when it came to protecting their passengers from errant pirate raids.

As Ves was just about to join Dietrich outside to witness the ship's departure, he received a priority call. He picked it up and met Marcella's ambivalent face.

"Looks like you've got some news Marcella."

"Somewhat. You know you gave access of your Iron Spirit designer account to me right? Well I set some triggers in case anything unusual happened, and one of them tripped this morning. You should head to a terminal and see for yourself what has happened."

Hopefully his account wasn't banned for terrorism or something. Ves told Dietrich to wait and quickly sat before a terminal. Luckily, Iron Spirit's lobby already came installed on the terminal though full immersion wasn't possible without simulation pods. As he entered the game, he checked his statistics.

"What the? Thirty-one CA-C1 Marc Antony's got sold?"

Just as Ves sat back with amazement, he saw the ticker of his sales count increase by one, meaning another of his virtual mechs got sold.

"For better or worse, the infamy of today's incident drew a spotlight to your mechs. I've even received some offers for you to replicate your customized mech."

"Really? Including the codpiece?"

"Especially the codpiece. You don't seem to realize how much of a trendsetter you've unwittingly become. There are already some other mechs who's sporting the same kind of codpiece."

That sounded like he was getting ripped off. "That's my design! They shouldn't be able to copy it without my permission!"

"That's why I'm calling you. First, you should raise the prices of your virtual mechs, at least the ones based on the Caesar Augustus. Second, register your customized design at the MTA so that anyone that wants to copy your codpiece design will have to cough up some money. Third, while it's your personal choice, I really suggest you put up your customized design for sale ingame. I can guarantee you it will sell like hotcakes."

Ves nodded and agreed with some of the proposals. He talked a bit more about how to take advantage of his design's current infamy and the tradeoff between achieving a lot of sales versus keeping his reputation clean.

While Ves greatly valued his reputation, he was willing to put it aside when it came to earning DP. The precious Design Points were notoriously different to earn, but right now the unintentional publicity concerning his second ever Marc Antony changed the equation. He quickly called up his status and grinned uncontrollably at the amount of DP he earned from the virtual sales.

"With every five-star virtual mech sold, I get fifty DP from the System. Combined with other incidental sales along with my previous savings, I'm already looking at 1800 DP."

The magnetic pull of earning shiploads of DP had overridden any other practical concerns. His eyes turned into shining gems of DP as he tried to envision what he could buy with the System's most valuable currency. Even purchasing one of the expensive attribute boosts from the Item Store was not out of the question.

"Considering my next destination, I can use all the DP I can get."

The System gave him the daunting task of apprenticing himself to a master. These eminent personalities were spoiled for choice. They could pick from tens of thousands of hopeful mech designers at any time. The only way Ves could stand out and receive an opportunity to beg them for an apprenticeship was to perform well in the upcoming open competition.

Coming from a third-rate state, Ves was quite aware of his backwardness. His knowledge base paled in comparison to what even the worst novice learned in any of the Friday Coalition's colleges.

"I'm too far behind." He concluded. The inferiority gnawed at him. He already had a taste of how formidable the exclusive knowledge could be manifested when he faced all of those elite graduates in the Young Tigers Exhibition. Ves practically lucked out in reaching the finals, but he hit a solid wall in the form of Edwin McKinney.

Despite their similar ages, the mere difference in where they studied proved to be a decisive factor in how far they could go. A diploma from the Rittersberg University of Technology was worth less than the toilet paper of any of the Friday Coalition's vaunted universities.

"If I can't catch up to my rivals in terms of skills, I can forget about participating in Leemar."

With that thought, Ves decisively tweaked his online sales page. He left the prices the same but he did load his customized design into the game and put it on sale.

[CA-1CD Marc Antony, Male Variant]

Tier: 5-star

Base Model: Caesar Augustus CA-1

Purchase Price: 900,000 gold

Premium Price: 27,500 bright credits

The prices Ves charges were very generous and did not lose out to any other 5-star mechs. He elegantly attached the moniker of 'Male Variant' to the design, as if he simply meant to distinguish it from his genderless model. It sure sounded classier than the alternatives he came up with, such as 'Bling Edition' or 'Biggus Dickus'.

"Well, let's get you to work. I expect a lot of sales from you while the hype still lasts." He said to his latest product on sale, feeling a bit like a pimp pushing his whore to the streets.

He closed the terminal and left the cabin along with an impatient Dietrich. They navigated the gently illuminated halls with their carpets and artwork until they finally reached one of the observatory areas at the top of the ship.

A handful of other passengers stood around or sat at the many benches. They all gazed at the orbital space station spinning above Bentheim's chaotic surface. Their smug faces and low conversations made it clear that they did not hold much sympathy.

They were like gods sneering over the trials and tribulations of the mortals suffering beneath their feet.

Though Ves disliked such attitudes, there was no point coming into conflict with them. From their fancy suits and dresses, he gathered that they could easily crush him by their net worths alone.

"A lot of people are running away." Dietrich huffed as he scratched his stubble. "Can't say I blame them. If you have the money, why not move to somewhere better? Hey, will you move as well if you make it into the big leagues?"

Ves shook his head as he admired the jewel of a planet underneath his feet. "The Republic is my home. It doesn't feel right abandoning my homeland."

Frankly, the System was a cheat. Any ordinary mech designer had to seek apprenticeships from masters living in more developed states. As for him, as long as he kept selling mechs he'd earn enough DP to develop his chosen skills. He enjoyed an incredible luxury over his fellow designers that allowed him to avoid pledging his loyalty to a greater party.

Every passenger and all their cargo finished boarding the passenger ship. The mighty Torch slowly lumbered into life as a fraction of its powerful engines started to detach the ship from the space station. Escorted and helped along by a couple of tugs, the spaceship headed straight towards a Lagrange point, skipping past many smaller vessels along the way.

"All that money sure is well-spent. Evidently our ship is important enough to skip the queue."

Faster than Ves had thought, the Torch reached the approximate area where gravity allowed the ship to jump into FTL. With a disembodying zip, the vessel emerged into the swirling confusion of physics referred to simply as FTL space. The scientists had a proper name for it, but no one cared.

"Right, the show's over. This is going to take a while. Let's go grab some drinks."

Ves didn't decline Dietrich's invitation. He had a long month ahead of him and he could use some relaxation before he started to go to work. He wanted to use his time well and prepare as best he could for Leemar.

Still, internally he felt insecure. No Master Mech Designers were willing to waste their valuable time instructing an average apprentice. They presided over major organisations that allowed them the pick the cream of the crop. Most masters adopted promising geniuses when they just started their studies into mech design, sometimes even earlier.

To a master, an apprenticeship represented more than a simple exchange of knowledge. A good apprentice carried the name and reputation of his master as he exercised skills derived from his master's unique insights. Thus, a meticulous master was said to emphasize the teaching of their design philosophy.

As Ves followed Dietrich to the entertainment section of the ship, he wondered what his philosophy consisted of. Certainly his meager focus in speed and armor was not sufficient to form an ethos.

"The only thing that's truly unique to all my designs is my emphasis on X-Factor."

He wasn't sure if he could find any similar approach to the masters present in Leemar. Likely he had to keep that secret locked up in order to avoid attracting the wrong kind of attention. In fact, Ves wasn't sure if seeking a closer relationship with a master had any benefits for him. The System already offered him an entire galaxy's worth of knowledge.

"Well, even if I'm not very serious about finding a master, I should still do it to complete the quest."

He wondered what the System intended by forcing him to travel so far away. Was he wrong about the usefulness of a master? Was it worth getting close to one and risk exposing his many secrets?

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To planetbound people, the notion of space travel required a bit of explanation to figure it out. Despite the immensity of the galaxy, it mostly consisted of empty space with a couple of stars in between. The sheer scale of it caused those 'couple' of stars to pile up into many billions.

It took a lot of time to travel from one star to another, even with FTL. It was not as if FTL travel was too slow, but it took a lot of calculations and precision to nail the right destination. A single percent deviation in the coordinates could throw a ship off-course by hundreds of light-years.

Only through vital port systems could ships speed up their navigation. Like lighthouses in the dark, they allowed distant ships to hone in on a location much easier, with much less risk of overshooting their destination.

A highly advanced vessel such as the Torch of the Vanguard was capable of performing the monstrous calculations necessary to jump over entire states. The moment she entered FTL, she was on course to a star system from a neighboring state. Her modern FTL drive compressed an awe-inspiring distance of dozens of light-years to a mere two-day journey.

Not that Ves, Dietrich or any other passenger paid attention to the ship's incredible speed. Technology such as this was commonplace, though on the expensive side.

Instead, Dietrich half-dragged Ves into one of the vessel's many bars. As it was still universal daytime, the rather plain-looking drinking hole looked rather sparse. Most of the patrons wore the uniform of Townsend Spacelines, their tight collars unzipped and faces relaxed as they enjoyed an off-shift moment.

"Hey there! Two Crincho's please!"

The human bartender poured a couple of beers from the tap and slid it over the counter. Dietrich grabbed one mug and gulped down a generous amount. "Ah, this Crincho is a lot better than the swill in our local joint. Our supplier is ripping us off!"

"It's not very cheap to ship goods over to our planet." Ves said as he took a modest sip, still a bit uncomfortable. "And it's not like our planet is loaded. We can't afford to spend as much as a Bentheimer."

Both of them commiserate for a moment over Cloudy Curtain's pathetic economy. The backwater system lacked a robust industrial base that transformed cheap raw materials into expensive end products. In terms of resources, its asteroid fields only held common junk such as iron ores and ice. The planets also failed to distinguish themselves.

In a universe with billions of stars, humanity did not lack basic resources. Any random corporation could hire a bunch of miners and drop them at a random unclaimed star system. No, what most people paid attention to nowadays were exotic resources, something that became scarce as one left the center of the galaxy. The Bright Republic happened to be situated at the very end of a galactic arm.

"Pssst." Dietrich bumped his elbow into Ves as he nodded towards an incoming pair of passengers. "Chicks spotted at three o'clock."

Ves raised his eyebrow and wanted to say something like 'so what?', but a hand suddenly dragged him from his barstool. The two young men quickly approached the pair of girls.

Though dressed informally, the pair of women looked resplendent. The pair of raven-haired goddesses resembled each other so much they must be sisters. The taller one was sportier and not afraid to show her abs with her exposed midriff. The shorter one dressed more conservatively but had a curvier body. Both of them stopped their conversation and regarded the approaching hunters.

"Hey there beautiful ladies, what brings you here to this fine vessel?"

The girls both giggled behind their raised hands. The elder sister took the lead. "Oh you know, worried parents wanting to send us to somewhere safe."

Dietrich continued to put the moves on the elder sister, obviously leaving the younger one to Ves.

Gulping a little, he said, "Hey. What's your name?"

"Rose. Rose Allemaier."

"What is it you do in life?"

"I'm in my last year of finishing my degree in Terran Ecology. And you?"

"I'm an independent mech designer. I just started my business a few months ago and managed to achieve a couple of sales."

Ves boasted a little about his accomplishments, but Rose's eyes slowly glazed over. Sensing the disinterest, he changed topics. He struggled to catch Rose's interests but couldn't judge if he succeeded.

Meanwhile, Dietrich and the older sister named Piper got along swimmingly. He even put his hand around her hips and drew her closer.

He wished he had brought Lucky along instead of letting him laze about back in the cabin. As Ves conducted a halting conversation with the demure Rose, not making a lot of headway into learning more about the girl.

"It's been fun, but we gotta go back to our parents." Piper said as she bumped her comm against Dietrich's wrist, exchanging contacts. "See you around!"

As the two women left, Dietrich stared at Ves while scratching his head. "Man, seeing the two of you stumble around makes me embarrassed to say you're my friend. Did you grow up in a cave or something?"

"I spent most of my energy on my career. I couldn't afford to get distracted by girls."

The Little Boss gazed at Ves as if he was an alien. "Man, that sounds sad. You should get out more. This is the best time of our lives. Don't wait until you grow wrinkles before you start entering the dating scene. It's far too late by then!"

He blathered on about the art of picking up girls. The man talked with gusto, attracting a couple of other same-minded men who shouted liberal amounts of advice. It turned into a small show where they all attempted to teach the nerd how to get along with the opposite sex.

Ves only half-listened to everyone's drunken words as he focused more on how he should spend his steadily accumulating Design Points. With the infamy of his model driving his sales, he could afford to round out his foundations. Forget about getting in bed with girls, he'd rather jump into a pool of DP.

"Heavens, you're pretty much hopeless. Nevermind." Dietrich concluded as he threw down his empty mug. "Let's go explore the shops. I'm itching to see what fancy things are available here. There might even be some goods that can only be found in the Friday Coalition."

The boulevards lining the main passageways offered high-end products at even higher prices. Every store quoted their prices in coalition credits, or cols for short. One clothing store charged fifty-thousand cols for a single men's outfit, while an ice-cream store offered deluxe flavors at a thousand cols per scoop.

"What's the exchange rate?"

Ves opened his comm and programmed the device to automatically convert every col price in his sights. An overlay inside his eyes unobtrusively added the prices in bright credits.

He swore a bit at the ridiculous rate. "It's almost a hundred to one. Just add two zeroes to every col price you see."

That meant that men's outfit cost five million bright credits. To put it into perspective, Ves could build a quarter of a mech with that much money.

"These guys are fucking extravagant. It puts the money we paid for passage to shame."

"I have a feeling this spaceline never intended to earn a profit from ticket prices in the first place. This is practically a floating city in space. The passengers here are paying to experience life in the Coalition."

If the Torch of the Vanguard was a microcosm of the Coalition, then that meant their total wealth placed them in the lower-middle class in terms of affluence. In other words, they were nobodies.

"With this much money being spent on luxuries, it's a wonder why those second-rate states haven't cleaned up all the third-rate states in the vicinity."

"It's not worth it. The money needed to maintain their standard of living is unsustainable when compared to the amount of wealth they are able to generate from our poorer territories."

That was the simple explanation. Ves had no doubt other concerns held back these second-rate behemoths. Still, the words he said still rang true. Without sufficient exotic resources, the second-rate states had no reason to expand their territories. It was like annexing a trash heap. It stank and ruined their views.

The high prices ruined their mood for window shopping. They separated from each other as Ves wanted to return to his cabin. With his safety guaranteed to an extent, Dietrich was free to explore the underbelly of the ship where various kinds of bloodsports and duels were held.

"Have fun down there, and don't get pulled into any bets. I still need you to accompany to Leemar and back you know."

"Sure, sure, I'll be fine mom." Dietrich rolled his eyes. "You've got my comm, so holler at me if you need some muscle."

"I'm sure the ship's security can handle most incidents. Though the chances aren't big, I'm more concerned about pirates and other raids. If you haven't noticed, the local star sector seems to be growing more unsettled."

Having followed the news, Ves learned the incident in Bentheim was not an isolated event. Various other third-rate states suffered from similar unsettling incidents. One planet had its fuel refinery explode, causing massive damage along with an excruciating loss of life.

What Ves found peculiar was that the groups that executed these terror attacks all looked different. The group that struck Bentheim agitated against the corrupt galactic corporations that supposedly puppeted the Bright Republic from the shadows. As for another terror group in another state, they fought for the rights of exploited miners.

"If anyone believes these guys are not related to each other, then I'll eat my comm."

He stopped wasting time on catching up with the news and turned to the MTA instead. As an organisation that dealt with all things mechs, it offered plenty of services to mech designers. Ves had already dealt with certification. Now he planned to access their open library.

"It's already generous for Director Chandler to give me a couple of books for free. He taught me there's still much to learn about the universe from books."

Naturally, knowledge taught by an able teacher could not replace rote memorization. The books available in the open library also had its limits. As Ves logged in the MTA's virtual library section, he had access to many books. However, he already saw that most focused on the fundamentals and core knowledge. Cutting-edge proprietary knowledge was wholly absent from the library.

"Luckily I don't have to rely on others to develop my specializations. The basics are good enough for me. Referencing the library will also create a paper trail for me to explain my sudden improvements in mechanics and other skills."

As he recently improved his Mechanics skill to journeyman, he wanted to stabilize his newly achieved realm by reading supplementary books. He filtered out most books concerning other topics and only limited himself to the best-selling primers at journeyman level.

ARTIFICIAL MUSCULATURE - HOW TO GO FASTER, by Master Ricardo Takanata. Price: 153,623 bright credits.

THE FORCES PROPELLING BIPEDAL MECHS: A BALANCED APPROACH, by Master R.I. Ulmer and Master F.M. Smith. Price: 346,535 bright credits.

THE JOURNEYMAN'S GUIDE TO MECH ENGINES, 74th EDITION, by Master Elia James, Master Alice Coventry and Master Christopher Lin. Price: 86,232 bright credits.

Ves practically bled out his heart when he spent his precious credits on those books. Most of the masters who authored or edited those books were renowned mech designers sitting at the top of the mech industry. The three books Ves selected formed the core of journeyman-level mechanics and even with his System-enhanced memories, he could still learn a lot from those books.

The prices were originally expressed in different currencies. Perhaps to those who lived in second-rate states, the prices were reasonable. But for He was certain the purchases would eventually pay off when he assimilated the knowledge, but it still represented a large chunk of his savings.

"It feels like I'm back in college. Well, as long as the ship is still in transit, I have more than enough time to digest these books."

Just as he was about to dive into his purchases, the front door of the cabin slid open. "VESSIEBOY! You gotta come downstairs! There's a pair of nextgen mechs about to duel each other in an hour! Gather up your credits and let's go bet!"

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The designers of the Torch of the Vanguard shaped it in a lengthy, triangular form. It looked like a stubby rod where the top was narrow in order to provide windows to every cabin and fat at the bottom to store lots of cargo. Thus, the underbelly of the ship had enough room to setup a small arena, shielded by the best screening technology the Friday Coalition could afford.

A large crowd already gathered around the high-tech stadium. Even for the Friday Coalition, seeing a nextgen mech perform was not an everyday sight. Only the elites from second-rate states were privileged to pilot such an expensive and powerful mech.

Naturally, the first-rate superstates treated nextgen mechs as their basic models. The cutting edge generation that they were still developing would be unleashed to the wider galaxy in about a decade. Ves was already apprehensive about the sea of changes that ensued with every generational leap.

"Hey Ves, can you explain to me what's so fancy about the next generation?"

Each new generation represented a major leap forward in a couple of areas of technology. Usually the incorporation of hitherto unknown exotic materials supported such innovation.

"I don't have the details, but I've heard the next generation is largely an advance in weapons and energy storage technology. Lasers and other types of direct energy weapons are more powerful and can deliver a higher burst of damage without damaging their weapons. High-end energy cells are also able to store more power. As for heat management, the improvement there hasn't caught up so mechs running energy weapons won't last as long."

"Okay, so lasers are gonna hit harder and longer but the heat management is going to be a bitch. Sounds like it's ideal for skirmisher-types. What about ballistic and missile weaponry?"

"There's no major innovation there, but weapons manufacturers have reduced the costs of much of their premium weaponry. It basically means that the other weapon types can catch up at the cost of reduced profits to manufacturers."

"Heh, sounds good. Those greedy bastards charge way too much for ammunition. It's about time they get to bleed."

Ves did not mention that armor systems also failed to keep up. That largely meant that battles between nextgen mechs were shorter and more intense. The risk of death increased while the amount of repairs and replenishments was going up. The strategic use of mechs was about to change in many ways.

They sat around the arena and waited for the show to start. It did not take too long for the stars to arrive.

"That's Wolf Greer of the Constellations! His Moonhowl mech once smashed three pirates at once with his Overload Fist!"

A bulky medium mech carrying twin pistols on its hips arrived first. Despite the pistols, the mech was built like a brawler, its main weapon being its reinforced fists. The pilot had guts for resorting to unarmed combat. The shorter range meant the mech had less reach and more importantly less leverage to punch through armor.

"What's the Overload Fist?"

"Don't know. We'll see it in action soon enough."

As Ves admired the Moonhowl's refined lines, its opponent came onto the stage as well.

The other mech weighed a little lighter than the Moonhowl. The large logo on its arm told the audience that the mech named Righteous Sword fought under the banner of the Winston Corps.

"That's Iris Peterson's famous Righteous Sword, one of the best sword mechs of the Coalition!"

The two nextgen mechs met each other in the middle of the arena. After a short handshake, they parted and stood at the standard dueling distance for small-sized arenas. The small setting gave the Righteous Sword a lot less room to run around. As a mech armed with nothing but a single sword, Iris needed all the room she could get in order to leverage her mech's superior mobility.

Now that the duelists made themselves known, the crowd started to make their bets. When Ves heard the amount of money they chipped in, he thought better of putting in his own bet.

Like a rural hick, Dietrich dropped his jaw. "Heavens, did that guy just bet the equivalent of two-hundred-million bright credits? He could feed an entire planet for a day with that much money!"

As soon as the bets tapered off, the organizers strengthened the security screens and greenlighted the duel.

"Start!"

The nextgen mechs exploded into action. As each nextgen mech represented the pinnacle of mechs from the Friday Coalition, Ves was ready to study how far they pushed the envelope.

The spectacle didn't disappoint. The forces the mechs were able to leverage caused the mechs to move with speed and power that put older mechs to shame. The Moonhowl especially embodied this as it sought to charge straight at the Righteous Sword.

The battle embodied the classic match between a brute and a mover. The Moonhowl excelled in straightforward fights and trading hits while the Radiant Sword sought to attack weak points and avoid getting entangled. In normal circumstances, Iris should have been able to leverage her advantage in mobility, but Wolf made good use of the cramped arena to slow her down.

"Enough of this!" Wolf broadcasted as his mech engaged a set of hidden boosters.

"Damn, that guy's timing is impeccable! There's no way for Iris to escape!"

The Righteous Sword was in the middle of fleeing to the side. Its momentum could not be redirected instantly. By the time it turned, the Moonhowl was already upon the slimmer mech.

As if knowing that any further evasions had no use, the Righteous Sword extended its sword. The Moonhowl shifted its orientation and position slightly by adjusting the power of its individual boosters at the very last moment. This caused the sword to punch through the side armor and miss the power reactor.

On the other hand, the Moonhowl's fists glowed red as some sort of strange energy enveloped the limb. Just as it was about to strike the Righteous Sword's cockpit, both mechs abruptly stopped.

"That's enough! The winner is Wolf Greer!"

Most of the crowd booed at the premature end of the duel. Even if the fist had hit, the damage it dealt might not cripple the Righteous Sword. Ves understood why the organisers shut down the fight so quickly. Repairing nextgen mechs was expensive and they did not want to weaken the power of their best escorts.

Dietrich shook his head, having bet quite a lot of credits on the beautiful female pilot. "Man, this arena is a waste of time if the organizers keep pulling everyone's punches. They don't have the guts to show us a real fight. I'd be better off watching a projection from the galactic net."

The pair split up again once Dietrich escorted Ves back to their cabin upstairs. As Ves wanted to save as much credits as possible, he declined to follow Dietrich outside as he perused the ship's extensive entertainment.

The Torch of the Vanguard slowly made its rounds as it hopped across borders. The distance it traversed within a short amount of time was incredible. That it took over two weeks to reach Leemar was a testament to the Torch's incredibly powerful engines. Luckily, the Leemar System happened to be situated a little closer to the Bright Republic, so Ves could board any standard passenger ship to reach Leemar in time for the qualifiers.

The ship's prestige and its escort of elite mechs from the Coalition deterred all troublemakers. Most of them took one look at the scanners and got scared off by the Torch's immense engine readings. Only the largest organizations from second-rate states possessed the knowhow to build such a powerful ship.

Ves made good use of the time by studying the virtual books as if he was a desperate student about to take his exams. He already learned much of the core knowledge from the System, but the books expanded upon the main concepts and provided him with a lot of good references.

At the end of the Torch's voyage to the Coalition's border, Ves firmly stabilized his foundations in mechanics. He now possessed sufficient confidence in designing a mech with mechanical principles beyond the reach of an average novice.

"Mechanics might not be as sexy as metallurgy or optics, but its the main pillar that underpins every mech."

Perhaps he might still be behind the best geniuses participating in the open competition, but he should be able to pass the qualifiers at the very least. He had taken a brief look at the rules and understood the days preceding the main competition was meant to filter out the riff raff.

"Too bad the hype around my mechs have faded."

His virtual sales tapered off. The Marc Antony and its 'Male Variant' proved to be surprisingly successful while they graced the news, but the novelty passed when the broadcasters focused on other events. Without the constant exposure in the media, the mech dropped into obscurity.

What further nailed the coffin into his sales was that a couple of other designers copied his codpiece. It proved to be a minor trend in the local market, but so many pilots repelled the myriad designs that the copycats never earned much of a profit.

Ves studied the figures and nodded in disappointment. "There's no future in driving sales through unique looks. Excessively decorated mechs don't fare well in the market right now. The current trend is to keep the mech's appearance sober in order to avoid attracting enemy fire."

It might be a different story if the mechs were rated lower. First and second-star mechs often featured brighter colors and more flamboyant touches. However, by the time pilots were able to buy five-star mechs, they were old enough to graduate from academies and pilot a mech on a real battlefield.

At the last day when Ves was about to depart the Torch, he decided to spend his accumulated DP. He already spent a lot of time sorting out his recent gains, so that left his mind free to accept an influx of new knowledge.

"Now what will I upgrade?"

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As Ves glanced at his Status, he almost got scared by the amount of DP he accrued. Just a short time ago he still got excited when he earned a couple of hundred DP, but right now his breath caught when he saw he earned more than 5000 DP just from his virtual sales.

"Damn, earning so much DP is a cheat. If even one of my design catches on, I'm set for life."

Naturally, Ves did not think the System was generous. The way it handed out DP told him that it encouraged Ves to develop one good design rather than a hundred forgettable designs. The DP earnings from sales should be his primary source of income. And though he could earn a lot of DP from simply getting one design right, the costs of more advanced Skills from the Skill Tree ramped up pretty fast.

He switched to his Skill Tree and stared down his Mechanics section. Upgrading his Mechanics skill from Journeyman to Senior demanded 100,000 DP. Even if he gathered so much DP, he also had to satisfy the additional prerequisite of raising three related sub-skills to Journeyman as well.

"It's not worth it to go down a single tree if I only have five-thousand DP to spend. I'm better off increasing my attributes or some of my other skills."

With this much DP, it became possible for him to buy a couple of candies from the Store in order to boost his intelligence. Still, just because it was possible didn't mean it was useful. If he wanted to compete against the geniuses who studied at Leemar, then he needed an immediate boost in skills and knowledge.

"I'll think about attributes later when the situation is not so urgent. First up, let's see what main skill I can upgrade."

Though he could afford to upgrade two main skills, he was apprehensive about overloading his brain. Every major category came with a wealth of knowledge that took weeks to settle in. If Ves bit off more than he could chew, he might end up mentally crippled for a time. The last thing he wanted was to knock himself out of the competition before it even began.

Thus, he started to scour the Skill Tree for a modest collection of sub-skills first. After taking a brief look at some of the newer and more exotic sub-skills, he turned down most of them in favor of upgrading his existing ones.

[Alloy Compression I: 1000 DP

[Speed Tuning III: 800 DP

[Mediumweight Armor Optimization III: 1200 DP

[Metallurgy - Journeyman: 2000 DP

The upgrades to Speed Tuning and Mediumweight Armor Optimization spoke for themselves. They increased the depth of his specializations and would help him make faster and better protected mechs.

As for Metallurgy, he decided that achieving Journeyman level in this field was essential if he wanted to compete in terms of armor. He still remembered the extraordinary toughness of some of mechs that participated in the Fusion Cup. A solid background in Metallurgy helped close the gap and enable him to purchase another sub-skill.

"So that's how they did it." Ves muttered when he finally added Alloy Compression to his shopping list.

Though not the only way to improve a piece of armor plating, it nonetheless provided remarkable results with comparatively little effort. The concept sounded simple. Certain alloys transformed when subjected to a large amount of even pressure. While most either ruptured or ended up as a piece of scrap, some alloys instead successfully compressed into a tougher plate.

"Too bad it requires a special machine in order to compress these special alloys." Ves sighed. Just buying the cheapest model set him back at least a couple of hundred-million bright credits.

Though still outside his budget, he could still apply the knowledge to any designs as long as he did not intend to produce it in his workshop. Not only was it usable at the upcoming competition, he could also apply it to any virtual designs where the game provided him with every possible fabrication machine he could ask. Thus, the extravagant purchase of 1000 DP for just the first rank of Alloy Compression still paid off.

As Ves intended to absorb a lot of knowledge at a time, he spaced them out. He first started with Speed Tuning III and Mediumweight Armor Optimization III. Both of these sub-skills at the third tier provided similar kinds of knowledge in that they were light on fundamentals but heavy on details.

While absorbing the data from Speed Tuning happened without problems, Ves could not say the same for Armor Optimization. His shallow background in Physics increased the difficulty of absorbing the advanced data. He got the feeling he received a large bunch of encrypted gibberish, and the only way to unlock them was to increase his proficiency in Physics.

"That's a thing for later when I have the DP to spare."

Having learned a lesson on the importance of main skills, he opted to absorb Metallurgy first.

"Urgh!"

The influx burdened his mind, but not as bad as the first time he upgraded a skill to Journeyman. Somehow, Ves found that his mind had expanded somewhat, as if his previous experience left a hollow that could be recycles over and over again.

With the help of this boon, Ves focused on absorbing everything about Metallurgy and its varied fields of knowledge. Journeyman-level Metallurgy mostly consisted of learning the properties and uses of the most commonly employed exotic minerals. It provided him with an extensive understanding in how to use and shape armor plating and gave him a primer on how others developed their own armor systems.

As for Alloy Compression, the sub-skill went into greater detail in how most armor systems improved their specs without getting too heavy. With the right mix of exotic materials, the compressed piece of armor was capable of withstanding much more damage for its weight and thickness. The trade-off for this procedure was that it took a lot of time to process the materials and that a lot of expensive exotics had to be used.

It turned out the original Caesar Augustus model employed compressed armor plating to achieve its lauded durability. National Aeromotives spent a lot of effort in developing their heat-resistant armor, so Ves was a long way in developing armor that performed anywhere near such a great product. At least he possessed enough of a foundation to handle a compression machine skillfully and reproduce any advanced piece of armor so long as he had the license.

[Status]

Name: Ves Larkinson

Profession: Novice Mech Designer

Specializations: None

Design Points: 74

Attributes

Strength: 0.7

Dexterity: 0.7

Endurance: 0.7

Intelligence: 1.2

Creativity: 1

Concentration: 1.7

Neural Aptitude: F

Skills

[Assembly: Apprentice - [3D Printer Proficiency II] [Assembler Proficiency II]

[Business: Apprentice

[Computer Science: Incompetent

[Electrical Engineering: Novice

[Mathematics: Incompetent

[Mechanics: Journeyman - [Jury Rigging II] [Speed Tuning III]

[Metallurgy: Journeyman - [Alloy Compression I]

[Metaphysics: Incompetent

[Physics: Novice - [Lightweight Armor Optimization I] [Mediumweight Armor Optimization III]

Evaluation: A novice about to spread his wings.

While he lost a lot of DP, his capabilities improved beyond the norm. Ves vaguely suspected that he had surpassed a regular mech designer who had just graduated from a second-rate institution. As for matching the skills of a genuine elite like Edwin McKinney, Ves still lacked the confidence for a rematch.

"Perhaps I've gotten within striking distance to Edwin, but that doesn't mean anything yet. He's bound to develop his skills as well. I can't imagine how far he's already reached."

Life went on. While Ves sorted out his overstuffed mind, the Torch of the Vanguard entered Coalition space. She finally reached the end of her journey.

The Friday Coalition's immense size meant it held multiple port systems. From the Bright Republic, any ship wishing to enter Coalition space first passed through the The Hostin System. As a strategically important location and a prime invasion point, the Coalition forces in charge of this area built it up as a fortress.

Countless mechs and fixed emplacements dotted the system even as the Torch of the Vanguard exited FTL at the edge. A patrol of spacefaring mechs arrived at the ship and called her to a halt. Despite the massive traffic coming to and from the Hostin System, the Coalition still possessed enough manpower to inspect each ship.

As a vessel registered in Coalition space, the inspectors went about their work with haste. Dietrich stood besides Ves as they both got checked out by the incoming personnel. Though Dietrich's status was a little dubious, the identity of a proven mech designer proved enough for Ves to vouch for his companion.

"Man, these Coalition guys sure take visitors seriously."

"I think the recent terrorist attacks have them spooked as well, even if they haven't suffered yet from any attacks."

All of the Coalition troops bore a distinct symbol underneath their Coalition sunflower logo. It looked like a set of five tapering blue triangles, like a fan consisting of five blades.

"We've entered the territory of the Konsu Clan. They're rather strict and uptight so don't pull anything funny."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I've seen enough Coalition broadcasts to know how pissed off they get when someone has their hair out of place."

That was an exaggeration, of course, but it demonstrated the Konsu Clan's values. As a rigid family Clan that never bent their principles, they clashed often against their rival Clans in the state they originated. Eventually they pissed off so many groups that they all banded together against the Konsu Clan, devastating their worlds and forcing their upper echelon to flee to the distant Komodo Star Sector.

One would think that the Konsu Clan loosened up after such a harrowing ordeal. Instead, they doubled down, coming across as even more stubborn and uptight. Only their might as the second most powerful military power of the Coalition kept them safe from outside pressure. No one wanted to provoke the dragon.

"Luckily, the Leemar System is part of the more liberal Carnegie Group." Ves said as the inspectors finished their work. They caught a couple of suspicious characters and escorted them out of the ship. "We only have to tough it out for a few days before we leave Konsu space."

The Torch finally reached her final stop at a massive spaceport orbiting one of the system's moons. No outsiders were allowed to approach the Konsu Clan's settled planets, so the station handled most of the traffic.

The insides of the station embodied the quiet arrogance of the Clan. Occasional trees and sculptures brought in some much-needed vitality in the otherwise sober white decor. After leaving the Torch, they transferred to a smaller and cheaper passenger transport.

There was no helping taking the cheaper option this time. Paying everything in cols ate up a large amount of their money. Ves and Dietrich could only afford to pay for the cheapest option which let Dietrich bring his mech along.

"I think with the recent trouble, this trip might not be very quiet. The Coalition is powerful, but that just means that there are more interests competing against each other."

Dietrich nodded seriously, his customary grin already gone from his face. "I know. I've prepared as best I can."

The Saint Hearst lacked the various luxuries offered by much larger vessels such as the Torch of the Vanguard. Instead, she focused on maximizing her internal space, trying to stuff as many passengers as possible in a single ship while still adhering to the Coalition's laws.

That meant their cabin was simply two bunks, a desk, some chairs and a tiny bathroom. While it sufficed for a simple trip to Leemar, the contrast between the royal treatment they received from their previous ship was too much.

While the Saint Hearst devoted only a small portion of her interior to shops and restaurants, Ves and Dietrich found that most of them were on the more affordable side. Ves bought a couple of fancier-looking clothes that allowed him to fit in a little better, while Dietrich happily tried out all the cheap drinks the Coalition offered.

The one good thing about the Saint Hearst was that she didn't lose out on speed. Her modern FTL drive possessed quite a reach and hopped over many light-years with each transition. As they entered deeper into the Konsu Clan's territory, they started to encounter more populated systems.

The Saint Hearst stumbled upon an invasion after a couple of days. Ves and Dietrich's luck in avoiding incidents failed spectacularly at the worst possible moment. A group daring enough to openly assault a system under the rule of the Konsu Clan could not be anything but a rival Coalition member.

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The worst outcome happened just as they finally reached Leemar. An unknown group of invaders brazenly attacked a border system owned by the powerful Konsu Clan. The Saint Hearst immediately locked down the ship and turned off all external communications, but plenty of passengers possessed different means.

"They're not going to attack us, are they?"

"I recognize the emblem! That's the Vermeer Group!"

"That's not a raid, that's a full invasion fleet! They even brought tanks and infantry to occupy captured territory!"

The news became grim when they realized the Saint Hearst got caught in a struggle between two full Coalition partners. The third-most powerful Vermeer Group committed to a full border invasion of the Twin Tigers System held by the second-most powerful Konsu Clan.

"Fuck, I always thought these things happened in dramas. Now that it's happening in real life, I feel really crappy." Dietrich spat as his face turned blue.

Through long-range scans everyone could see hundreds of regimented mechs moving in unison. Any casual mercenary group would get rolled over when facing such an unstoppable tide.

"The galaxy is never at peace. We've been too spoiled in the Bright Republic where skirmishes remain small. After all, there's nothing really valuable there worth fighting to the death."

That the Vermeer Group decided to invest so much effort into conquering a border system meant that this place had something of value. A couple of other passengers had the same idea, and one person who still had access to the galactic net found the reason.

"Spiral ore! The Twin Tigers System has a large deposit of Spiral ore!"

While that meant nothing to Dietrich, Ves looked up with widened eyes as he heard the news. His improved Metallurgy skills along with his extensive insight in the mech industry supplied him with the reason for the Vermeer Group's radical move.

"Spiral ore can be refined into a substance that is essential to fabricating high-density energy cells. Trace amounts of spiral ore can be found in most star systems, but it's not economical to harvest these tiny deposits. If the Konsu clan discovered a substantial deposit in the Twin Tigers System, then it has turned from a backwater in a major strategic asset."

A couple of passengers dug out even worse news. It turned out that the Vermeer Group already possessed two large deposits of spiral ore within their territory. They sought to conquer the Twin Tigers System in order to obtain a local monopoly on the valuable ore. If they succeeded in keeping all three sources of ore, then they were able to dictate the prices and make up for the losses they suffered in this invasion.

"Looks like the unrest outside has spread to the Coalition as well. These Coalition partners sure are ruthless enough to wage war on their own side."

In actuality, it was questionable whether the major partners that made up the Coalition were ever on the same side to begin with. They came together only to defend against the monolithic Hexadric Hegemony. Besides passing some common laws to ease trade and mutual defense, the different partners still held on to their unique cultures and individual pride.

As time passed, the Saint Hearst tightened their suppression in order to avoid panic. Crew members along with armed bots emerged from nowhere and guided the passengers back to their cabins.

A ship-wide announcement spoke once the last passengers returned to their places. "This is the captain speaking. As you may have found out, the Saint Hearst has entered the Twin Tigers System in the middle of a military conflict. While devastating to the population, our spaceline is not related to either factions involved in anyway. Neither sides have expressed any intentions of pursuing us as we announced our presence."

Just as Ves was about to sigh in relief, the captain spoke again.

"Do not misunderstand. We are not safe. Though we may be neutral, either the Konsu or the Vermeer can change their minds at any moment. If you are a person of means and have reason to believe you can convince them to leave us alone, then feel free to approach a crew member. Nonetheless, I don't expect them to spare any thoughts on us. What we may be facing is worse."

Dietrich looked grim as he analyzed a projection of the star system. "When the big boys fight, there's always little boys scurrying underneath."

"We have detected sporadic signs of unaffiliated parties. Though most of them are civilian vessels suffering under the same circumstances, there are a number of vessels that may not hold friendly intentions."

In other words, pirates. The captain prattled on about the importance of staying put and avoid any panic. Both Ves and Dietrich learned nothing new from the speech. Instead, they waited for a key phrase to emerge.

"...Furthermore, to any active mech pilots among you, we may request assistance from you, especially if you have brought along your mech. We are unsealing all mechs in our cargo bay at this moment."

Ves looked at Dietrich, who nodded and started to change from his casual wear into his pilot suit.

"Your Harrier won't keep up with the kind of mechs out there. Even the pirates are better equipped than the Mech Corps back home. Even in the same generation, there's differences in firepower and protection."

"I know, but I'm not one to run from a challenge. I've spent weeks doing nothing but drinking my time away. You hired me to protect you, so it's time for me to earn my pay."

In actuality, Ves did not agree to pay Dietrich anything. He tagged along on his own accord, but neither of the two were in the mood to bring that up. As Dietrich finished changing his clothes, he opened the front door of the cabin and spoke to a nearby crew member. The uniformed spacer nodded and let a spare bot guide Dietrich to the cargo bay at the lower decks.

In times like these, Ves hated he could not join the fight. Though he received basic training in firearms back when he studied mech design, that was only to prepare him as a reservist. Even if the government drafted him into the Mech Corps, all he could really do was repair and maintain mechs. Fighting the enemy at the frontlines was not what Ves ever had in mind.

To calm himself down, he grabbed an oblivious Lucky and changed to a vacuum suit before sitting down on a reinforced chair. Each cabin came supplied with basic sealed vacuum suits and reinforced chairs with sturdy straps in case of emergencies. Ves strapped himself in and made sure any sudden shocks from the ship did not dislodge his bindings.

"Don't move, Lucky. I don't want you to float around in case the artificial gravity shuts off."

Space combat among humans used to be bloody before the MTA stamped down their foot. Nowadays, spaceships weren't supposed to be armed, which cut down on the damage. These days, pirates employed space-capable mechs to secure the surroundings while using boarding troops to invade the interior of a ship. If the Saint Hearst wanted to survive the pirate raid intact, then it could not afford to lose either battles.

The minutes ticked past as Ves felt his skin grow clammy with sweat. The worst thing about the situation was that the crew did not intend to inform the passengers of any news. Dietrich might have already launched from the cargo bay. Could he manage to fight in the difficult environment of outer space? Was his mech sealed tight enough to avoid leaking the air supply?

No sound propagated from space. Any explosions or weapons fire would not affect the ship unless it happened extremely close. Though Ves vaguely sensed a couple of unusual vibrations, he could not guess their source.

Even with the might of the System, Ves still had nothing in his hands to defend against any aggression. He regretted ignoring the self-defense options in the Store and Skill Tree. If he invested some of the 5000 DP into personal defense, then he might not be sweating bullets right now.

The ship shook abruptly several times. The captain quickly made another announcement. "Alert! The pirates have managed to slip in a couple of boarding shuttles through our mechs. They are drilling through the hatches as we speak. DO NOT RESIST AND DO NOT LEAVE YOUR CABINS!"

Ves swore vigorously. This useless captain could have explained what was going on. Who were the pirates? Did they have a track record of wanting murder, or were they just here to rob the passengers of their wealth?

"Shit. I still have more than twenty-four million credits in savings. I can't afford to lose it all."

Still, what could he do? He did not delude himself into thinking he could slip out of his cabin and murder every intruder with his bare hands. He did not even possess a firearm!

He quickly activated the Mech Designer System and opened the Store.

[Basic Fruit Knife: 100 DP

[One-Shot Holdout Pistol: 500 DP

"What?! Five hundred fricking DP for a gun with a single bullet?!"

Ves wanted to tear his hair off. Forget about the pistol, he couldn't even afford to buy the most harmless knife from the store due to his shortage of DP. He made a major error in blowing all of his DP away at once.

"Well, lesson learned. Next time, I'll save some DP."

As Ves sat still holding onto his gem cat, he felt a couple of more vibrations. While he had trouble guessing the origin of those vibrations, they increased in magnitude and frequency. If he didn't know any better, they felt a lot like heavy footsteps. With the cabin's heavy sound insulation, he had no way of knowing any better.

Minutes passed as the frequency of vibrations decreased. Just as Ves relaxed his nerves, a breaching device broke the cabin door.

"HANDS IN THE AIR! DON'T MOVE!"

"I'm unarmed, I'm unarmed!" Ves yelled as he raised his arms. Lucky yowled in fright as soon as two menacing exoskeleton suits entered the tiny cabin. The haphazard depictions of weapons and scantily clad girls made it clear that these two men were not part of the ship's security contingent.

The two armored men practically took up half of the cabin's space. One of the pirates held a massive laser rifle over his shoulder while the second held a smoking laser pistol.

"YOU. WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

"V-V-Ves. Ves Larkinson."

The lead pirate paused for a moment. Ves guessed he was using his suit's internal HUD to look up his name from the passenger manifest.

"MECH DESIGNER. GOOD. YOUR ROOMMATE IS FIGHTING OUTSIDE. NOT SO GOOD. COME WITH US."

"Wait, wait, I can pay. I have credits!"

"WE'RE NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR WORTHLESS CREDITS. COME ALONG BEFORE YOUR FRIEND DOES SOMETHING REGRETTABLE."

The lead pirate revealed a knife and cut off the straps holding Ves in place. "STAND UP."

With one pirate looming over with a rifle and another pointing at him with a thick and deadly knife, Ves had no choice. He kept his hands in the air and slowly pushed off the chair.

"I don't want to get hurt. I'll do what you want. Just don't hurt me."

"RELAX, PAL. JUST LISTEN TO WHAT I SAY, AND YOU CAN-"

The pirate suddenly got cut off as a golden flash swiped over his neck. A soft swish fluttered in the air as everyone got startled. The flash turned out to be Lucky, who landed atop a dresser with glowing blue eyes. A pair of energy claws extended from his dainty claws. The drops of blood that still clung onto its surface sizzled as the heat evaporated the remaining liquid.

The front pirate gurgled for a few seconds before collapsing into a heap. His exoskeleton armor provided almost no resistance to Lucky's sudden strike.

"WHAT THE? FREDDY? FREDDY! YOU FUCKING CAT!"

The remaining pirate went berserk and pulled the trigger of his rifle. A white-hot beam emerged from its muzzle and vaporized Dietrich's bed before turning towards the top of the dresser.

"Lucky! Run!"

The gem cat's eyes sparkled even brighter before he disappeared in another flash. A fraction of a second later, Lucky landed in front of the broken cabin door as the second pirate suffered from an identical case of having half his neck slashed apart by a deceptively sharp claw. The floor boomed as the dead man collapsed onto his brother.

While Lucky deactivated his deadly claw and preened, Ves grew green as he stared at the expanding puddles of blood. His lunch suddenly escaped from his stomach. He barfed right into his transparent helmet cover. His airtight suit automatically detected the danger and subtracted the front plate. After emptying his stomach, he breathed deeply and stared at Lucky as if he was a ghost.

"Lucky, you… your claws. Since when did you…"

Ves suddenly recalled the mysterious box. Did its contents have anything to do with Lucky being able to manifest his energy claws?

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Ves had never seen so much blood in his entire life. It pooled into a couple of puddles as deep as the carnelian he installed on his first mech. The two bodies of the armored pirates laid still in an undignified heap, as pathetic as the manner in which they died.

"Meow." Lucky released as he retracted his claws and gently brushed his body against his owner's legs. It was as if the last minute simply didn't happen.

"Okay. Okay. So my pet is a killer assassin. Okay. That's too much crazy for me to process."

If Dietrich could see him now, he'd probably slap his back and tell him to man up. The pirates were out to get him and the only way he could stay free was to rob them of their lives.

Over many weeks of interaction with the confident pilot, some of it must have rubbed on Ves, because he recovered after only a couple of minutes. "I'm pathetic. This is life in the Age of Mechs. I design and produce massive machines of war goddammit. I already have a lot more blood on my hands."

After all, did he not sell a mech to Vincent Ricklin, who used it to massacre scores of innocent bystanders? It was not as if Ves ignored the consequences. The true impact of his actions were too distant, and he received some training in college to rationalize his actions.

Still, coming so close to a death caused by his circumstances made him feel extraordinarily queasy.

"I've got to snap out of it. The pirates must still be connected to each other. If I'm right, they must have noticed the deaths already."

Ves snapped back into action. If any other pirates came and saw him dazing around over the bodies of their comrades, they'd shoot him in a heartbeat. He quickly entered the bathroom and rinsed away his vomit. Then he returned to the main cabin and grabbed a fallen laser pistol.

"Tch. It's locked, but that won't stop me."

He went to the half-burned dresser and retrieved a small pack of mini tools from his luggage. As a mech designer, he always ensured he had access to a set of essential tools in case he wanted to tinker on something, or needed to conduct some emergency repairs. He did not stop to mess around with the laser pistol but instead left his cabin as quickly as possible.

"C'mon Lucky! We can't get caught by any pirate right now."

The cat dutifully followed Ves as they both ran down the corridors. Now that they left the soundproofed cabin, they heard clear footsteps, screams and weapon discharges. It turned out that some of the other passengers had also smuggled in some weapons. Unfortunately for them, anything they sneaked past the ship's sensors failed to scratch the paint of an advanced exoskeleton suit.

To be honest, even his pilfered pistol lacked sufficient punch, but he still brought it along. After running down the stairs and entering a random opened cabin, entered the bathroom and shut himself inside.

"Right. Pistol. C'mon and open for me." Ves whispered as he opened his miniature toolbox and started to fiddle with the laser pistol's control module. Though he had no background in infantry weapons, his familiarity with their mech-sized counterparts allowed him to identify almost every component underneath the weapon's casing.

"Alright, so this is the control module. Now how can I disable its identity check?"

Ves had no means of hacking its software. The modern weapon appeared to be an upscale luxury model, so it's safety features must be quite substantial. Still, as a compact weapon its manufacturer did not devote too many components into keeping the weapon locked.

After a couple of minutes of identifying what each component did, he retrieved a couple of tools and went to work with his utmost focus. His heightened concentration allowed him to shut off his fear and other external influences. His jury rigging skill allowed him to solve his problem with unconventional solutions.

His hands remained as steady as a machine as he delicately cut off some parts while forcibly welding other parts together. After finishing with the locking mechanism, he even started to mess around with the energy cell and capacitor.

"There. That should do it." He said as he packed up his tools and attached his set to his belt. He gingerly picked up the laser pistol and turned it on. The lights turned green as the weapon started to accumulate a charge. His hasty tinkering succeeded in unlocking the weapon.

After pressing a button, a projection came into view over the rear of the barrel. The simple figures displayed the pistol's charge and heat capacity. Currently, the pistol showed that it was ready to fire a charge of 200% in a single heavy beam. Such a charge went way above the weapon's maximum safety limits. Only his recent tinkering allowed the pistol to go beyond its limits.

"Well, I doubt the pistol will last an entire day, but at least I stand a better chance of penetrating heavy armor."

Such a weapon was exceedingly dangerous. If Ves did not aim carefully, the laser beam might burn through a bulkhead and damage the rooms ahead. If any passengers huddled nearby, Ves might actually kill someone innocent. He'd be in big trouble if he caused the deaths of anyone other than pirates.

"It's a risk I have to take. I can't sit still and let the pirates decide over my life."

He also wanted to keep Lucky safe. Though the cat mostly acted lazy, he felt a deep connection with what could be his only link to his missing father.

"Let's go hunt some pirates." He whispered to Lucky, and they both snuck out of the bathroom and peeked outside the corridor. "I don't want to take the fight to them, but I won't let myself be cornered either. We have to retake control of the ship."

He doubted the still-fighting crew members appreciated his involvement, but he did not trust them to have the interests of the passengers in mind. Though the laws obligated them to defend the passengers to the death, he occasionally came across some news articles where the captain and the crew were less than passionate when facing down the barrel of a gun.

A pair of heavy footsteps approached his hiding place. Ves guessed that they possessed sensors that were capable of detecting heat, so they could follow the traces of footsteps and his lingering body heat. From the lack of haste, they probably did not realize that Ves was one of the bastards who killed off a couple of pirates. That was good.

"YOU. IN THAT CABIN. GET OUT OF THERE."

Ves slowly rose and held onto his charged-up pistol. Since exoskeletons possessed all kinds of sensors, he did not bother to hide its substantial heat emissions.

"FUCKER! HE'S ARMED!"

The pirates still remained human. The pair of armored men focused all of their attention to his radiating pistol, ignoring the gem cat sneaking up from behind. As a mechanical pet, Lucky barely released any heat as long as he did not deploy his energy claws. By moving slowly and regularly, he was as inconspicuous as the ship's standard cleaning bots.

Just as they directed their aim at him through the bulkhead, Ves yelled out, "Lucky! Now!"

Like a silent killer, Lucky jumped in the air and landed atop the back of the rearmost pirate's neck armor. His claws sank deep inside the plating as if it didn't exist and shredded the vulnerable flesh underneath.

As one of the pirates gurgled and died, Ves poked out his body from the broken door frame and shot his pistol with haste. His aim drifted a bit to the left, causing him to hit the surviving pirate's shoulder instead of his center mass. Still, the overloaded laser beam managed to convey a lot of heat at a single spot which spoiled the pirate's aim. His rifle barked upwards well over its target's head.

"Damnit! Lucky, finish him off!" Ves swore as he jumped back inside the empty cabin. His pistol started to smoke and his confidence evaporated. He waited until the scream cut off before taking a peek again. His eyes gazed at another pair of bodies. This time he processed the act of killing without losing control over his stomach.

He managed to approach the rear of the Saint Hearst with remarkable haste after his latest killings. The boarding parties mainly concentrated their efforts in controlling a few critical compartments along with subduing the passengers. As most of the passengers still huddled inside their rooms, once Ves left the cabin area he encountered a lot less patrols.

"Huh. I thought so. If these pirates are still fighting with the mechs outside, then that means they can't risk sending out too many boarding shuttles. They sent just enough pirates to subdue the passengers and crew. If they lose a couple of men, then it's no big deal for them as long as they recover their gear."

Ves did not envy the life of a pirate grunt. Unless they could pilot mechs, they were treated as no better than a slightly smarter combat bot. At least one merit to the use of living bodies was that they could not be hacked.

"Just because the bigshots don't care about their lives doesn't mean they will obediently roll over."

Ves had very little means in repelling the hundred-odd or so pirates aboard the Saint Hearst. The cheap passenger liner's security contingent obviously lacked exoskeleton armor as the dead crew members that Ves encountered sported nothing heavier than lightly armored suits.

He approached the engineering compartment which hosted the ship's engines and the power reactor. A lot more pirates milled just outside the heavily armored hatch. They installed a portable laser driller that was in the process of dismantling the blockade.

Once the pirates had access to engineering, the game was up. The pirate engineers could do a lot of things, from cutting off the connection to the bridge to redirecting the Saint Hearst's course. As a last resort, they could also threaten the entire ship by blowing up its vulnerable reactor.

"Lucky. Can you sneak closer and count how many pirates are there?"

The cat bobbed his cute head and snuck around the corner. A minute passed before he returned. The cat softly scratched a bulkhead with single claw.

"Twenty-four pirates. Are they all inside an exoskeleton?"

"Okay, so they only have two lightly armored engineers. Right. I know what to do now."

He instructed Lucky briefly, then got ready to take action. He kept a healthy distance from the pirates in order to avoid tripping their sensors. He approached a hatch and used his tools to fiddle with its control mechanisms. After finishing his work, he packed up his tools and readied his pistol. The long wait caused him to drip in sweat again. He was about to do something very foolhardy.

"ENGINEER DOWN! PROTECT THE OTHER ONE! SHOOT DOWN THAT BOT!"

The two pirate squads rose into action as Lucky went to town. While Lucky bounced around and spoiled the aim of the pirates by hiding behind their comrades, Ves quickly crept around the corner and aimed his smoking pistol at the drill.

The beam melted the laser drill into a pile of slag. He immediately jumped back, but a pair of pirates who ignored the commotion and kept their eyes peeled in his direction shot their own weapons in response.

A laser almost hit him before Ves rounded the corner. The bulkhead blocked out the beam long enough for Ves to get away.

The other pirate adjusted his light cannon's aim. Its massive size could only be carried by a powered suit of armor. The pirate pulled the trigger, causing an shell to accelerate towards the intersection where Ves briefly fired his weapon.

Though Ves managed to take a few steps back, the shell exploded into a nova of force. The shockwave pushed him off his feet while a small fragment clipped the side of his torso.

"Argh!"

His vacuum suit automatically sealed up the gap and stemmed the flow of blood as best it could. The suit injected him with a small dose of painkillers in order to suppress his agony.

"Damn it, I got hit. Lucky! Get out of there!"

Ves hobbled away as some of the angry pirates thundered after him. He quickly jumped past the closest hatch and waited.

"THE BOT IS RUNNING AWAY!"

He did not have to wait for long until ran past. Now that Lucky succeeded in getting away, Ves slammed his palm onto the hatch's control console. A heavy slab of metal fell down, shutting him momentarily from the enraged pirates.

"Don't fuck with a mech designer." Ves impulsively spat at the closed hatch as a small group of pirates pounded its surface from the other side. He raised his middle finger and saluted the frustrated gang of criminals.

"C'mon, let's get out of here. They'll be on guard against us now."

With his trusty cat in tow, he smartly made himself scarce. While Lucky possessed unimaginable capabilities, Ves did not want to risk his life against two entire squads of heavily armed pirates. Killing the engineers and disabling the drill was the best he could do for the ship. Hopefully he bought enough time.

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For the next hour, Ves did nothing but hide. He went all the way up the decks and hid himself in the most useless compartment of the ship, the observatory. As distant flashes of light exploded in the darkness of space, Ves remained still as he laid under a couch, holding Lucky in his arms.

"I'm not an expert on pirate raids, but if the drama's I've seen are somewhat accurate, then they should not take the fight to the death."

The pirate business ran on the same principles as any other company. They invested in mechs and pirates to conduct raids on ships and planets. They stayed around long enough to pick off all of the low-hanging fruit before getting away once enemy reinforcements arrived.

As the MTA enforced a universal law among humanity to band together and render aid in emergencies, the pirates had a time limit. The clock ticked as the other civilian ships caught in the invasion banded together and grouped up their escorts in a formidable force. They'd slowly sweep forward and pick up any isolated ships, adding to their threat as they neared the distressed ships like the Saint Hearst.

"As long as the pirates can't take control of the Saint Hearst, the crisis will end."

After all, losing those expensive suits of exoskeleton armor along with the mechs hurt their bottom line. The Saint Hearst was just a run-of-the-mill passenger liner. The kind of passengers she carried were not the wealthiest sort of people. The pirates only quickly grabbed the most affluent among them, leaving the rest behind. It wasn't worth their time to shake down a passenger with only tens of thousands of cols in savings.

An hour quietly passed as the vibrations downstairs disappeared. The fighting had stopped. Ves did not dare poke his head out or let Lucky scout ahead.

"Meow…" Lucky mewled, his eyes looking dimmer than before.

"Those energy claws took a lot out of you, right?"

"Meow!"

"Don't worry buddy, you did good. I'll be sure to buy an energy cell to top you up again."

"Meow-meow!"

"Ah, so you also want to munch on some minerals? Alright, I'll be on the lookout for something rare once we reach the Leemar System."

A large series of faint vibrations followed. If Ves guessed correctly, the pirates gave up on taking control of the ship. The invaders instead retreated back to their boarding shuttles and lifted off from the ship.

The intercom sparked to life as the local jamming receded. The useless captain spoke again. "Attention passengers, the pirates have retreated from the Saint Hearst but we cannot guarantee your safety yet. Stay where you are and do not move while my men sweep the decks."

Another couple of minutes passed before the entrance of the observatory opened. A trio of lightly-armored crew members took a peek inside. Ves held up his hands. "I'm a passenger! I'm injured!"

As soon as the crew secured the observatory, a female spacer approached his side. "Where's your injury?"

"My vacuum suit sealed the wound. I got cut by some shrapnel from an explosive shell. I'm still running on painkillers."

The woman looked at the smouldering pistol by his side and narrowed his eyes. "Please confirm your identity."

"Hey, I'm not a pirate. I stole it off the pirate I killed."

The crew took precautions nonetheless. They secured his arms with bindings and put Lucky in a reinforced cage. Some spare crew members in charge of processing the wounded and captives transferred him to a secure part of the medical bay. There he received more extensive treatment for his wounds from a medibot while he waited to be checked out.

"Heya Ves! Looks like you've popped your first cherry!" Dietrich celebrated as he entered the medbay along with an officer. "I didn't think you had it in you to slaughter a couple of those pirates."

"Mr. Larkinson, we have investigated your circumstances. Though it is unfortunate that the pirates have scrambled all of our surveillance equipment, from what we have gathered so far, you have been indispensable in repelling the pirates."

"Thank the heavens. Can you get me out of these bindings? I'd like my cat returned as well."

The officer coughed awkwardly. "We can release you from custody, but we cannot let your mechanical pet run loose. Do not worry, he is safely stowed in our restricted storage compartment. You can visit him at your leisure."

It figured that the crew worked out that his pet did most of the killing. Ves did not even hide his tracks, which was a mistake. He turned to Dietrich as the bindings fell off. He rubbed his wrists and left the medical bay along with his guard.

"Can you tell me what happened outside? I sure missed your presence, you know."

Dietrich grimaced a bit as he recalled the fight out in space. "I got my ass kicked pretty much. Those pirate mechs are tough as nails and they came kitted out for space combat. While my mech can still maneuver in space with its flight system, I did not train a lot in zero-g combat."

"You're alive at least. That's what matters. What's the damage?"

"Well, I managed to stay functional long enough to annoy the pirates. They had to redirect at least one of their mechs on pinning me down. That crazy bastard kept shooting lasers at my sweet Harrier. Her chassis has a lot of melted holes and I lost an entire leg."

Ves imagined the cost of repairing all of that damage. Most of the armor must be damaged beyond redemption, which was not good news since it was often the most expensive component to replace.

"Ah, I know what you're thinking, but the spaceline is not completely heartless. They promised commendations for the both of us for stepping up against the pirates instead of cowering under a bed or something. I should be receiving a voucher that entitles me to a free repair job for my mech at any Coalition-affiliated base."

"That's good news." Ves said, surprised the Friday Coalition spared them the cols. Their status as foreigners did not entitle them to many rights.

All-in-all, the impromptu convoy of ships departed from the edge of the Twin Tigers System in a large group. Only by sticking together could they insure their safety against any opportunistic attacks.

The Saint Hearst together with a dozen other civilian ships transited into FTL towards the same destination. Despite the pirate raid, it was still important for them to arrive at their destination in time. Some sensitive cargo had to be delivered on time in order to avoid any penalties.

The Saint Hearst kept travelling towards Leemar in order to conduct a thorough inspection and repair. They carried away most of the wounded and the captives at an earlier stop and picked up other passengers who weren't willing to book another flight. Thus, two days later, the Saint Hearst finally arrived at the Leemar System, one day late.

The mighty Leemar System belonged to the wealthy Carnegie Group. Though they failed to excel in terms of martial might, they built strong relationships with elite mercenary corps who took on much of the burden of defending their territories. Over time, Carnegie Group diverted from the Coalition's trend of looking down from their ivory towers and started to open their borders further to attract talented outsiders.

The Group developed the highly defensible Leemar System as their intellectual heart. The Leemar Institute of Technology together with fourteen other educational institutions bought vast tracts of lands on one of the three habitable planets in the star system and made themselves home.

As a system that nurtured the future elites of the Coalition, the Carnegie Group treated its security strictly. Eight major starbases secured the edge of the star system. Any ship that flew into the interior without being cleared would encounter immediate retaliation from pursuing ships and hidden weapon emplacements.

When the stern-faced security officers boarded the Saint Hearst, they interviewed a couple of people involved in the pirate attack. Ves was naturally one of their persons of interest.

"So tell me, how did you come to possess a mechanical pet of such prowess?"

"It's a present from my dad, I think. He probably thought I could use some insurance in case trouble finds me." Ves told the truth, knowing that the security personnel possessed all kinds of means to sniff out lies. "If it's not from my dad, then it's definitely from the Future Sons Technology Institution that granted me a couple of old production licenses."

The security officer ran down the institution's name. He paused when he found out the institution had its roots in the dreaded New Rubarth Empire. His questioning eased off, and after a perfunctory interview they gave back Lucky without another word.

"So that's the convenience of a powerful background." Ves whispered to himself as he appeared a little dumbfounded how easily he got out of trouble. Not that he was worried about getting arrested, but the delays could have prevented him from participating in the qualifiers. Too bad the nebulous FSTI was just an empty shell conveniently brought into being by the System.

Fortunately, the caretakers in charge of sensitive cargo recharged Lucky's energy, so the cat returned to being his lively and curious self. The cat meowed in relief at being reunited with his owner.

"Alright, let's meet up with Dietrich and prepare to disembark."

Fortunately, the inspections finished quickly, and the ship received permission to enter the inner system. She slowly headed towards Leemar-3, the furthest most habitable planet. After delivering its passengers to the planet's space station, the Saint Hearst travelled onwards towards Leemar-2. When the banged-up vessel finally docked with the planet's orbital space station, Ves left the ship along with Dietrich and his damaged mech.

"Alright, we can contract one of the many mech workshops at the surface to repair your Harrier." Ves said as they both approached the shuttle terminal where different vehicles constantly flew to the surface of the planet and back.

"Hmm. I'm eager to see how these second-rate poncies will fix up my baby. I feel naked when she's sitting uselessly in a container."

Both of them bonded over the incident and grew a little more closer. At least Dietrich did not treat Ves like he was a wimp anyone.

The baptism of combat also subtly changed the mech designer's attitude. For the first time, he felt as if his Larkinson blood came alive. He came from a line of distinguished warriors and though he did not inherit his father's potential to pilot mechs, he still possessed some teeth on his own. Thinking about how proud his father must be for fighting back against a pirate raid helped process the potential trauma of his first stint of combat.

Thus, Ves boarded a shuttle along with Dietrich and travelled to Leemar-2 with renewed confidence. He had taken on pirates and survived. The elite, pampered mech designers who he was about to compete against did not look so formidable anymore.

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Leemar-2 hosted four different educational institutions, all of whom occupied one of the four major continents of the planet. The Leemar Institute of Technology, or LIT, took up the eastern archipelago dotted with thousands of islands of varying size. Its renowned faculties occupied the major islands, with the Mech Development Faculty taking up the crown jewel at the center.

After riding an ordinary shuttle to the eastern archipelago's spaceport, Ves and Dietrich looked around with wide eyes. The amount of wealth and technology on display staggered the two natives from the Bright Republic. They had never come face to face with this level of extravagance.

First of all, almost half of the people in the spaceport flew in the air. Their feet never touched the ground as tiny anti gravity modules embedded in their clothes lifted them up and brought them to their destinations with just a moment's thoughts. If Ves didn't know any better, he'd mistake them for celestial fairies.

The people weren't the only ones who hovered above the ground. The immense spaceport featured an open design many floating plans and buildings, many of which offered expensive services reminiscent of those offered by the Torch of the Vanguard. Only with an abundant pocketbook could someone enjoy the plentiful services of these exclusive stores and clubs.

However, not everyone was capable of flying. Those with less extravagant clothing merely walked around with their own two foot, limiting themselves to the cheaper stores at the ground floor. Only a few workers using anti-gravity platforms or small vehicles could hope to reach the floating structures.

"Man, it doesn't look very special in the drama's, but seeing it with your own eyes is something else." Dietrich whistled as he envied those wealthy second-rate citizens floating in the air. "What's the price of a set of antigrav clothes?"

Ves opened his comm and searched the galactic net. "The cheapest set is around ten thousand cols, or about one million bright credits."

And that only referred to a single outfit. A well-off citizen of the Friday Coalition owned dozens of outfits at the very least. Only the immense wealth of the state ensured that most of its citizens possessed the luxury to squander so much money on high-tech clothing. As expensive products, the clothes also offered other systems such as temperature regulation and vacuum sealing.

"I can't afford an outfit, but what about you Ves?"

He shook his head. "I'm not going to play this game. If I buy one outfit, I can't keep wearing it each day, or I'll become a laughing stock. It's better to stick to our third-rate identities and keep our expenses minimal."

Dietrich looked uncomfortable as a pair of elite Coalition citizens passed them by from above their heads. "They're already thumbing their noses at us like we're a pair of blood-sucking leeches. We're just another bunch of economic refugees them like the rest of the walkers here."

That was how the people of the Coalition called the people who left their homes from their third-rate states. The so-called 'walkers' could never in a thousand years afford a set of antigrav clothes. They were consigned to a life of walking with their feet and buying from the cheapest stores.

"If I have to make a choice between money or dignity, I'll choose the former every time." Ves declared. After all, he already sullied his career by selling a mech with a codpiece, so how much lower could he go? "I'm certain it won't matter much when it comes to catching the eye of a master. They shouldn't care too much about a mech designer's background, or else they won't call it an open competition."

Ves had studied the patterns from the previous times the LIT conducted the open competition. While the masters presiding over the events mostly took in mech designers who came from elsewhere in the Coalition, they sometimes shocked the crowd by taking in a pupil from a third-rate state.

"Still, it happens rare enough that having a good background can improve my chances." He murmured to himself. While the masters were beyond ordinary considerations of wealth and power, it did not mean they ignored it entirely. Often times, taking in a disciple offered them a good opportunity to negotiate a partnership or long-term business deal.

As a pair of walkers, Ves and Dietrich were forced to follow the crowd and go through many stringent checkpoints. The LIT not only hosted a number of eminent masters, they employed a great number of professors and researchers. They also taught the Coalition's present and future elites. With such a high concentration of human capital, the spaceport's security personnel investigated each arrival thoroughly.

A stern-faced security officer shook her head as she studied her data pad in front of Ves. "Since your mechanical pet is classified as a Class-2 autonomous combat bot, we can't allow it to enter the LIT without restrictions. If you are not willing to accept our restrictions, then you can let it stay behind in our pet storage."

"What will it take to bring my pet along?"

"We will have to muzzle your pet for the duration of your stay." The female officer opened a box and retrieved a sophisticated collar. "This restrictor can immobilize any Class-2 mechanical pet of a certain size. It won't do anything but track your pet, but it will activate a security screen the moment your pet activates any lethal weapons."

The restrictor might not be pleasant to Lucky, but Ves was hardly in a condition to argue otherwise. He calmly stood by as the officer secured the collar around Lucky's neck. The cat looked sullen and betrayed, as if he couldn't believe Ves would roll over so quickly.

"Alright Mr Larkinson, everything else is in order. Your partner is already waiting for you outside."

As a potentate and and active mech pilot, Dietrich enjoyed a greater level of service, even if he came from a third-rate state. He leisurely sat at an outdoor cafe, sipping on some beer. He gulped down the rest of his drink when he spotted Ves.

"What's the plan, boss?"

Ves mentally checked his internal schedule. "We're late by a day. I hoped we could have time to explore Leemar but we only have half a day left before the qualifiers start. That will take three days, while the main event takes two more days. As it is, we should find some lodging first."

As outsiders, the pair only had access to a small area on the outskirts of the territory claimed by the LIT. The outer area mostly serviced visitors such as himself, though even this region differentiated between walkers and proper citizens.

The differentiation between rich and poor was starker than Ves thought. He witnessed an obvious immigrant using a floating platform to enter one of the massive floating hotels. The flying machine malfunctioned as soon as it neared the hotel, causing the man who stood on it to scream and fall.

The device rebooted after a couple of seconds, but it wasn't capable of arresting the drop entirely. It crashed in a heap along with the man boarding it falling right after. He let out an excruciating wail as his legs snapped like twigs.

The reactions of the people around the poor sod interested Ves. The walkers shook their heads and continued their journey without pause. As for the citizens, some smirked and clapped as if enjoying a show, while others behaved as if they stepped on a turd.

Luckily for the man, the Coalition wasn't entirely heartless. A couple of medical bots floated towards him and lifted him into a stretcher that brought him to a local medical facility for further treatment. As for how he will pay for it, well that came later.

"This has nothing to do with us." Ves said to Dietrich, who looked pissed at some of the callous reactions around them. "While we are citizens of the Republic, we're on foreign soil now. We have to play by the rules set by the Friday Coalition."

They spent some time visiting the most decent-looking accommodations. Unfortunately, the open competition drew in thousands of mech designers, some of whom came with relatives or a retinue of followers. Most of the hotels in the area had no vacancies. As for the ones that did, they charged a ridiculous amount of cols for a single night.

"What?! Fifty-thousand cols? That goes beyond robbery! That's like digging my grandfather's grave to steal all his jewels!" Dietrich yelled as he slammed his fist on the counter.

"My apologies, sir, but our offer still stands." The bot standing on the other side of the counter responded.

"This bot isn't programmed to offer any deals." Ves said as he pulled his incensed guard away. The hotel looked fairly run-down and ill-maintained. Its garden was overgrown with weeds and unsavory insects. To charge more than a thousand cols for a night was already excessive, let alone fifty-thousand, but what else could they do? They arrived far too late and all the best hotels were booked.

"Let's ask the locals." Ves said as he looked back and made sure their floating luggage carriers were still there. "Maybe they have a suggestion that isn't mentioned in the galactic net."

Too bad the crowd barely spared a glance at them. Their clothing, accents and behavior all marked them as recent arrivals of no importance. No one wasted their time trying to help other immigrants. As for those who did spare the time, they provided no answers other than to pay the exorbitant fee.

"What did you expect? Fifty thousand clueless mech designers take part in the competition each year. Of course the prices are through the roof!"

Though Ves knew that a lot of mech designers came to Leemar to pursue their dreams, he did not expect the LIT to be so ill-prepared for the influx of visitors.

"They don't care. Those with means can pay any amount of cols. As for the rest, they have to fend for themselves." Ves figured out.

The Leemar Institute of Technology attracted countless hopefuls each year. They only wanted to take in the best. They could have built much more accomodation with the amount of land they possessed, but they left most of it in their virgin state, as if they disdained to coddle poor bums like Ves.

"We shouldn't be the only group who's late and doesn't want to pay the stupid hotel fees." Dietrich remarked as he looked around. "There's no homeless people hanging around. They should have found a place to stay."

He asked around and finally received a clue.

"Check the southern docks." A half-drunk walker said as he sipped a bottle of beer Dietrich bought at a small store. "There's boats there. Not those fancy shuttles, but real boats that float on water and stuff. You can find a place to sleep over there."

Intrigued, the both of them walked through the streets and passed more and more decrepit structures until they finally reached a massive docked filled with rusted boats.

Ves looked shocked when he saw these rickety floating castles. Most of them were built out of scrap mech components! The better-looking boats were made out of smooth plates of armor, while the less well-off boats used whatever they had on hand, such as limbs or even pieces of the internal frame. It made for an eclectic sight.

"Oy! Over here! We have vacancies on our boat! It's very cheap, only five thousand cols per person! Breakfast included!"

The crier who called out to the pair sat on a chair made out of a mech's finger bent into a peculiar shape. He sat in front of one of the more haphazard looking boats, but by now both Ves and Dietrich just wanted to get past this ordeal without losing too much money. They curiously approached the young man whose smile grew wider and wider at the prospect of guests.

"Greetings gentlemen to the Belladonna, my pride and joy in this beautiful archipelago! My name is Klaus Blayne. May I ask if the two you are together?" The skinny man asked.

"We are." Ves answered as he curiously looked at the misshapen boat. How could it even stay afloat?

"For a single room with a double bunk, that will be ten thousand cols, please."

While Dietrich transferred the credits through his comm, Ves scrunched his face and tried to fathom why a wealthy institution such as the LIT even tolerated these floating scrap wrecks.

As he noticed the bafflement of his guests, Klaus smiled ruefully. "Ah, you are new here, right?"

"That's right. I can't help but wondering, but… why the boats?"

"That's how the Leemar Institute of Technology works. External students like us don't get to stay in a fancy floating hotel. Nope. The LIT wants us to work for it. Unless we can afford our own antigrav clothing, we aren't allowed to stay in any accommodation on land. We have to build our own floating homes."

This rule sounded cruel and contrived, as if its sole purpose was to demean immigrants from third-rate states.

However, what else could these students do? They put all their hopes on studying at Leemar, and if they managed to pass its stringent entry requirements, they already had a foot in the door. To turn back without attempting to fight was to disgrace their spirit and the people supporting them. That was why students such as Klaus persisted in building their own rusting floating dorms.

Ves had an unpleasant premonition that the open competition might not be so open after all. If the LIT treated some of its students this way, then how will it treat outside mech designers without backing like him?

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For a few hundred cols, Klaus allowed Ves to ask him questions about his life on Leemar. While Dietrich boarded the ship and stared at the horizon while sipping a beer, Ves found a random piece of scrap and sat down next to the owner of the boat.

"First off, what's up with the boat?"

Klaus shrugged. "As I said, the students have to build their own accommodation that either floats in the water or flies in the sky. The catch is that we have to salvage or fund the process from our earnings in Leemar. The LIT practically runs on an internal credit system that everyone calls leems. Without leems, I can't purchase components off the internal market or buy access to the scrap yards where I can salvage broken parts."

It turned out the transaction they just made already got logged by the sophisticated AIs that ran and enforced the internal credit system. The ten thousand cols Klaus received automatically got converted into ten thousand leems under his student account.

"I see." Ves nodded. "So the rich guys can't simply buy everything available by using their parents' pocket books?"

"Hah! You wish. Antigrav clothing is an exception. There's exclusive classes and facilities available only to fliers. A walker like me can dream about getting access. Even if I scrape enough leems to buy a suit, I can't afford the fees those places charge anyway. Trust me, the moneybag students have lots of ways of earning easy leems."

That sounded remarkably ineffective to Ves. Back on Rittersberg, as long as Ves paid his tuition, he had nothing to worry about, so he put his full efforts into his studies.

"I know what you're thinking about. You think I'm so busy crawling on the ground picking up scrabbling for tiny amounts of leems every day, when I could have gotten an easy time back in the Terach Republic."

"Eh, busted."

Klaus smirked and gestured to his ramshackle ship. "I built this boat with my own two hands. While I might be grovelling and scraping for leems, I still have my own pride. Despite the intense competition, I'm still able to stay afloat. Do you know that seventy percent of first year students drop out within the semester? It's a brutal life out here in the archipelago, but those who can tough it out get more than just a diploma."

As Ves stared at Klaus, he recognized the peculiar fighting spirit in his eyes. The LIT evidently fostered a peculiar mentality. "I guess the diploma helps open a lot of doors as well. I envy you and your chance to study exotic subjects that I haven't been able to touch back at home."

"That's right. This is Leemar, one of the centers of mech development in the star sector. You can't find many other places in the local sector that can match the sheer amount of RD this place pumps out every day."

Too bad Klaus declined to go into deeper detail on the things he learned. Evidently, the LIT strictly punished any students who blabbed about the things they learned to outsiders.

"So do you have any tips for the open competition tomorrow?"

"Heh, good luck with that." Klaus smirked. "You can't imagine how many people are competing. I don't even think the masters are serious in watching out for a promising disciple. How else can you explain that out of fifty thousand hopeful mech designers, the masters only apprentice an average of three or four out of them all?"

"You think they have ulterior motives?"

"Sure I do! I'm guessing that they want to gauge the overall state of young mech designers from the Komodo Star Sector over time. They record everything you do and put it all in a database for further study. I even accessed a part of that database for a research assignment. You can't imagine how much bullshit they put into paper. I bet they even know how many nose hairs you have."

Both of them shuddered a little. Though it sounded outlandish, they could not rule it out for an initiative that tried to record as much as possible.

"So what can I do to increase my chances to get into one of the five?" Ves asked, not even considering the overwhelming chance of missing out. He was not the Ves of the past who only possessed a few mediocre skills.

"I don't know, really. If you ask me, try to emphasize your design philosophy and catch the eye of a master who matches it. You're going to hear a ton of speeches about design philosophy tomorrow, so I won't be explaining it. Just keep your ears open and work hard."

"So if you don't have a strong design philosophy, you don't stand a chance?"

"Yup." Klaus shook his head. "A lot of students have figured out that the masters only want to adopt a nominal disciple if they pick someone from the crowd. They don't want to go through the effort of holding your hand and shaping your design philosophy when you're already rather old for an apprentice. They'd rather save their energies for their own descendants or promising geniuses at the start of their mech design studies."

That made sense. A master could shape a young mech design student's mentality in any direction by tailoring his teachings. As for those who already graduated, they were more set in their ways.

"That said, don't underestimate the worth of a nominal disciple. You get access to exclusive books and guidance that you can't get anywhere else. You may not get any personal guidance from the master, but you will at least get access to a small part of their internal knowledge base. That's cutting edge research into subjects that you can only dream about."

To a normal young mech designer, that may sound like a dream. To Ves, that held little attraction to him. How could the power of the System compare against a single master?

After finishing their discussion on life as a student at the LIT, Ves and Dietrich went to bed. The boat only had a few cramped cabins that looked more like closets than an actual bedroom. After an uncomfortable night of sleep, they freshened up with a cheap sonic shower and got ready to go to the parade grounds where the opening ceremony was held.

"Good luck at the competition, Ves." Klaus clapped his back as Ves exited the boat. "It's going to be hell out there, so keep persevering. Without willpower, you won't be able to make it to the finals."

"What about our skills and knowledge?"

"Quick learners are a dime in a dozen. If the Leemar Institute of Technology only wants to stuff as much learning into our heads as possible, they won't kick out so many students each year. The galaxy is tough, so you have to fight for what you want."

It was a profound view that Leemar could afford to hold due to its immense popularity. Ves nodded his head and left to find transportation.

Luckily, unlike the students, visitors such as Ves and Dietrich were allowed to board a large passenger shuttle that brought them straight to the parade grounds. Ves stared out the window and spotted plenty of boats below. Most flew elegantly in the air, but around a quarter of them floated listlessly in the water.

"I won't be able to stay by your side when the competition starts." Dietrich said as he munched on an apple. "Don't worry though, I'll be cheering for you at the stands."

"You've already helped a lot when the Saint Hearst got attacked. From what I've heard, your presence was essential in preventing the pirates from pressing the guard mechs too hard."

"Yeah, but I got beat up pretty bad. These pirates only conducted an opportunistic raid. If they fought to the death, I'm sure the only way I can get away is by ejecting my cockpit."

Ves felt depressed when he heard Dietrich's words. He lost a bit of confidence after the battle. Comparing yourself to the standards of a second-rate citizen was poisonous.

"Well, don't drink your sorrows away. I still need you on your feet for the return trip."

"I know, I know. I'm more worried about my mech, frankly. I hope the local technicians don't skimp on the repairs just because I get it for free."

As they neared the venue, Ves spotted a lot more shuttles arriving from different directions. Most of them looked as average and utilitarian as the one he rode. A few looked smaller and fancier, evident of that passenger's wealth. Some appeared completely unique and outlandish. One shuttle even mimicked a dragon with wings and all.

The thing that impressed him the most were the shuttles dropping straight down from orbit. Evidently, not all of the arrivals were forced to wait at the outskirts first. These privileged sons and daughters comfortably slept in their ships until the day the competition started, where they could leisurely board their private shuttles and descent straight toward the parade grounds without going through security.

As soon as they finally reached the massive landing areas, the pair disembarked along with the other passengers. They noticed a young woman wearing a peculiar uniform gesturing at them to leave the shuttle area. She wore a royal purple uniform adorned with a couple of strange symbols and a dark blue sash.

"Hey! Welcome to the Leemar Institute of Technology. I'm Amy Dubois, second-year student at the Mech Development Faculty. It's great to see you all here! Now if you can follow me, I'll get you to the parade grounds where the whole show will start!"

The student acted so young and chipper that the visitors hardly believed she was a mech design student. As Amy acted very differently from Klaus, Ves figured that she was one of those rich kids who received plenty of privileges. If she wasn't guiding a group of lower-class arrivals, she'd probably be flying above their heads like some of the other guides and visitors.

Once they left the outskirts where all the shuttles parked, they approached a final checkpoint where exoskeleton-suited guards checked each passenger thoroughly. Fortunately, Lucky was still allowed inside as long as he kept wearing his collar. Ves already passed the cat to Dietrich, who held it as if he had never carried a pet before.

"Lucky is pretty smart, so you don't have to worry about anything. He knows he can't stick by my side during the competition."

"Right, but if he pisses on me, I'll throw him off the stands."

The security around the parade grounds was omnipresent. Ves already spotted hundreds of exoskeleton suits patrolling the grounds. What impressed him the most was that they didn't use any bots at all. It made sense as any bot could be hacked or tampered with. It still ramped up the costs.

As a mecca of mechs, the security forces also employed mechs. With his knowledgeable eyes, Ves recognized most of them as advanced currentgen mechs. These were the top-of-the-line frontline models that did not lose out to the Carnegie Group's main Mech Corps. What impressed him the most was that the officer mechs actually looked like nextgen models. No two nextgen mech looked alike.

"Those must be the personal works of the masters!" A designer from their crowd uttered, causing everyone to admire their exquisite engineering.

After passing one final security checkpoint, they walked through a security screen of some sorts that also blocked their view. Once they reached the other side, everyone held their breaths and looked up.

A massive statue as tall as a capital ship stood defiantly as it raised its weapons to the sky.

"I-I-Is that a juggernaut?!"

"Isn't that illegal?"

"It looks melted. I don't think it's functional anymore."

Amy clapped her hands to attract the group's attention. "That's right! Our big old Colossus here is a juggernaut that survived a proximity nuclear explosion. I can already tell you that the side who launched the bomb got mercilessly wiped out by the MTA, but not before this big hunk got slagged. The Rubarthans decontaminated the wreck and pieced it back together as best they could. For some reason or another, they paraded it around for a few decades before selling it to us once they got bored of it. Interesting story, right?"

As the group resumed walking, each of them stopping talking and thought about the statue represented. For all of them, this was the first time they came across one of the pinnacle creations in the field of mech design. It made some visitors feel small, while challenging others to work hard to design something similar one day.

As for Ves, his thoughts remained on the nuke. "There's always something greater than mechs out there. Mechs are not the pinnacle of warfare. Not yet at least."

He wondered if he could one day design a mech that could withstand a nuke.

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A massive crowd stood in front of an elevated platform. Over fifty thousand mech designers eagerly crowded the field. The walkers remained standing on the field while the fliers stood on empty air as their antigrav clothes held them aloft without effort.

If so many people gathered in a single location, they'd normally acted boisterous. However, none dared to utter a sound because of the awe-inspiring figures sitting silently before them. On the podium, a handful of masters stood atop pedestals that listed their functions and achievements. A handful of uniformed students and retainers surrounded the tall pillars.

The other reason why no one spoke was that the giant Colossus loomed right over their heads. It blocked out the sun, casting them all in its gigantic shadow. The effect was pronounced, and all of their confidence sapped out as they resembled ants.

An old and distinguished looking gentleman approached the front of the stage. Age, dignity and an almost palpable aura transcendence emanated from the figure. This was definitely a man who benefited from extensive life-prolonging treatments. If Ves had to guess, this man was more than five hundred years old. That meant he was born before the Age of Mechs, and witnessed its rise!

The man gazed his piercing eyes over the crowd, causing every visitor to feel their breath stolen away. Most did not know who this person was, but the few that did bowed their heads and dared not to meet his eyes. Even Ves had no clue who he was, and that meant something as he had studied the Mech Development Faculty extensively during his travels.

"Are you proud?" The old man asked, causing the crowd to fall into confusion.

Of course they were proud! They represented the future of mech design in their home planets. They were the best of the best, and judged themselves worthy to compete on a higher stage.

"You are young. Pride makes you courageous. That is good. Without enough daring, one will never go far in the world of mechs. The galaxy does not stand still at your leisure. It spins inexorably. Never stand still. Never give up. And above all else, never betray the human race."

The people around Ves fell into confusion. Was this old doddering man about to ramble?

"Humanity is kept safe from alien aggression for centuries now, that we have forgotten their ferocity. The major alien threats are still lumbering, building up their strength for a major offensive. As humans, we are doing the same! We have quietly developed deadlier warships, and engaged in horrific research in more devastating weapons of mass destruction. Do not think that you are the guardians of humanity's sovereignty. In our eyes, you are merely children playing with toys."

That elicited a murmur of disbelief and discontent. This was the Age of Mechs! Potentates received countless privileges as soon as they turned ten and mech designers with achievements under their belt were treated like royalty. To hear from someone authoritative that they were worth nothing caused plenty of designers in the crowd to lash out.

"Our work has value! We are not a bunch of wastes!"

"Have you forgotten your meds? Go back to your retirement home!"

"Warships isn't as cool as mechs!"

"HAHAHAHAHA!" The old man laughed. His sudden shift caused everyone to fall silent. "That's the spirit! Do not be content with your illusionary pride! Fight for your craft and fight for your mechs! Keep advancing and bring the mech world further to the forefront!"

The man turned around after finishing his short and bewildering speech. Half of the crowd gave the departing old fellow an applause, while others still grumbled at being belittled so casually.

An old woman took the stage this time. Thankfully, everyone knew here identity. As the dean of the Mech Development Faculty, Edith Marshall was a renowned professor and a Senior Mech Designer herself. She helmed the faculty for over fifty years, keeping its reputation steady.

"Welcome young mech designers, to the Leemar Institute of Technology's 73rd Open Competition in Mech Design. As the administrator of one of the centers of mech design in the Komodo Star Sector, and I am gratified to see so many hopefuls have arrived to take part in our event. I will go over the rules in a moment, but first, let me introduce the masters overseeing the competition."

Somehow, the surrounding area grew darker, to the point where you couldn't see your own finger if you stretched out your arm. Only Professor Marshall remained visible. She gestured towards the leftmost pillar, which lit up slowly, casting the master and everyone around it in a contrasting shadow.

"First up, let me introduce you to our youngest seat, Master Guillaume Duchamp! At the spry age of 103, he has managed to break through and receive recognition of his peers for his groundbreaking innovations in the application of liquid armor systems. This underdeveloped field is rich in potential, and Master Duchamp has steadfastly pioneered a viable path to progress for the future generation such as you!"

Everyone enthusiastically clapped without reserve. Master Duchamp was a genuine pioneer who persisted in developing a field untouched by the elites in the center of the galaxy. With the partnership of many different research institutions, he managed to lead the successful development of prototype armor that possessed both solid and liquid attributes. It was still an early product that performed only half as good as regular armor, though it did have some redeeming features. One of its major advantages was that the armor could be easily supplemented by 'pouring' more of it in liquid form.

As a relatively newly ascended master, Ves was not very impressed with Duchamp. Besides his narrow specializations, his other skills still fell behind. The only times he designed a pinnacle-level mech was when he partnered with his fellow masters.

Still, as a newcomer, Master Duchamp should also be the one most eager to attract new apprentices. The amount of people standing around his pillar was the least. A true master never worked alone. By apprenticing promising designers, not only could he expand his influence, he could also nurture a group of assistants who were able to assist him with his work.

"At our next seat, we have the eminent Master Timothy Nguyen! He has been a sitting professor of our faculty for over two hundred years, joining just after we have founded it. His contributions has been invaluable in making Leemar-2 a heaven for all things mechs. As for his mech design chops, his previous studies in shuttle systems and his current expertise in flight systems has broken many grounds. He is currently assigned as the chief designer for the Carnegie Group's frontline flight mechs."

Master Nguyen was another old fellow who rose to prominence at the beginning of the Age of mechs. He used to study shuttle design, but switched over to mechs once they became all the rage.

This three-centuries-old patriarch ruled over a dynasty of descendants, all of whom he cherishes greatly. All of his core disciples consisted of his most promising offspring. The only problem was that none of his descendants excelled enough to take over his mantle.

Though he still put a lot of effort in grooming his grandsons and granddaughters, he started to apprentice outsiders to supplement his peripheral influence. It was a pretty decent deal for those nominal disciples who did not wish to get too involved, as Master Nguyen did not demand much from them except to occasionally give a helping hand to his incompetent descendants.

He also remained a genuine master in flight systems, one of the most complex mech components to work with. Flight-capable mechs possessed a lot of mobility and could be utilized in many ways. Flight systems were also essential in operating in outer space, where there was no surface to speak of for ground mechs to maneuver. Only their immense energy requirements stopped them from being implemented universally.

"For our third seat, we have our pride and joy, Master Meredith Katzenberg! A lady after my own heart, she is one of the most remarkable minds in the field of exotic materials science. Her Katzenberg Research Institute has been a forefront in partnering with many other research organizations into the field of finding more affordable substitutes to expensive exotics that are scarce in our corner of the galaxy. Without her ceaseless work, our mechs would never possess the might to propel the Friday Coalition to a proper second-rate state!"

Everyone rose up and gave a thundering cheer to Master Katzenberg. While most designers specializing in materials science tried to incorporate ever more expensive exotics, the gracefully aged woman instead turned that around.

It was a matter of resource distribution. The mech designers situated closer to the center of the galaxy were spoiled for exotics, and could afford to incorporate all kinds of rare materials without considering their cost. Master Katzenberg recognized that this constant race towards scarcer materials could not be sustained in the remote Komodo Star Sector, so she sought to find ways to replicate the specs of rare exotics with abundant common materials.

Her few successes had been vital in lowering the costs for high-performing mechs. Even if she hadn't been able to achieve a complete success, she still developed many alloys where she diluted the main material with a handful of cheap stuff, essentially lowering the amount of exotics required without impacting its effectiveness too much.

Due to her split focus in multiple specialties, her designs never really excelled in terms of performance. However, they were always significantly cheaper and easier than any other comparable mech. Each of her designs achieved massive sales, which made her extremely desirable for anyone to request to be their master. She had the most apprentices under her wing as a result, though only a few of them gained enough of a success to bear her mantle due to the immense learning required to become proficient in her specialties.

"As for our fourth master, please welcome Master Carmin Olson. She is our most distinguished guest professor, and has contributed much with her unique perspective on mechanical engineering. Her work on ultra-efficient engines has been incorporated into many of the Friday Coalition's endurance-focused frontline mechs."

Master Olson was from the same generation as Master Duchamp. She was actually a genius nurtured by another group from the Coalition, and received recognition as a Master a little later than her male colleague. Nevertheless, her specialization in engines and mechanics was almost universally in demand.

She partnered a lot with other masters when they requested the use of her efficient engines. This exposed her to the inner workings of other masters, allowing her to shore up her weak points. Her recent solo designs gained instant appreciation from her clients due to their excellent endurance and well-roundedness.

As a guest professor, she was destined to move on after a couple of years. Thus, she did not involve herself too deeply into Leemar's matters and kept a healthy distance from anything too sensitive. One quirk of hers was that she showed very elitist tendencies. Practically all of her disciples and retainers came from the upper portion of Coalition society.

"I'd rather eat dog food than become her apprentice." Ves silently muttered to himself. Some of the rumors floating around Master Olson suggested that she was an entitled bitch in private. Too bad she had the backing of an entire major partner of the Coalition.

"Our last master presiding over the competition is our famous Master Null. At least, that is the name you should all have learned. If you happen to know his real name, then please submit yourself to our security officers so we can excise it from your memories."

Everyone laughed at the little joke, though nobody was genuinely amused.

The man sitting atop the last pedestal elegantly waved his smooth and skinny hand that was only possible if he was young or received the best life-prolonging treatment. Of course, his most intriguing feature was that he hid his face underneath a black, expressionless mask.

"I'm sure you have heard the rumors and conspiracy theories, so it makes little sense for us to deny that he is a fugitive. No matter his origins, Master Null only seeks a quiet home, thus he is a living treasure to our faculty. Though we do not dare to reveal his specialties, he has never been found lacking in any field."

As a supposed fugitive from an advanced second-rate state or a first-rate superstate, Master Null acted as an all-rounder, decent in any field but excelling in none. Of course, everyone knew he hid something special, but to prevent his pursuers from sniffing him out, he never publicly revealed his specialties.

As someone with no outward weaknesses and strengths, he was every young mech designer's second choice. Perhaps Master Null gave up on making a name for himself, for he was also a prolific teacher. He had the most core disciples under his name, and even taught his nominal disciples diligently.

Unfortunately, his lack of courage in passing down his specialties meant that his disciples only developed a mish-mash of mediocre specialties. They were good enough to stand on their own, but not enough to propel them to the highest levels of mech design.

By now, all of the pedestals glowed in the dark. Professor Marshall smiled and spread her arms. "Five out of thirteen of our faculty's masters have expressed interest in taking on an apprentice, thus they are now before you. Be mindful of your behavior and show your best performance, because you might be one of the handful chosen to ascend the skies."

Master Duchamp.

Master Nguyen.

Master Katzenberg.

Master Olson.

Master Null.

If Ves wanted to progress his career, he had to catch the eye of one of these eminent persons. Barring the snobbish Master Olson, Ves already started to formulate strategies intended to accomplish such a difficult goal.

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After Professor Marshall finished her introduction, the entire crowd seperated into groups of hundreds. Each of them were guided towards different locations, where every mech designer had to stand at a predesignated spot. Even the fliers had to stay put above the heads of the walkers.

Professor Marshall patiently waited until the student guides made sure their groups were in the right places. "Now, let us begin with the qualifiers. Three days from now, the best of you will showcase your skills to our most distinguished guests. Only a hundred of you will receive this opportunity, which means we have a big task ahead of ourselves in order to cull 99.8 percent of all contestants"

Everyone shuddered abit. Too many mech designers had flocked to the competition. Even with the age limit of thirty years, the Komodo Star Sector was simply too big.

Everytime the LIT held its open competition, they liked to mix up their tests. Though the organizers often reused most of them, the selection of tests still gave the contestants some anxiety. After all, no one claimed they excelled in everything.

"For the qualifiers, we will hold two rounds today and one more longer trial tomorrow. In our first round, you will be tested on your fundamentals. Without a well-rounded foundation, you have no right to be considered by our masters. In our experience, many of you fail to make the cut, so only one out of five will qualify for the next round."

A projection lit up in front of everyone's faces. To the surprise of Ves and everyone else, it consisted of a series of exams.

"What the hell? Are we back in school?"

"Damnit! I already forgot half of what I learned!"

"Hah! No exam will stop me! I'm the learning expert!"

Some mech designers moaned as if beset with tragedy, while others arrogantly claimed they could ace any exams in a breeze. As for Ves, he maintained his confidence. He might not have been the best book learner, but all of the knowledge he gained from the System had been comprehensively stuffed in his mind. There was no way he'd forgotten any details.

"In the real universe, when you are hired to do your job, you are expected to perform competently. Any of you who have slacked off in any fundamental subject will never have what it takes to grow in the industry. Every Senior, Master and Star Designer has reached their heights by relying on a combination of hard work and talents. Mere connections and wealth can give you a head start, but no designer has ever achieved enduring success by staying lazy."

The din quieted as some of the designers understood the professor's viewpoint. Most of the participants came from far away in order to impress the masters. These eminent figures could not be swayed by regular means such as the size of your wallets.

"Designers, please prepare to fill in the tests. Each of you have received five different exams at a level just beyond what we expect our last-year students to master. You may choose three of the subjects to fill in and submit. Take note that we will only give you five hours of time, more than enough to complete the exams if you are proficient in your chosen fields. Your scores will be counted together and only the top 10.000 will pass."

That meant that forty thousand mech designers were forced to bow out in the very first round. The Leemar Institute of Technology did not hold back in their attempts to diminish the giant crowd of designers. Most of these mech designers were about to have their hopes crushed without even getting a chance to show off their skills in front of a crowd.

"Start!"

The projections unlocked, allowing each designer to interact with the digital exam files. Ves spread them all out to see which topics Leemar picked out for him especially.

COMPUTER SCIENCE

MATHEMATICS

MECHANICS

METALLURGY

PHYSICS

Ves swore to himself. He forgot that he declined to round out his foundational skills when he last received a windfall of DP. While he considered his Mechanics and Metallurgy skills to be his best, he neglected to improve his Computer Science, Mathematics and Physics.

"Well, out of the three latter skills, I suck the least at physics."

In order to boost his confidence, he chose to start with his best subject, Mechanics. He flipped the page of the mechanics exam book and started to tackle the problems within.

"This.. this is easy!"

While the old Ves might have crashed onto a cliff, the current him hardly stumbled at the sight of these questions. He leisurely used the correct approach to answer the questions. Some of the problems even concerned how to accomplish greater speeds, which fell right into his alley with his highly developed Speed Tuning sub-skill.

Only at the end did Ves encounter some snags. He vaguely suspected that Master Olson had personally formulated these problems, because they fell into her specialties. He did not specialize in designing energy-efficient mechs, let alone engines. Only his solid foundation in Mechanics allowed him to provide basic answers to the toughest questions.

"I guess anyone who followed courses under Master Olson should breeze through these tests. Anyone else can just blame their poor luck."

When Ves put aside mechanics and opened his metallurgy exam, he raced through the first questions with record speed. While his foundation in Metallurgy was a little shallower, he still had a massive head start compared to the vast majority of his rivals.

Thankfully, most of the difficult questions at the end had to do with alloy compression. Only the elites who studied at the best second-rate institutions were exposed to this exclusive subject. An anomaly like Ves who had every possible subject in his reach simply cheated his way into mastering the basics of alloy compression. In the end, he was quite confident that he aced this exam.

"Now, onto physics. Hopefully my previous scores can compensate for my abysmal performance here."

Pure physics formed the basis of many other related subjects. Ves gritted his teeth and struggled through the problems like a soldier crawling through a trench. He used his much more solid foundation in other skills to figure out the crux of the problems posed in this exam, with mixed success. He only got off lightly when he encountered problems that had to do with his Armor Optimization sub-skills.

After five hours of tortuous number-crunching, the buzzer sounded and the projections winked out. "Time is up! That is enough, ladies and gentlemen. Take a moment to rest while our processors and assistants will score your work."

Almost every walker collapsed. While the fliers endured very little stress due to the comfort provided by their expensive antigrav clothes, the walkers had to fill in three entire exams while standing up. Ves supposed the organizers wanted to subtly test everyone's endurance, for he had witnessed a few contestants collapsing after an hour or two of standing straight.

"Heh, those guys who can't even stand for a couple of hours are pathetic."

"This test isn't fair! Why do they test us on math when processors take care of everything nowadays!"

"I have no idea why I'm being tested on assembly. It's not like I intend to pursue a career as a fabricator."

Evidently, a lot of people fared worse than Ves. He did not sympathize with them. If you wanted to compete at this level, then you'd better be as good as the students who graduated here. If Ves was still stuck as an average novice mech designer, he'd never have the guts to show up. All of his fellow contestants who overestimated themselves were about to receive a harsh dose of reality.

While everyone took a half hour break, Ves visited one of the bathroom stalls before grabbing a free lunch. Many designers huddled together and squirmed as they awaited their scores.

"Alright! Time's up! We've graded your exam papers and most of you have done a passable job. Yet we do not have any use for average results. Our masters only seek the best, and I am sorry to say that most of you will find your journey ends here."

Professor Marshall then pressed a button that caused a lot of people to light up. "Anyone who is lit up by a red light, please vacate the area!"

An uproar ensued as many overconfident designers protested their heartless elimination. While most of the walkers simply shook their heads and stepped away with glum faces, the fliers kept yelling that the evaluation was flawed and mistaken.

"SILENCE!" The dean yelled, and a large group of guards showed up with their stun rifles charged and ready to fire. "We are not your babysitters. Anyone who wishes to view their scores and protest the way we've graded them, you can go backstage. Do not hinder these proceedings."

Under the threat of getting stunned, even the most obstinate designers lowered their heads. Ves found it sad that most of the walkers had left the stage. They were simply unable to keep up with the advanced curriculum of a more developed state. He figured that most of the poor bums that are left must have some strengths to rely on to make it past this strict test.

To everyone's amusement, not everyone got the picture.

"THIS ISN'T FAIR! I'M THE SON OF-"

The poor fellow got shot by a stun projectile, shutting him up pretty quickly. A handful of his type joined him in his unconscious bliss. Fortunately for all of them, their antigrav clothes kept them aloft. Through some override, the clothes automatically floated them off the fields.

"Now, that we have that out of the way, we will proceed to your next challenge. Your task is to see whether you have what it takes to defeat your opponent in a mech design duel. Like all conventional duels, you are given a period of time, in this case eight hours, to design a mech out of a fairly limited selection of parts, though you can design your own if you wish."

Ves already participated in this kind of struggle during the qualifiers where his mech ran a gauntlet. This time, his mech faced another one in a duel, which meant he'd have to pay attention to other aspects.

"This time we've added a twist. You see, while you are allowed to design your mech in peace, you will do so in full view of your upcoming opponent, who will likewise be able to spy on your every move. Every aspect of your design is exposed to your enemy, from its loadout to its shape and even programming."

That was new! Ves had never fought a mech duel like that even in practice. This turned out to be a lot trickier than he thought. "If I'm designing a flight mech, my enemy can just designing a heavy artillery mech in response. I can counter that by designing a knight, but my opponent can counter that by designing a flying marksman."

A headache already started to build within his mind. How could he design a mech in peace when he and his opponent kept spying on each other and change their designs to incorporate counters?

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