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

7. 126

Read The Mech Touch - Chapter 126: Level Up online free - Novel Full

After spending his DP like a drunken tycoon at a casino, Ves only had 10.000 DP in his budget. While he considering splurging the entire amount on lottery tickets, he quickly reconsidered.

"My luck is rather inconsistent. I don't want to take any chances at this moment."

He opened the System's Store page and called up his wish list.

At this moment, Ves mainly sought to keep the Mech Designer System a secret. With enough credits, he could buy all manner of fancy gadgets. The only thing he couldn't readily buy with credits was a way to obscure his expanding use of the System.

[Anonymous Parcel Delivery System - Level 1]

Price: 10.000 Design Points

Range: 1 star sector

Dimensions: 1cm x 1cm x 1cm

The APDS is a sophisticated transportation device that can teleport any cargo to an unmonitored area within its range.

The description left much to be desired, but Ves got the gist, especially with his enhanced intelligence. The small device was somehow capable of instantly teleporting any object placed inside its tiny interior across many light-years.

The capacity of the box was tiny. It only had enough space to teleport a datachip, one of Lucky's gems or his nail clippings. It also drained a lot of power everytime it initiated a teleport.

Ves mainly considered purchasing the APDS due to its ability for him to remain anonymous when he traded something sensitive, like Lucky's gems. He still had to come up with a way to remain untraceable when he communicated with his clients, so until then he had no use for this item.

"Let's look at something else."

[Small Anonymizing Stamp]

Capacity: 1 cubic cm

Price: 10.000 Design Points

This specialized stamp can permanently mark any object with a special ink. The stamp has the ability to hide the special characteristics of object that receives a stamp. The SAS is only capable of affecting an object with a maximum volume of 1 cubic cm.

[Anonymizing Ink - Small]

Amount: 1 single-use cartridge

Price: 100 Design Points

This ink can be used by any compatible stamp or device to anonymize an object, thereby hiding their special characteristics. Enough ink is supplied to apply 1 small stamp.

The stamp and its separately supplied ink could completely obscure any object smaller than a single cubic centimeter. This meant it could obscure the origins of one of Lucky's gems as well as a normal-sized datapad.

The parameters only cares about the volume. This technically meant he could stamp a stick as lengthy as a shuttle as long as it was very thin and very narrow. The stamp worked as long as the object offered a large enough surface area.

"Let's go with these stamps." He decided after a moment's consideration. "The items down the list are also useful, but right now it's important to cover my tracks going forward. If I still want to make use of Lucky's gems, I have to obscure their effects."

As long as Ves applied a tiny stamp, no one would suspect the activation button of the mech to affect the machine in a mysterious way. The only downside to using the stamp was that he had to spend 100 DP for every stamp. It turned each physical mech sale a net loss in terms of DP.

He tapped his lips and weighed the costs. "I can still earn back the points when I design another virtual mech. It's more important for me to raise the performance of my premium mechs. The higher their specs, the more my fame will spread. I'll limit the use of Lucky's gems to gold and ruby label mechs."

The mass production mechs fabricated by Carlos did not deserve to be graced with a special gem. "A cheap synthesized gemstone will do."

Ves bought the stamp and a single cartridge of ink. He stuffed them both into the pocket of his antigrav clothes for now. "I should add secure storage to my shopping list."

After Ves finished his shopping, he went back to work. First, he returned to the Clifford Society's virtual portal and entered the Star Library. He scanned the most advanced Apprentice-level books and grabbed a generous selection.

He then proceeded to read them rapidly. Any Society members that walked by might think he was merely skimming the pages. In truth, with his improved cognitive abilities, he was able to understand most of the theory fairly quickly.

During his reading marathon, his comm discretely beeped. Dietrich finally sent over the thirty-five million credits from the sale of the blackmail material they found at the abandoned base.

"Took you long enough." He said. He first sent the promised twenty-five million credits to SASS. This left him with a total savings of thirty-two million credits. "It's not much of a stash, but I've got enough to spend on some additional books."

In order to accelerate his learning, Ves resorted to the open market to get his hands on Journeyman-level books. The books available for sale in the public might not be as good as the ones in the Moon Library, but at least he didn't have to spend his valuable merits.

Ves indulgently stuffed his comm with two million credits worth of virtual textbooks. He wasn't satisfied with any of them, as the pedigree of the authors fell far short of those whose works were included in the Moon Library.

"Well, beggars can't be choosers."

He essentially tried to advance his main skills by brute force. His enhanced intelligence allowed him to make sense of even the most opaque descriptions. His improved concentration also helped by keeping his focus on track. It took a lot of effort to maintain his interest in his studies.

Slowly but surely, his strategy paid dividends. By combining quality Apprentice-level books from the Star Library with the awful Journeyman-level books from the galactic net, he eventually broke through. He reached Journeyman in both Physics and Mathematics two weeks later.

"Finally, I'm done!" He screamed in the air. He tiredly rubbed his eyes and stood up from his terminal. He walked over to Carlos to see how much progress he made so far. "How many successes?"

"Just three so far." He shook his head as he kept his focus level on the assembler. Trying to stuff the mess of cables and components into a limited space without breaking anything always eluded Carlos so far. "This mech is just too damn finicky with its internals. The three intact mechs I've fabricated so far are complete flukes."

Funding his first employee's fabrication spree also took a toll on Ves. He expected Carlos to master the process now that more than a month went by. What he saw instead was Carlos tripping over the last hurdle over and over.

Ves stretched out his palm. "Okay, this clearly isn't working. Just stop."

"I'm sorry Ves. I thought I could master it, but this darned design is too insane."

"You should see the original Caesar Augustus. That one is at least fifty percent harder to put together. In any case, there's no use for you to work on either designs. They're too advanced and too complex."

"Then what should I do next?"

Obviously Ves didn't want Carlos to sit on his thumbs waiting for him to finish his redesign. "Go ahead and practice on my virtual mechs for now. You need to get the hang of fabricating all kinds of mechs. Start with my 1-star designs like the simple Nomad and work your way up to my 3-star Young Blood."

"I'll be sure to master the Young Blood once you're done with your redesign." Carlos promised him. He knew he screwed up.

"That's good, because some of the design principles I've used in the Young Blood will carry over to the Marc Antony Mk II. By the way, the Young Blood also makes use of compressed armor, so you should skip that step as usual until you are ready to learn its principles."

Alloy compression was an extremely sensitive and dangerous process that could go wrong in many ways. At best it could ruin a batch of multi-million credits worth of exotics. At worst, the entire compression machine might blow up.

Ves still had to find a way to automate the production of compressed armor plating. One of the reasons why he hungered for the Dortmund was that it could link up to a good quality alloy compressor and fabricate compressed plates in a single session.

After settling his fabricator's new training, Ves left the workroom and entered the area where Lucky previously hibernated. The glowing blue ball winked out a few days ago and left a sparkling new mechanical cat in place.

His pet clearly benefited from the unidentified piece of ore from Master Olson. It must have been worth quite a lot, but without any headway into figuring out its use, Ves had no regrets in passing it on to Lucky.

"How are you buddy? Have you recovered from your sleep?"

Lucky tiredly meowed at him while brushing its burnished bronze exterior with his tongue. Ves bent down and scratched his mechanical pet between the ears. He admired Lucky's shiny new exterior and examined his status.

[Pet Status]

Name: Lucky

Owner: Ves Larkinson

Rank: Gold [Exclusive]

Level: 2

Skills

[Gem Excretion II]

[Energy Claws I]

Lucky already gained the ability to claw through armor from a previous gift. His cat did not gain anything special this time when it consumed the ore. Instead, his cat leveled up. Ves understood that as an upgrade to its core functionality. The cat grew a little tougher, faster and maybe smarter.

His exclusive Gem Excretion ability also advanced. Any gems that Lucky excreted from now turned into real treasures. Compared to the pitiful gems that Ves had stuffed in a safe, the newer gems should be twice as strong.

Ves already looked forward to what Lucky might 'produce'. He already had his Anonymizer Stamp in hand. "It's getting dangerous these days. Don't go excreting your gems into the woods without me next time. Let me raise my Privacy Shield first before you do your business."

Lucky lightly smacked his hand with his paw, as if expressing his dissatisfaction.

"Don't be like that Lucky. I already have a huge shipment of tasty ores in my storage room."

That certainly perked up the cat. Lucky rose from his bed and raced out of the living room in a hasty scramble. Ves scratched his head. Did his cat even know how to open the locks?

He followed after his overeager pet and opened one of the drawers for him. He only withdrew a modest chunk of minerals for his cat. He didn't want to see his cat grow fat.

"Take your time, Lucky. I've got plenty of stock ready for you to devour." He cooed, already thinking about the small mountain of gems his pet could excrete.

Having taken care of Lucky's dinner, Ves left the living room and exited the workshop.

Underneath the ever-present clouds, a highly automated construction force fortified the perimeter. The bots already removed the flimsy electric fence. Sanyal-Ablin's workers already measured out an expanded square of fortified walls. Large glowing pillars of light marked the locations where they planned to place the turrets.

Ves approached the construction foreman. "Any problems?"

"None that requires your attention, Mr. Larkinson. The soil here is softer than we anticipated, so we will have to treat it along the way. We're also having difficulties in obtaining our permits from the Freslin City Council. Without their say-so, we aren't allowed to install our heavy turrets."

"I see." Ves thinned his lips. He forgot about the local government in his expansion plans. "What kind of objections have they mentioned?"

"Well, nothing. They don't outright reject our applications, but they are letting them hang in limbo. This seems strange because there aren't any other major projects that is going on that can explain the delays."

The foreman didn't spell out his suspicions directly, but Ves got the message.

"Do I need to pay a visit to the city hall? Remind them that there's a time sensitive project waiting for their approval in my yard?" Ves asked as he tried to figure out a way to exert his influence on the government without ruining his relationship with them. After all, he still enjoyed a privileged status.

"It may help. It's rather strange. Normally our name is enough to cow the local bureaucrats. Our managers suspect that someone else is directing their obstruction."

That was great. "Do you know if the mastermind is from the Republic or from the Coalition?"

"You'll have to speak with Miss Robyn for that. My guess is that it's a foreigner who's stuck their hands into the pot."

"Okay, thank you for informing me." Ves said and tipped his head to the helpful foreman. "I'll dig into this immediately."

"Thank you, Mr. Larkinson. The longer this goes on, the more it will cost."

Ves grumbled a bit. Who thought that with his status, a local still dared to mess around. He could forgive a politician or a bureaucrat who opposed him for a good reason, but this naked obstructionism benefited no one but the shadow behind the scenes.

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The Bright Republic governed a suburban planet like Cloudy Curtain with a light touch. The planet lacked any form of large-scale industry and their system had no asteroids worth mining. In such a dirtball of a planet, the Republic generally took a hands off approach. As long as nobody entertained traitors, foreigners or aliens, the government could care less what you did.

That was the theory at least. Ves stormed past the construction site and entered his workshop with stomping steps.

His visit to Freslin's city hall accomplished nothing. With a little digging, he found out the Director of Planning handled the city's permit applications. Ves wanted to meet with Director Balcai, but after an hour of fruitless arguing he couldn't even get past the secretary!

"I don't need this problem." Ves muttered as he sank down on his couch. A sated-looking Lucky sauntered over to his lap and sank down in a cute little slump. Ves absently stroked the cat's smooth bronze-colored back. "If you were facing a stuffy director, what would you do?"

Lucky merely continued to swish his tail in utter bliss.

"Okay, I get it. You're too lazy to address the problem."

Sadly for Ves, he couldn't bury his head in the sand. If he let Director Barker have his way, who knew if he came the next morning with a notice that forbid commercial activity? He had to draw a line in the sand.

"I can't do anything alone, but I've got friends who can help."

He came up with three different parties who might lend a hand.

First, he could contact Horatio for assistance. The current situation reeked of Coalition influence. If he involved Master Olson's faction early, the other party might back off.

The only problem with this option was that he might be calling in the big guns to address a trivial issue. Horatio might lend a hand anyway, but then Ves cemented his reputation as a useless designer who couldn't take care of his own messes.

"Best leave Horatio as a final option. My current situation hasn't gone so far to warrant his intervention."

Next, he could turn to the Larkinsons. His uncle Ark commanded a lot of respect in the Mech Corps while his grandfather Benjamin worked in the Ministry of Defense. Both of them wielded a substantial amount of influence in the military affairs of the Bright Republic.

These connections also became a shackle to the family. Ves knew that his family members always tried to stay away from overt politicking. They might have strong opinions when it came to the disposition of the Mech Corps, but outside of that they kept their mouth shut.

If Ves called in his family, he might inadvertently throw them into a political minefield. "I'm sure they can help, but I'm not sure whether my opponents already prepared a nasty surprise for us."

That left Walter's Whalers. The local mercenary gang recently returned to Cloudy Curtain in a triumphant mood. Mr. Walter himself led the expedition himself and salvaged every nut and bolt from the abandoned base that Ves and Dietrich stumbled upon. The Whalers beat off several curious mercenary corps who wanted in on the action.

The Whalers returned home a little battered but with very few casualties. All of the scrap had already been sold to a few interested parties from Bentheim. Mr. Walter currently sat on a mountain of credits worth roughly half a billion credits.

As the person responsible for making their enormous haul possible, Ves could easily ask a favor from Dietrich and the Whalers. As the locals, the Whalers were best suited to liaise with the local government. That was if Ves ignored the contentious relationship between the two. The Whalers also had a tendency to act unbridled and without tact.

"They might even punch the living daylights out of Director Balcai!"

None of these options sounded good. Ves belatedly realized that if he wanted to grow his business, he had to secure his political flank. If he continued to ignore the bureaucrats and politicians in charge of administering the planet, his company remained vulnerable to their predations.

"I need a political advisor."

Ves never really paid much attention to the local politics. Cloudy Curtain always seemed to be governed by the same set of parties. The coalitions that ruled the local city councils and the planetary government changed every few years.

He didn't have much more of an understanding than that, so he rather wanted to dump this mess into someone else's lap. Ves knew his limitations.

Since he had to solve this problem quickly, Ves did not bother posting his job offer on the galactic net. Instead, he first studied the affiliations of Freslin's City Council.

"Looks simple enough." Ves remarked as he read through the brief biographies of the mayor and the directors. "Mayor Davidovich is a member of the White Doves while Director Balcai represents the Greens."

The White Doves advocate for keeping Cloudy Curtain as boring and static as possible. They drew most of their support from elderly migrants from Bentheim who hated the hustle and bustle of the busy port system.

The Greens on the other hand formed a core interest group of the deeply rooted locals. They wanted to preserve the unique and tranquil environment of Cloudy Curtain and detested any form of heavy development.

Of all the groups who could stand up to them, Ves favored the Pioneers. They advocated for a prosperous and well-developed Cloudy Curtain where everyone's living standards reached the level of the Republic's upper-tier planets.

The Pioneers also fought a generations-long battle against the stodgy two parties who wanted to keep Cloudy Curtain impoverished. Despite their support for growth, they primarily stood up for the poorest who still lived in crumbling apartments and second-hand shuttles converted to mobile homes.

As a backwater, Cloudy Curtain lacked the economic development to ensure everyone enjoyed the services they were entitled to. The only reason why the Pioneers hadn't taken control of the government was that the Greens and the White Doves enjoyed entrenched support from the wealthiest segment of the population.

It all sounded stupid to him. He only gathered enough information to know that he had to find someone who could help him establish a relationship with the Pioneers. Fortunately, as a local, Ves was familiar with the local hangouts. He knew just the place to go.

The Heritage Cafe pretended to bring a slice of Rittersberg to downtown Freslin. Placed conveniently next to Freslin University's campus, they drew a regular crowd of up-and-coming youths who dreamed of making it big.

When Ves opened the old-fashioned wooden door and walked inside, half of the patrons turned to look at him. Despite his common-looking face, his business suit gave off an aura of understated elegance. He specifically configured his antigrav clothes to come across as a young but successful entrepreneur.

He looked around but couldn't spot any obvious member of the Pioneers. Shrugging, Ves took a seat next to the window and ordered a cup of locally cultivated coffee.

Agriculture comprised of Cloudy Curtain's largest sector. Its stable, temperate climate and unpolluted air allowed for the cultivation of many authentic crops in natural conditions. The huge amount of produce harvested every year kept the upper class of Bentheim fed with natural food.

As Ves calmly sipped his beverage, he kept his ears open. He distinguished multiple conversations, most of them concerning their schoolwork or the latest mech duels. He eventually honed in on a specific conversation between a girl and her boyfriend. He grabbed his cup and walked over to the pair.

"Hello, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Are the two of you related to the Pioneers?"

"I'm a committee member of the youth division." The woman proudly said. "Don't mind my man here. He's a political illiterate."

"Hey! Just because I don't pay attention to such nonsense doesn't mean I'm stupid!"

"Shush now, Remon."

The young woman turned out to be Calsie Doornbos, a law school student. When Ves introduced himself, they looked dumbstruck.

"You're that mech designer who showed up in every broadcast a few months ago!"

It took some time for them to calm down. Once Ves explained his problems and why he sought the woman out, Calsie frowned a bit.

"If there's evidence that Director Balcai is taking his marching orders from the Coalition, then he could be charged for treason. In practice, stuff like that is notoriously difficult to prove. You have to be aware that Freslin's City Council is not in favor of increased industrialisation. They can truthfully say that they are enacting their existing policies."

"They aren't rejecting my application outright. They are delaying it endlessly."

"That means that they still have scruples. If they deny you a permit, then they'll be leaving a record that others can use to whack them over the head. You're one of our planet's most prominent new citizens. It doesn't look good for them if they appear to be picking a fight with you."

Calsie possessed a good awareness of what went on in these circles. Ves wanted to make use of such an astute and knowledgeable person.

"Are you willing to work for me?"

"Excuse me?"

Both Calsie and Remon were stunned that Ves offered the woman a job out of the blue.

"I'm honored, Mr. Larkinson, but I'm not sure it's a good idea. I'm still a student. I still have some years left before I graduate."

"I'm not looking for a lawyer, not yet at least." Ves quickly reassured her. "I'm merely looking for a political advisor or fixer who can help liaise with the local government and the Pioneers on my behalf. It will largely be an informal, part-time job that only requires a couple of hours per week to fulfill."

"What if there's nothing going on, and everyone else is staying quiet?"

"Staying quiet doesn't mean that I'm safe. I'd like you to receive a weekly report from you that details whatever is going on in Freslin and Orinoco that's relevant to my mech business. Is that something you'd like to do?"

"What's the pay?"

"How about two-thousand credits a month?"

"Deal!"

For the amount of work Calsie expected to do for Ves, the salary completely satisfied her. She already followed the local politics like a junkie. Getting paid to continue her hobby sounded like a great deal.

"Alright. Let's exchange contact details and I'll send you an employment contract later. Right now, I'm kind of in a hurry, so I'd like you to take care of something for me."

"You want me to handle your stalled permit problem?"

"Right." Ves nodded. He activated his comm and selected some documents in its storage. He then waved his hand at her, initiating a transfer of files to her own comm. "Please read them over so you can formulate an approach. Remember, I don't want you to act like a wrecking ball. Just smooth over the problem without sparking a feud."

"You do know that I'm a known member of the Pioneers. I doubt the Greens and White Doves who are ruling in the City Council will appreciate my presence."

"They could have left me alone, but they deliberately pushed me away from them. Who else can I turn to?" Ves sighed and crossed his arms. "Mind you, I'm not joining your camp, but I think there are plenty of ways we can cooperate. One of the reasons why I decided to hire you is because I want to establish a channel with the Pioneers."

They discussed a bit more of what Ves expected Calsie to do. Everything had to be legal and aboveboard, though Ves did not mind if she used her own connections to get something done.

Once they gained a thorough understanding with each other, Ves left the cafe and returned home to take care of the paperwork. He sent over a contract an hour later, which she quickly signed and sent back. With that done, Ves sat back on his chair and looked at the ceiling.

"Hopefully I picked the right person as my second employee."

Ves might have been a little hasty hiring a random student off the street, but he did not want this matter to stretch out. If Calsie turned to be all bark and no bite then he'd simply fire her and call Dietrich.

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Calsie called back two days later. She enlisted the help of the Pioneers in putting pressure on the City Council. Ves interrupted her explanation and only wanted to know if she got his permit.

"Well, the short answer is yes." She said. "It should have gone into immediate effect by now. "

To verify her words, Ves stepped outside. The bots and construction workers from SASS had picked up their work and were beginning the long and difficult process of installing and entrenching the heavy turrets.

"Work has resumed. Looks like there are no more barriers in my way."

His advisor warned him not to let his guard down. "There will be inspectors keeping an eye on your property in order to make sure you don't exceed the specifications laid out in your application."

"That's fine. As long as the City Council steps aside, they can watch all they want."

Ves appreciated her efficiency. Even if she did not do much on her own, she proved to be a valuable contact who could leverage the Pioneers on his behalf. Certainly, they might pay a visit to him in order to ask for a favor, but that was the way the universe worked.

His new employee passed him a warning. "I've been doing some snooping around, and there's an undercurrent of dissatisfaction regarding your decision to base your company on this planet."

"What kind of excuses are they throwing around?"

"The White Doves are afraid that someone as prominent as you will attract raids from pirates or enemies who have a bone to pick with you. The greens are dissatisfied with the increase of interstellar traffic and the pollution they bring when they transport your goods."

Calsie made it clear that the local politicians weren't done with him yet.

"Will they be ambushing me with anything else in the next two months?"

"Not as far as I'm aware of. The likelihood still exists. I think the Doves and the Greens are taken aback at your sudden courtship with the Pioneers."

"That's good. You can pass on to the Pioneers that I'm open to collaboration. Right now, I'm occupied with a very important project. I'll be largely indisposed for two months."

After passing on a couple of instructions to his new advisor, he ended the call.

He smiled and stretched his arms. "Now that there are no more distractions, it's about time I start with redesigning the Marc Antony."

He loved Marc Antony. As his first commercial design, he fabricated two physical mechs and sold them to two different customers. Those mechs were still in use today, causing Ves to feel a strange form of parental pride.

"I brought those mechs to life with my own two hands. They are my children in a sense."

His sentiments made him reluctant to change the design. Such an act proved he lacked faith in his own work and that he found it necessary to correct its shortcomings. This mental barrier pushed Ves to keep finding excuses.

Still, if he continued to procrastinate, then what was the point of taking this profession? "I can't aim for perfection all the time. There's a time when I have to draw the line and say it's enough."

Ves did not have the luxury to indulge in endless study and indolent diversions. He had to run a business. No matter how many virtual mechs he designed, the real universe only cared about physical mechs.

"Let's get to work. First, I'll have to draw up a schedule."

He opened his terminal and split his redesign project into several chunks.

First, he planned to spend an entire day to developing and refining a focused intent.

He dedicated three entire weeks to revamping the mech's entire internal structure.

After that, he allocated two weeks to revamping and optimizing the mech's armor.

The week after that consisted of tweaking and optimizing the remaining self-contained components such as the engines, power reactor, cockpit as well as the weapons.

Once he finished going through all of the components, he planned to subject his design to a barrage of tests for the next two weeks.

"Looks like a decent schedule." Ves nodded to himself as he drew back. "Hopefully, three weeks is enough to finish the enormous task of creating an entirely new internal structure."

Ves recently gained the Structural Pathway Configuration II sub-skill for this task. Still, he never specialized in Electrical Engineering, and only managed to reach Apprentice-level through the System. He did not wish to delay this project any further in order to spend a month in trying to raise it again.

He shook his head and redirected his thoughts to establishing a strong image for the Marc Antony Mk II.

In hindsight, Ves realized he constructed a rather chaotic image for the Marc Antony. After untangling the jumbled mess he initially composed, he realized he combined three separate images into one.

The first image consisted of the appearance of an Ancient Roman Legionnaire. He started with the standard knight form from the Caesar Augustus and adjusted its appearance to look like a Roman soldier. The most significant change was that he took the base model's kite shield and added enough bulk to turn it into a hefty tower shield.

The Roman Legionnaire contributed strongly to the defense portion of the image. The inspiration invoked a trust in the shield, a sense of martial discipline and a grit that never faltered.

The next image related to the names of the variant and its base model. Jason Kozlowski originally named his mech the Caesar Augustus due to its prominence in taking up an inspirational leadership role on the battlefield. Ves kept to the theme by taking the name of the Roman Emperor's defeated rival Marc Antony.

As an image, the name evoked a strong sense of daring and the willingness to seize opportunities. This fit with the style of a cavalry general, whose formations changed the course battle with a well-timed charge.

The last component had to do with the mech's intended role. As an advanced mech and a hybrid knight, the mech served as a pivotal lynchpin in the battlefield. It combined the defensive stance of a knight with the offensive tendencies of an aggressive frontline leader.

He slipped in the last image unintentionally. Ves tentatively concluded he added this last one in due to his exuberance in creating his first production design. The hybrid knight acted as the glue that bonded the two previous images together in a coherent whole.

From the information he gathered and the guesses he made, Ves came to a tentative conclusion on how to evoke the X-Factor. He couldn't prove his hypotheses, but he figured it didn't hurt to adjust his mindset.

"There's two layers to it. The primal layer absorbs the essence of my intent. It distills the most complex images into its core components."

For example, when he formed the inspiration of a Roman Legionnaire, the primal layer stripped all unnecessary elements. It only preserved the overarching meanings embedded in the image, such as defense, discipline and grit.

The second portion that made up the X-Factor consisted of the conscious layer. Ves only inferred the existence of this layer when he studied a lot of replays of past matches. The Unicorn, Marc Antony and Young Blood all exhibited signs that they affected the conscious judgement of their pilots.

"Can an image actually come to life this way?"

Ves grappled with this question. It sounded impossible. How could figments of his imagination develop a conscious mind? "The X-Factor doesn't make sense in the first place."

Without deriving the theory on how the X-Factor operated, Ves could not draw upon humanity's existing understanding of the universe. He had to watch out for coloring his assumptions with unconscious biases. Researchers who studied alien technology specifically learned to detect and mitigate their prejudices.

Only his instincts hinted that he was on the right track. Ves imagined what it meant if his guesses panned out. "If there's two layers to the X-Factor, then there might be a third or a fourth, just waiting to be discovered."

All of these were fanciful thoughts that Ves had no way of uncovering now. He shoved aside the matter and set his sights on working with the two layers he identified so far.

"There's an issue." Ves slowly realized as he formulated an optimal model for the X-Factor. "The primal layer works best with strong simple concepts. The conscious layer on the other hands requires an extensive backstory in order to shape its personality."

The two demanded competing approaches. If Ves spent his time on focusing on a few key concepts and left the details vague, then the design would carry strong instincts but weak direction. If he flipped around his priorities, then his mechs could consciously assist the pilot but with a weaker boost to overall performance.

Both had their good points, and Ves believed a design could be strong in both. He just had to find the right approach.

"This is mostly a mental exercise, so as long as I have the right mentality, I can strengthen both."

That was easier said than done. Ves believed he owed his previous good scores for the Unicorn and Marc Antony due to his passion. If Ves stopped second-guessing every decision, he might be able to hold contradictory thoughts. In short, the key to maximizing his X-Factor was to hold a delusional mindset.

"I'm not about to get drunk or inject myself with stimulants in order to reach this state." He quickly decided. Those kind of shortcuts might work for artists, but engineers like Ves had to remain sober in order to work with precise schematics.

Ves had to refrain from going off half-cocked. He could try out his outlandish theories when he designed his virtual mechs. Since he intended for the Marc Antony Mk II to serve as an active combat mech, he had the obligation to deliver a stable product.

"Let's settle for a basic approach. An advanced mech will generally be piloted by talented and experienced mech pilots. These kinds of customers benefit more from a boost in instincts than having a second opinion."

He had to remind himself that only professionals bought and piloted his mechs.

After all of this theory-crafting, Ves finally got down to the brass tacks. He sat back in his chair and spent the rest of the day with fleshing out the inspirations for the second version of his variant.

Mindful of his priorities, he focused mainly on strengthening the detail of their combat performance. The Roman Legionnaire became a gritty veteran of uncountable campaigns. Marc Antony demolish the Gauls under the direction of Julius Caesar. Ves skimmed the parts where they were not in battle.

When it came to the hybrid knight, Ves halted for a moment. "Can I even use an inanimate object as an image?"

It posed another interesting question. Without trying it, Ves had no idea if it was possible. According to his previous hypotheses, using a shield as an inspiration showered the primal layer with defense-oriented instincts optimized for shield handling.

Using a mech to inspire another mech sounded strange. Ves had the feeling the notion resembled asking whether the chicken or the egg came first. It posed another conundrum especially when the existence of the X-Factor presumed that mechs also lived.

Eventually, Ves concluded it might not be any harm to proceed with constructing a life around a hybrid knight. "I think all those passionate mech designers throughout history must have also imbued their designs in this fashion. There might even be a form of self-fulfilling prophecy at work where the traits the designers wished for are actually expressed in their product."

It explained why some designs like the Caesar Augustus radiated faint auras. The mech designers in question remained ignorant to the X-Factor, so they never picked it up like Ves who at least reached Incompetent at Metaphysics.

"I can probably advance it to Apprentice once I test out all of hypotheses." Ves remarked, aware of the possibility of treading new ground. In the entire galaxy, perhaps only the creator of the Mech Designer System had walked this path.

Ves treated the matter of constructing an image around the hybrid knight carefully. He incorporated both elements of defense and offense, but his main focus laid in increasing the synergy between the mech and the pilot. Both were indispensible. If Ves had to pick a single concept to embody his thoughts on the matter, then it was trust.

The pilot trusted his machine to perform at its best, and to never falter.

The mech trusted his pilot to steer it right and treat it with respect.

Now that Ves polished the images into shape, he began the arduous task of holding them in his mind. His enhanced concentration worked overtime trying to keep the images distinct in his mind. He wrangled the three sources of inspiration into place and condensed them into a beam of focused intent.

He managed to hold this strenuous state for an hour, but no more. Ves had to rest his mind so that he could piece together his frayed concentration. That took at least ten to fifteen minutes.

"Looks like I'll be taking regular breaks once I start with the next phases."

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Patricia set down her data pad that displayed the Herald's interview with Ves. She sat back on her perch overlooking a peaceful garden at a private island on Leemar. The woman glanced at the projection of a familiar mech as it endured a ferocious missile bombardment.

"Now that you have studied the Young Blood, what are your thoughts, Patricia?" A female voice asked from the side.

Lyri Reywind, a foreign Journeyman Mech Designer under the employ of Master Null, popped a cultured grape-like fruit in her mouth. Since Patricia acknowledged the famed mech designer as her master, Lyri brought her up to speed. Patricia improved remarkably as she supplemented her solid foundation with a couple of intermediate skills.

"The construction of the Young Blood is not remarkable, though it is well-built." Patricia answered after organizing her thoughts. "The overall complexity of the knight type is fairly low, so it is not a large accomplishment for an Apprentice Mech Designer to achieve this result. I can only say that Ves has a strong foundation."

"Is that all you can perceive from his mech? If it is merely a good construction, then it shouldn't be generating the modest amount of buzz in the news."

"The weapon is solid but nothing special. The augments have been improved, but only marginally. The armor's contours have changed and the internal structure is a lot more flexible. Any pilot who steps into the Young Blood's cockpit will appreciate the vastly improved handling."

"These are factual statements that any decent mech designer can make when they compare spec sheets." Lyri admonished her junior while she shook her head in disappointment. "You are a talented mech designer, but you are still too sheltered. Don't look at the design with your brain. Instead, look at it with your heart."

Patricia looked befuddled. Her elegant eyebrows furrowed as she set aside all the numbers and statistics and focused solely on the projection of the virtual mech in battle. She did not know the mech pilot on display, but thought that he or she performed like a natural on the battlefield. Was she looking at a professional?

No. The pilot's skill fell short. Instead, the mech moved fluently and decisively. Patricia did not spot the characteristic pauses and second-guessing of a pilot of this caliber. Now that she thought about it, many of the replays she reviewed had shown that every pilot performed close to their optimum without being burdened by various mental distractions.

"Is there something funny going on with the neural interface?"

"No." Lyri responded. "I've checked the design myself. The neural interface is a bog-standard model that hasn't changed a bit from the original Hoplite design. Think. What can affect a design's performance that does not show up in the schematics or spec sheets?"

"Design philosophy? That's impossible! He's only an apprentice, far from the level where a design philosophy should manifest!"

"The human race is endlessly varied. There are many exceptions to the rule. We lump in everything unexplainable into a concept called design philosophy because only few of us are able to exhibit phenomena beyond our understanding. Master Olson has a good eye for her to spot such a gem in the wild."

Normally, novices and apprentices have only vaguely heard about design philosophy. From their basic textbooks, design philosophy embodied a mech designer's understanding of mech design and signified their unique insights that no one else could imitate.

In truth, design philosophy embodied much more than simple understanding. Patricia knew a little more about the concept. Only those who developed their design philosophy past a certain point broke through to Senior and Master Mech Designers. All others stopped their advancement once they reached the limits of Journeyman.

"Don't be discouraged, Patricia. Design philosophy comes with experience and learning. One must first learn to crawl before they can learn to walk."

"At what stage is Ves right now?"

"I'd say he's actually running the hundred meter sprint right now. There's no way he can keep this up without damaging his foundations."

"Then we should warn him!" Patricia yelled and brought up her comm.

Lyri cut the air with the palm, shutting off all signal traffic on the island. "Stop!"

"Why?!"

"Do you think his Master is unaware? A lesson only hits home when it hurts. When little Ves inevitably falls and trips, Master Olson will be there to pick up the pieces."

Despite her concern, Patricia had no right to interfere. Every mech designer had to seek their own truths and find their own path to greatness.

Back in Cloudy Curtain, Ves prepared to resume his efforts to revamp his outdated production design.

"This next step is going to be a pain."

The second phase of his redesign project consisted of revamping the internal structure or architecture of the Marc Antony. Ves did not intend to replace any of the existing components stuffed inside the mechs, though they were also the source of the problem. The Caesar Augustus used some of the best currentgen componente available for licensing.

The engine, power reactor, weapons and more performed quite well compared to the competition. However, performance often correlated with size, so they all took up more space than average. For a medium mech trying to stay within its weight class, this created an awful situation.

What Ves learned from his newly gained Structural Pathway Configuration sub-skill helped him understand the issue at hand. He got a sense of what the base model tried to accomplish.

Mech designers learned fairly early in their studies that they were brought up to design war machines. These mechs not only had to perform at their optimum when fully maintained, they also had to endure various debilitating conditions.

If a mech got its arm cut off, its systems adjusted by enacting some form of damage control. For example, the mech adjusted its balance and cut off any feeds and systems designed to interact with the missing arm.

If a shot snapped an important power feed to the arms, then the mech adjusted by routing power through an alternate path. These backup lines may not be able to bear the full load, but it at least insured the limb maintained a basic amount of functionality.

Both mech pilots and mech designers consider redundancy important. An easy but misleading way to determine a mech's overall redundancy was to look at their redundancy factor. Expressed in percentages, the RF summarized how much damage a mech could take before it started to lose performance.

Any mech certified by the Mech Trade Association had to meet a minimum standard of redundancy.

Heavy mechs always reached a minimum of 100% RF. This proved that all of its basic systems could be run on a parallel internal structure with no loss of functionality. This took up a lot of a heavy mech's internal space, but since they often acted as punching bags, pilots always wanted more.

Medium mechs only had to meet a 50% RF. The mech's critical systems such as its basic feeds between the power reactor, cockpit, engines had fully functional backups that could take over the transfer of power and data. Less essential systems had to make due without these redundancies.

Light mechs always had to do more with less, so a 25% RF already strained an average light mech. These kinds of paperweight mechs relied entirely on speed and evasion, so it did not have much use for redundancy in the first place. A single heavy hit could easily wipe out the main feed and all of its backup feeds at the same time.

Other factors also mattered when it came to mitigating damage, the most important of which was compartmentalization. When a particular section of a mech sustained a hit, ideally the damage only affected that portion. A well-designed internal structure contained the spillovers from both the source of the damage and any cascading faults such as follow-up explosions.

Same as redundancy, an MTA-certified mech also had to meet a minimum standard of compartmentalization, expressed in CF.

Unlike RF that for some heavy mechs reached as high as 300%, CF only had reached a theoretical maximum of 100%. The MTA mandated a CF of 10% for light mechs, 15% for medium mechs and 50% for heavy mechs.

Regardless of CF and RF, the MTA-mandated minimum only barely met the needs of mech pilots. Those who wished to purchase a more secure mech always sought out mechs with significantly higher margins of safety.

What Jason Kozlowki decided to do when he ran out of internal space astounded Ves. Instead of addressing the root of the problem by replacing his core components with more compact versions, he started cutting into his CF and RF.

Between the two, Jason evidently valued redundancy more. He tried to keep as much redundancy intact as possible by optimizing his design's internal architecture for space.

He basically removed a lot of internal dividers and active suppression systems that localized the damage. He also filled up the buffer space with more junk, causing many cables and feeds to squeeze together.

"What a self-obsessed idiot." Ves quietly cursed. "If Mr. Kozlowski's design team only had one fellow mech designer with a spine, then this travesty might never have come into being."

He had to make due with what he got. With the same core components already taking up a substantial chunk of space, Ves had to puzzle out an entirely new architecture that could somewhat raise the base model's dismal 17% CF while maintaining its 85% RF.

"A medium knight is considered decent if its redundancy factor is 100%. A hybrid knight is also expected to draw the enemy fire, so it a 50% RF is wholly insufficient."

Ves allocated three full weeks to come up with a cleaner internal structure. He got to work by drafting the basic pathways around the mech's internal frame and core components. Cables, feeds, artificial musculature and support structures slowly filled in the contours of his design.

Even this simple chore turned strenuous due to his need to maintain three images at once in order to nurture the X-Factor. He shortened his sessions to forty-five minutes in order to prevent his mind from slipping into an abyss each time he overdrafted his focus.

The changes in the routine succeeded in lowering his stress. Ves tentatively added more details to the schematic when he overlaid the primary channels with additional ones. He only started straining his mind once the gaps started filling in. Ves had to be a little more inventive and a lot more patient to figure out his solutions.

Most of the work at this stage involved a lot of trial and error. Every time he came across a bump, he had to try out 999 different solutions before obtaining one that didn't suck.

It also happened to be the ideal whetstone for Ves to get used to holding three images at once. As two weeks slowly went by, Ves became more proficient in flexing his mind.

He did not increase his Intelligence or Concentration attribute in any measurable way. Instead he learned to utilize his existing strengths closer to their full potential.

In the final week, Ves finished over 98% of his desired end state. Sadly, the final two percent seemed incredibly tough to complete. His completely revamped internal architecture looked neat, clean and incorporated a lot more buffer space. Along with employing some other tricks, his design used up about five percent less space while raising its overall endurance.

Ves managed to raise its compartmentalization to 29% while maintaining a redundancy of 81%. The vastly increased CF ensured that any damage his mechs sustained remained limited to the affected portion.

The original Caesar Augustus did not have to worry so much about this issue due to its excellent compressed armor. Since the Marc Antony incorporated the cheap and disposable HRF armor system, Ves had to ensure it kept running if the mech sustained severe damage.

"After hundreds of thousands of simulations, I'm finally done with this matter." He sighed as he released his concentrated state. By now, had become accustomed to holding three thoughts at once, though it always remained somewhat challenging.

He already invested much of himself in this project. The Marc Antony Mark II had to exceed everyone's expectations in order to generate sufficient sales. Only through selling physical mechs could he earn enough money! No matter how many virtual mechs he designed, they never earned him more than a million credits.

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Calsie walked past the newly installed walls and turrets with a nervous gait. No one stayed calm when they had to face those ferocious defenses. Various bots patrolled the grounds, making sure to inspect the college girl when they hovered close.

After receiving a final inspection from a uniformed security officer, she finally got to enter her new employer's workshop. Compared to the deadly gleaming turrets, the interior appeared much more down to earth.

She quickly reached a living area where a handful of couches, tables and even a drinks dispenser occupied the room. Ves already sat at one of the couches and gestured her to take a seat while he petted a marvellous-looking mechanical cat.

"Please take a seat."

"Mr. Larkinson, I have your report for the month." Calsie said and slid over a secure datachip. She could have sent it through the galactic net, but considering the sensitivity of the information she put it in a hardcoded form first.

"Give me a summary. Anything going on that I should know about?"

"There are hints that another player from Bentheim has entered the field. A very wealthy corporation is making inroads with the White Doves."

"Have you determined their identity?"

"From what my contacts in the Pioneers have inferred, it's likely to be the Ricklin Corporation."

Ves stopped petting his cat, causing the animal in question to meow in indignation.

"The Ricklins. Sure enough, they're thinking about taking revenge." He sighed, and scratched Lucky's head in order to placate his cat. "A traitor used my second-ever fabricated mech to wipe out at least half of their upper echelon. Shouldn't they be consolidating their assets and reorganizing their ranks?"

"Turmoil is still wracking the Ricklin family, but support is building up around a young genius of the family. The chaos is expected to end as soon as the last holdouts accept a compromise."

"Great. So I'll have to deal with two sources of outside pressure. Not only do I have to worry about the tiger next door, but I also have to guard against the distant meddlers from the Friday Coalition."

Calsie tried to reassure her employer. "Don't underestimate the central government. Cloudy Curtain is one of the many satellite planets that surround Bentheim and keeps their influence in check. Rittersberg will not allow Bentheim to take effective control over one of their critical food sources."

The Bright Republic benefited a lot from the Bentheim System. The population on its only inhabited planet swelled to ridiculous proportions, to the point where its own domestic agriculture couldn't feed their hungry mouths.

"Hopefully you're right, but you never know what might happen in the future."

With all the unrest and terrorist attacks, no one cared about improper influence. If Ves wanted to ensure his safety on the political front, then he might have to bring in outside influence on his own after all.

"Bringing in my family will still tarnish the Larkinson name." Ves concluded. "Involving the Whalers should be my nuclear option."

With nothing else to report, Calsie left after a short talk with Ves with new instructions. Since his troubles only started, Ves expressed interest in joining the Pioneers.

"I can't remain half-hearted and ignore political realities. If I don't join their circle, I'll remain vulnerable to their whims."

Despite what went on, he still had a job to do. Ves resumed his work on the redesign project. He spent a week on developing a highly adjusted armor scheme. To be frank, he could not find many opportunities to improve over the original design. There were only so many ways he could employ the HRF armor plating with his current skills.

Even with his improved skills, Ves was not able to raise any parameters without making tradeoffs. For example, if he wanted to increase the flexibility of the arms, then he could shave off some armor, thus increasing their vulnerability.

If he lost more than he gained, then he simply needed to reorient his goal. More armor? More speed? More flexibility? Not possible! Then what if Ves focused on something he hadn't paid attention to? After a few minutes of consideration, he settled on reducing the armor's complexity.

His current armor scheme consisted of many complex shapes. A flat square plate was the simplest piece of armor a fabricator could produce. What about a plate with a curve? The person who fabricated this plate had to reproduce the curve to its exact contours down to the millimeters.

Ves tried to simplify these shapes as much as he could without affecting the armor's overall performance. It worked up to a point, as Ves never took complexity into consideration before. Though the design unavoidably lost a bit of performance, he successfully reduced the failure rate of fabricating most of its parts.

This might not matter too much to Ves. He knew his design intimately and could fabricate its parts with sufficient confidence. He did it so others were able to do the same without falling flat.

"I've already untangled much of the internal structure. With this, Carlos shouldn't have too much trouble."

After finishing his draft, he subjected the schematic to a barrage of simulated tests. The reduced complexity opened vulnerabilities in his design that slightly lowered the armor's ability to withstand certain kinds of damage.

Ves easily patched most of the holes. Only some needed more attentive care as Ves had to reintroduce some complexity.

When Ves finally reached the end of the armor phase, he sighed and relaxed his concentration. "Armor is supposed to be one of my secondary specialties. It's disgraceful if I can only bring up the armor to this extent."

He was in no shape to design a mech. Ves took a day off in order to clear up his mind. He never enjoyed a full day of relaxation, so he made the most of it. While Carlos diligently mastered the last of his virtual designs, Ves played around with Lucky and browsed the news.

Much of the news revolved around the recent chaos and the steps the Merc Corps took to respond. They increased their procurement and called in some of their reserves. Everyone knew this was just the prelude.

"This is the time when mechs are selling like hot cakes. I have to push my product out as fast as possible if I don't want to miss out."

The next day, Ves returned to his work with a renewed sense of urgency. He spent the next week making adjustments to the self-contained parts. Due to his lack of expertise, he only brushed through most critical components like the engine or power reactor.

Instead, he spent an entire day on customizing the cockpit. Ves wanted to stimulate a better response to the X-Factor by setting the right mood. He changed the shape of the chair and adjusted the displays. He also carved the entire metal compartment with ancient-looking sculptures that alluded to the inspirations for the design.

If nothing else, his customers might appreciate the luxury.

With that done, he turned his attention to the mace and shield. His new Melee Weapon Optimization sub-skill allowed him to recognize that he made a lot of mistakes with the weapon. He deleted the mace and brought back the CA-1's original sword.

"I can't use the same sword shape that's optimized for compressed alloys when I'm actually using an uncompressed alloy."

Ves drastically modified the basic sword shape until he made it shorter but thicker. Without access to a compressor or better performing alloys, he had to resort to various tricks in order to make the most out of the uncompressed HRF alloy.

After finishing the sword, he touched up the shield. He introduced a moderate amount of complexity by applying some creative layers, but other than that it remained a simple rectangular slab of metal.

He tweaked the other weapon systems as last. He adjusted the contours of the missile launchers so that they meshed a little better with the shoulders.

The wrist laser cannons required a lot more work. With his newly acquired Directed Energy Weapon Optimization sub-skill, he recognized various vulnerabilities.

The laser cannons faced a major issue. The HRF's heat capacity simply couldn't compare to the original armor system. Ves had to thicken the wrists in order to prevent the wrists from overheating too quickly. It took two entire days to graft new heat channels in order to spread out the excessive heat generated from a rapid fire rate.

At the end of the phase, Ves dedicated the last hours to optimizing the Festive Cloud Generator. He reduced the size and energy consumption of the joke component in order to minimize its impact to the mech's performance. He also distinguished the vapor crest on the head head by running the distinctive pressurized mist through some lights.

"I'm finally done with this phase. All the components are in place. Up next is comprehensive testing."

After more than a month of redesigning, the revamped Marc Antony looked substantially more refined. The subsequent simulations subjected his new design in various brutal conditions. Ves extensively employed the System's models in order to find every possible fault. The holistic tests exposed various stress factors that in some cases crippled the mech.

Ves had to tread carefully from this step onwards. He encountered many instances where one fix led to another issue. Sometimes he had to revamp an entire section in order to address the root of the problem.

"Two whole weeks of simulation, and it's still not enough." He declared after an enormous amount of repetitive testing. By now he only caught minor glitches that only really came into effect in extremely rare conditions. Without a better proficiency in modeling, Ves reached the limits of what he could expose.

He had reached the end of the road. Ves not only invested eight whole weeks into designing the Marc Antony Mark II, he did it while maintaining three separate images in his mind.

Ves looked forward to the evaluation. He squirreled to his toilet and setup the Privacy Shield before bringing up the System.

"Tell me System, what's your verdict?"

[Design Evaluation: CA-1C2 Marc Antony Mark II.]

Variant name: CA-1C2 Marc Antony Mark II

Base model: Caesar Augustus CA-1

Original Manufacturer: National Aeromotives

Weight Classification: Medium-Heavy

Recommended Role: Shock Trooper

Armor: C

Carrying Capacity: D

Aesthetics: A-

Endurance: D-

Energy Efficiency: C-

Flexibility: E

Firepower: B-

Integrity: B

Mobility: C-

Spotting: C-

X-Factor: C

Deviance: 62%

Performance improvement: -23%

Cost efficiency: 62%

Overall evaluation: An acceptable variant of the Caesar Augustus. Though very lacking in its armor compared to the base model, it has achieved an admirable amount of cost savings over the original model. The second version of this variant has turned it into a commercially viable design.

[No rewards are issued when updating an existing design.]

"Yes! I did it!" He celebrated. Not much had changed at first glance, but Ves instantly recognized the differences.

The deceptively unexciting evaluation hid a lot of surprising bombs. First, he successfully raised the X-Factor's rating. From C- to C, it indicated that holding three images at once and using a mech to inspire his design did not result in catastrophic errors.

"It's still a pain to repeat this method without improving my concentration. I'm also unsure if I'm heading in the right direction. If I increase the amount of inspirations, it becomes increasingly difficult to meld different meld together. At some point the X-Factor will simply scatter."

No matter the case, Ves uncovered a lot of avenues for further research. Previously, his total lack of understanding prevented him from doing any focused research. Now, he was brimming with questions.

Integrity also received a major improvement. After all the work Ves had done to increase the Marc Antony's compartmentalization, he deserved the compliment. His design could finally tough it out in the field. Even if its armor got breached, the Mark II could still fight on, though Ves didn't recommend such a reckless act.

The third surprise came from the final two ratings. His various optimizations reduced the material needs to fabricating the mech. Most of the cost savings came from developing an improved internal structure. Reducing the complexity of the armor also helped out by reducing the frequency of producing faulty parts.

In the end, it came down to performance. The Marc Antony Mark II thoroughly eclipsed the base model except for armor. Ves still found it a pity to miss out on compressed armor.

"Still, my mech is a solid performer now. It might not compare to a genuine advanced mech, but it's still a decent bargain."

Since the costs hadn't grown at all, Ves could go in two different directions with regards to pricing.

If he raised the asking price, he could earn a lot more credits per sale.

If he kept the price the same, then he'd surely be able to generate a lot more sales for his improved mech.

Ves shook his head. "Marcella is in charge of my sales. It's largely up to her to set the price."

Now that he finished the arduous task of designing the Mark II, Ves deserved a well-earned rest. He basically took no notice of the outside world for eight straight weeks.

It was time to stretch his legs and see how everyone fared.

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Ves woke up with a slight headache the next morning. He started suffering from pain at the end of the project. He never spent so much time holding on to an inspiration, not to mention three at a time. He still suffered from the aftereffects of his exertion.

"It's worth it if I can obtain a C rating for my design." He muttered as he popped a pill inside his mouth to clear his head.

The medicine actually didn't help much, as if the pain originated from something other than a purely physical reaction. Nonetheless, Ves expected the strain to fade now that he had no need to concentrate for hours on end.

After finishing his morning ritual, he entered the workroom to see Carlos up at work. Yesterday, Ves checked in with Carlos and became satisfied with his progress. He mastered all of his 1-star and 2-star virtual designs. Only the Young Blood gave him a bit of trouble, but a success rate of 90% proved that he hadn't slacked off.

"How's your progress with the Marc Antony Mark II?"

"It's a lot better than the Mark I, that's for sure!" His employee responded with a chipper tone. "The internals are still a lot harder to assemble, but at least I don't have to be a plumber to untangle all of the messes!"

"That's good. I'll be relying on you to fabricate my silver label mechs. You should be able to thoroughly master the fabrication process by the end of the month."

"I don't have the confidence to achieve a success rate of 95%, but I should be able to get close to 90% in a month." Carlos honestly informed Ves. "There's only a couple of really tough spots that haven't been simplified. I think I'll need at least three months of practice to get over these bumps."

"That's fine. The Marc Antony Mark II is still a difficult design and you're still settling in your job. I'm making a lot of allowances for you, so you better shape up."

When Ves occasionally inspected the logs, he found out that Carlos religiously spent his evenings playing around with the designer software. As his boss, Ves naturally at his ambitious employee's work.

They were awful.

Despite having access to all of the licenses procured by Ves, Carlos treated them like a toddler playing with building blocks. All of his resulting designs looked like something out of a mad scientist's lab.

"Work hard, Carlos."

He left his minion alone and entered his own cubicle. He turned on his terminal and loaded up his finished design. The variant's pronounced shape and its intimidating black and red colors radiated an eagerness for battle. The golden frills and the dynamic vapor crest both gave the mech an aura of leadership.

In short, the Marc Antony Mark II aimed squarely at the middle segment of the mech market. Hopefully he already generated enough buzz to attract a couple of orders upon releasing the design.

Ves called Marcella now that his design was ready for sale. Her tired face popped up from the projection. "I haven't heard from you in a long time. Have you finally completed your work?"

"I finished my design."

For a moment, his mech broker thought she heard wrong. "Are you referring to your update to the Marc Antony?"

"I haven't been fooling around with any virtual designs. It's true. The Marc Antony Mark II is officially done."

"I've been dying to hear that! I already put the word out, you see. Once you release the specs, I'm sure I can make them bite."

When Ves sent over his design along with a detailed spec sheet, Marcella eagerly skimmed the documents. "Good! You've improved upon your mech's performance without raising costs. That's just what I needed!"

He could already imagine her diabolical plot. She'd pass off the Mark II as a more expensive design even if the fabrication costs hadn't budged. Ves didn't mind such plans, as a higher profit margin benefited him the most. With his current assets, he could forget about mass production.

"So what's our sales strategy?" Ves eagerly asked. "My production facilities have stayed idle for too many months. I'd like to end the standard year with some accomplishments under my belt."

"Hold your horses, Ves. While a product like yours is almost good enough to compete with the mainstream models, it's best to avoid widespread publicity for now."

"Why so? We previously introduced the Young Blood by holding an interview, and that worked alright."

"It's exactly due to your previous high profile release that we should take a gradual approach. You've already built up your name recognition. What you lack is a solid track record. If you want to present yourself as a competent mech designer, then you have to avoid the perception that you're showboating."

After a brief explanation, Ves understood his broker's arguments. Essentially, if he showed up in the news without offering something solid, the public might start treating him like a celebrity.

He could still benefit from such a status if Ves only harbored limited ambitions. Yet ever since he obtained the System, he set his sights on the pinnacle of mech design. If he wanted to be taken seriously, then he had to let his products do the talking.

"Alright, if you think it's best to keep a lower profile, then I'm fine with that. Do you have a plan?"

"I know you want to get your hands dirty, so let me ask you something. Can you fabricate a single mech without receiving an advance?"

"Right now?" Despite bleeding money lately, Ves still maintained a reserve of about twenty-eight million credits. "While I have the necessary funds, I'm not comfortable with dipping into my savings."

Marcella grinned at him. "It will be worth it. Didn't I mention that I built up some hype for your product? Let me gather a small circle of willing buyers and host a private party. You can make your case when we introduce your design."

"Is it all right for me to be present? I'm still rather young."

"Don't worry. As long as we demand outrageous prices, the market is willing to make allowances for your product. Even if the Mark II falls short in certain areas, there's nothing wrong with its price to performance ratio."

She had a point. Even as lastgen mechs started losing value, the Caesar Augustus still sold for sixty million credits. As for Ves, he could fabricate a single Mark II for eighteen million credits. That was pretty good for a variant that only performed 23% worse than its overpriced base model.

"We can auction off your first production as a limited edition model. We can build up a waiting list if we label the next couple of mechs as exclusive collector's edition models. The collectors will love it!"

"I'm not a fan of catering to this kind of crowd." Ves quickly replied. He detested those who treated mech as toys instead of war machines. "Let's just keep it simple. There's a reason why I've only established three different labels. I don't want to muddle up my catalog."

While he trusted Marcella to make the right choices, she always aimed to maximize profits. This time, Ves reined her in because he did not wish to go overboard. He also bowed out of the party.

"Are you sure you don't want to be present? Your presence will add a face to your design. Even if you fail to win them over this time, you can still cultivate some connections that might help you out in the long run."

"I'm not a marketing expert like you. My presence won't add too much to your party."

As Ves made it clear he disliked attending these sort of functions, Marcella agreed to host the party on her own as soon as Ves shipped his first mech."

After ending the call, he stretched his fingers and rubbed his head. "My headache is still lingering. Hopefully it will be gone by the time I start fabricating the first Mark II."

Ves reluctantly ordered a batch of materials from the MTA's open market for around 18 million credits. He noticed that he paid a little more this time for the same amount of goods.

"Prices have risen."

It made sense. Everyone smelled a war, so the manufacturers started running their production lines around the clock. The mech industry devoured more resources than before. This cut into the excess supply that the mining corporations routinely dumped in the open market.

The big manufacturers benefited from long-term supply contracts, so they had nothing to worry about. Only the little guys like Ves who had to resort to paying the full market price started feeling the pinch.

"If prices rise by a third, I won't be able to make a profit."

The upward trend in prices doused his enthusiasm. Ves suddenly realized his business was dangerously exposed to every fluctuation in the resource market.

"It's not worth it to engage in options right now. When my business grows, I'll expand my overhead and hire a financial wizard."

Right now, Ves wanted to fulfill a couple of important goals before the end of the standard year. The Larkinsons always returned to their ancestral home in Rittersberg to celebrate the new year.

Of course, most of the Larkinsons who served in the military were unable to ask for leave in these tumultuous times. Ves expected this year's gathering to be a more subdued affair.

"It will be good if I can prove my worth. Grandfather and the other elders don't care about virtual mechs."

The older generation still looked down on Ves. They disapproved of his foray into the highly competitive mech industry. None of them lent him a hand when he founded his mech workshop. Only his father believed in his dream.

"I don't blame the old goats. While I've benefited a lot from my father's help at the start, I only got to this point through my own hard work. I'm not like those other designers who only managed to stay afloat with outside money."

This was a particular point of pride for Ves. As long as he sold a couple more mechs, he could show off his substantial cash flow to his relatives and earn their respect.

"Let's start practicing."

Ves logged into his designer account in Iron Spirit and entered its virtual workshop. In the three days it took the transports to deliver his latest order of materials to his backyard, he attempted to complete a virtual copy of his new design.

The virtual workshop's excellent facilities substantially increased his precision. His increased proficiency in both the 3D printer and assembly system also boosted his capabilities. Both factors insured he created a flawless mech in less than two days.

Once he received his shipments, he sought to duplicate his success in the real universe. He slowed down his pace and carefully double-checked his actions due to using inferior second-hand machines. Ves grew increasingly frustrated at being shackled by his outdated 3D printer and assembler.

"If I successfully reconstruct the Dortmund, then I won't have to worry about replacing it for a very long time. Good assembly systems are a lot cheaper to buy, though ones that can match a Dortmund in quality will still cost more than a billion credits."

Unlike an industrial printer, an assembly system never lost its value over time if properly maintained. They merely required occasional firmware updates in order to keep up with the latest techniques. More expensive assemblers worked faster and more precise. Heavy mechs required extremely robust assemblers in order to lift its various parts in place.

In any case, Ves encountered plenty of tight spots but he resolved without issue. He worked as conservative as possible and took five days to complete the mech. The Mark II's revamped internal architecture allowed Ves to keep up his pace as he purposely eliminated the knots that confounded him in the previous version.

The fabrication process ended when the assembler finished applying coating to the entire frame. Ves looked up at his creation while holding Lucky and smiled.

"It's almost perfect. I only need to climb inside the cockpit to install a golden label and a gem."

Still, Ves had the feeling that his model lacked something essential. Something that stamped the machine as his own personal creation. When he compared his freshly fabricated mech to other models, he quickly realized what it lacked.

It was time for him to to design a logo for his brand.

Ves looked down at Lucky and scratched his head. "What do you say about lending your likeness to my logo?"

The mechanical cat meowed, more in response to his scratches than his question.

"I'll be sure to stylize the symbol. I don't know if your product series actually exists in the galaxy. The last thing I want is to step on someone's copyright."

Frankly, Ves hardly believed another copy of Lucky existed in the galaxy. His Gem Excretion skill alone defied his understanding of the universe.

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In the end, Ves took a few hours to draft his logo. While his artwork might not satisfy any critics, it looked sufficiently distinct. It looked like a curling bronze cat resting atop a cartoonish rainbow cloud. Ves had to admit the design lacked the traditional kind of maturity that most serious arms manufacturers favored.

"I hope you don't mind lending your likeness to my brand."

Lucky continued to paw at the projection of his finished work.

He uploaded the design to the assembler system and allowed it to paint over his newly designed logo to the mech's left chest. Ves took a major step in his career now that he implemented a logo.

As the coating finally set, Ves stepped on a platform that hovered up to the cockpit. He entered its luxurious interior and sat down on the seat. He studied the reliefs he carved to the sides and at the top. If anyone paid close attention, then they'd realize that they told three separate stories.

Ves took a deep breath. "It smells good here. Nothing beats the smell of a newborn mech."

Once he got over his infatuation, Ves installed the final parts of his design. He first attached the golden plate to the underside of the central console.

CA-1C2 MARC ANTONY MARK II

DESIGNED SOLELY BY VES LARKINSON

HAND-FABRICATED SOLELY BY VES LARKINSON

MADE IN THE BRIGHT REPUBLIC

PRODUCTION #1

The plate looked nearly identical to the one inside Captain Caruther's mech. This was his first do-over of a design after fabricating only two copies. Ves found it a sad state of affairs to update a design after achieving so few sales.

"The Mark I is officially history now. How times fly."

He installed one of Lucky's gem before he exited the cockpit. Before he set it in its place, he first retrieved his System-bought Anonymizer Stamp. After applying the exclusive ink, he carefully stamped a brilliant piece of honey-like citrine.

In order to make sure the stamp actually did what the System claimed, he took out his handheld multiscanner. After carefully subjecting the gem to a host of scans, the machine stubbornly insisted that Ves held nothing but a shiny rock.

"Huh. It works. As expected of the System."

The Mech Designer System might be greedy and capricious, but it never lied. Ves focused on the citrine, and after a few seconds of focusing, the description showed up in his view.

[Citrine of Warmth]

Increases the safe heat capacity of a mech by 2% when installed.

Ves retrieved the gem a couple of weeks ago. The yellow gem was part of Lucky's post-transformation droppings. His recent upgrade and the premium minerals he enjoyed both caused the quality of his gems to quadruple.

After scanning his mech to make sure he hadn't missed any faults, Ves arranged it to be shipped. First, he sent it to the MTA to be certified. Once they confirmed that Ves hadn't screwed up, the mech would be sent to a heavy-duty transport ship to be brought to Bentheim.

As Ves watched a heavy shuttle take off from his workshop, he let out a breath. "Five days is a little long to fabricate a single mech. If I want to be efficient, I should be able to complete a mech in three days."

Due to the learning curve, the production process always started off slow and unsteady. Once Ves got used to the design and prepared responses to the most common problems, he could easily fabricate the Mark II as fast as he had done in the game.

He hoped to reach that point by the time he publically announced the design. For now, Ves intended to make inroads into another project. He entered his secure storage and approached the boxes of salvaged Dortmund printer parts.

Lucky followed him inside and curiously pawed at the content of the boxes. Ves wasn't worried the cat would do something naughty. An open container of minerals rested on the other side of the room. Once the cat sated his curiosity, he'd sprint over to his favorite box of food and start to nibble on some chunks.

"I've been very hasty in collecting all of parts. I should sort them out and check for lingering damage."

Previously, Ves only scanned the broken Dortmund and the strewn out parts in a superficial manner. Now that he had access to his entire workshop, he intended to use a full-sized scanner from his assembly system. A small host of lifting bots opened up the boxes and spread out the parts onto the floor of the spacious storage room.

After cataloging every piece of alloy or composite, the bots brought the parts to the assembly system. There, the inbuilt scanning system thoroughly mapped the objects as they went by and alerted Ves to any imperfections.

Only 1 in 500 parts showed signs of irregularities. Ves wrote off the suspicious parts without hesitation. He put them into a mid-sized container and send them to a recycling facility to be broken down to their base components.

Since he had to remake the components, he might as well use the materials he had on hand. Some of the exotics incorporated in the sophisticated machine could not even be found in the open market.

Still, Ves did not entirely trust his scanners. They worked fine when measuring the exterior but some materials were so dense that the scanners failed to penetrate past a couple of millimeters.

Besides borrowing the MTA's state-of-the-art machines, Ves decided to use something else. He carefully retrieved an archaic looking lantern from a locked compartment. He received the mystical object from some random draw rewarded by the System. He inspected it carefully.

[Lantern of Imperfection]

Light the lantern and shine it against a mech or component to reveal structural flaws. The revealed flaws are only visible to the holder of the lantern. The lamp contains enough oil to burn for five hours.

"System, will the lantern work if I shine it on something other than a mech?"

[The Lantern of Imperfection is meant to uncover flaws that hinder the performance of mechs. Any component that is not directly related to a mech will not be illuminated by the lantern's light.]

"How does the lantern judge whether a component is 'directly related' to mechs? A 3D printer is responsible for fabricating models. Is that direct enough?"

[Only components that are part of an existing design are eligible in the perspective of the Lantern of Imperfection.]

Ves did not let the System's stubbornness sway him from using the lantern. He noted that the system phrased the lantern's rule in a fairly broad manner. Engineers like him often learned to bend seemingly immutable rules to their advantage.

"As long as I incorporate the printer parts into a mech design, the lantern will consider them eligible, right?"

"Hahahaha! I'm right!" He laughed. "If it's merely programmed to treat components in this fashion, then I'll just slap something together."

The lantern's distinction didn't make any sense in the first place. An artificial distinction between mech and non-mech components could only have been imposed from an external force. Since the lantern was not a living object, Ves easily figured out a way to exploit its lack of cunning.

Once the assembler system finished scanning and sorting all of the parts, Ves imported the detailed data into his designer software.

"Time to design the ugliest mech in the galaxy."

He suspected that only viable design played a role when deciding to illuminate a component. This meant that Ves had to put some effort into making sure his Frankenstein monster could actually walk and shoot.

"The Dortmund weighs as much as two heavy mechs. It will take a lot of effort keeping such a massive monstrosity on its feet."

Replacing the feet with wheels or treads didn't work, as Ves had to stick to the definition of a mech. Since he didn't have to actually fabricate the mech, Ves choose to start from the default Caesar Augustus frame since it used the best materials.

First, he stripped the limbs and expanded the torso. He added a crude hollow section to the underside and filled it up with redundant power reactors and engines. He then duplicated the default legs by about a dozen times before adding them to the expanded portion. It took a few hours to rig the artificial muscles that transferred motive power from the engines to the legs.

The mech so far looked like an oversized centaur/spider hybrid with a wheelbarrow-like hollow at its rear. He started to build an elaborate lattice around the mech and gradually started to attach the lighter Dortmund parts to them. They hung from the lattices like leaves on a tree.

Once Ves used up all of the small-scale parts, he started to using up the heavier components. He welded them together and stacked them up inside the hollow he left out. It made the monster mech look like an old-fashioned truck with legs.

To top off his mech, he added a single laser cannon to a random surface. He quickly finalized the design and handed it over to the System.

"Here's my latest design. I call it the Piece of Junk on Twelve Legs."

[Design Evaluation: Piece of Junk on Twelve Legs]

Model name: Piece of Junk on Twelve Legs

Original Manufacturer: Ves Larkinson

Weight Classification: Ultra-heavy

Recommended Role: Target Practice

Armor: F-

Carrying Capacity: A

Aesthetics: F-

Endurance: F-

Energy Efficiency: F-

Flexibility: F-

Firepower: F

Integrity: F-

Mobility: F-

Spotting: F-

X-Factor: F

Cost efficiency: F-

Project involvement: 100%

Original component composition: 3%

Overall evaluation: The Piece of Junk on Twelve Legs barely meets the definition of a mech. This walking disaster fails in every possible role except for holding up its own prodigious weight.

[You have received no Design Points for failing to design a practical mech.]

The System must have been having a seizure when it marked his design. Ves had to suppress his grin. The Piece of Junk could barely move, let alone stand in place without collapsing in on itself. Still, as long as it held up for a minute, he succeeded in making a viable mech.

Ves returned to the sorted pile of printer parts and brought out the lantern. After carefully igniting the wick, the lantern released a brilliant golden glow that nearly blinded him for a moment.

The brightness dimmed into a gentle glow. Whenever the orange light encountered one of the components laying on the ground, it flared and sought to sink in deep. Ves merely held up the lantern and waited for something to happen.

He spotted a couple of signs ten minutes later. Part of a large alloy sheet started glowing red. They looked like tiny hairline fractures. Their presence proved that he successfully fooled the lantern's programming.

"This is great!"

With the help of the lantern, Ves took out any remaining parts that glowed suspiciously. If he neglected the lantern, he might have gone ahead and pieced together a Dortmund that could one day collapse in a heap of junk. He practically saved his own hide with this precautionary move.

In the end, Ves had to recycle around 1 in 200 parts. This was much more than he expected. The prevalence of microfractures and other faults forced him to halt his current schedule. He wanted to make some headway in the reconstruction project before he started fulfilling orders for the Marc II, but now it appeared he underestimated the required steps.

"I can replace most of the parts at home, but these high-grade processors are a different matter. Luckily, I picked up plenty of spares."

Out of the many sets of chips, Ves found only a couple of them still remained pristine. While he gathered an entire set of functional chips, their security measures probably blocked them from establishing a connection with each other. Their serial numbers and individual settings didn't match.

"I'll have to find someone who can hack these chips." He concluded. Due to the questionable legality of his current project, he couldn't just walk into the MTA or something. Besides resorting to the black market, Ves could only think of the Clifford Society to ask for help.

"I don't have a lot of merits left." He winced. "I might need to complete a short mission before I can afford a hacker."

Before that, he also needed to clean house. The latest shenanigans from the Greens and the White Doves prompted Ves to request a meeting with the Pioneers. Calsie recently sent him a message that she successfully arranged a meeting with an important member of the Pioneers.

"Looks like I'll be heading to downtown Freslin tomorrow. Do you want to come with me Lucky?"

The gem cat continued to munch on his crunchy dinner.

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Ves took a seat at table in an upscale teahouse. The urban noise of downtown Freslin made its way through the open window by his side. Lucky lazily sat down on the windowsill, staring out at the harmless birds and critters darting about between the neatly planted trees.

Minutes later, Calsie climbed the stairs of the oriental establishment. This time she brought a guest with her. The older gentlemen by her side looked like a bureaucrat that never transitioned into the upper ranks. He also appeared to be rather frazzled.

"Mr. Larkinson, it's good to finally meet you." The old man greeted Ves while offering his hand. "The name's Linden Royce. I'm the Deputy Director of Stakeholder Relations of the Initiative for Pioneering."

Mr. Royce basically schmoozed with every businessman or official who expressed interest in the Pioneers. Though Ves preferred to speak with his boss, beggars couldn't be choosers.

"You can call me Ves."

"That's fine, just call me Linden."

"Before we get to business, let's order some tea, shall we?"

Ves ordered a pot of fragrant chamomile tea. It was his mother's favorite tea. The smell of it brought happy memories of a simpler time to his mind. A fleeting smile appeared on his face before a bump from Lucky brought him back to the present.

"That's a remarkable looking cat you've got there. Did you obtain it from the Carnegie Group?"

"No, I had him for a while. Lucky here is an exclusive creation from an inventor from the New Rubarth Empire.."

In truth, Ves had no idea where the gem cat originally emerged. The young man merely name-dropped the notorious first-rate superstate in order to impress the deputy director. While Linden possessed enough self-control to keep his expression polite, a discrete bump from Lucky surreptitiously informed Ves of the man's excitement.

After a minute of enjoying their tea, they finally decided to talk shop.

"I've been hearing a lot about you from Calsie lately." Linden gestured at the young woman sitting next to Ves. "She informed me that you have expressed interest in forging a closer relationship with the Initiative for Pioneering. While we welcome each and every citizen from Cloudy Curtain, I'd like to hear your own motivations for seeking us out."

Ves already prepared an answer. "My mech business is about to enter a rapid growth trajectory. The amount of credits and publicity that my business is about to generate can lead to an irrational response. I recently realized the importance of paying attention to politics. Compared to the hostile attitudes of the White Doves and the Greens, the Pioneers are the only people in town that doesn't treat businessmen like scum."

"I understand where you are coming from, Ves. While Cloudy Curtain might appear to be a sleepy planet where nothing happens, the truth is that the Greens and White Doves are waging a daily war against the people. They are constantly advancing their heartless agendas in the Planetary Assembly."

"They have made their opinions of me very clear. While they have laid low for now, I don't doubt they are cooking something up to make it impossible for me to run my business in my home planet."

Linden nodded and poured another cup of chamomile tea from the pot. "There are signs that the their coalition is about to advance a tax reform bill in the Assembly in order to address the persistent budget deficits. From what we've heard, the bill is proposing to raise taxes on arms manufacturing and heavy industry to up to 50%."

"What?!" Ves almost spilled his tea. "Fifty percent is even higher than Bentheim's rate! The tax hikes won't fill up the holes in the annual budget at all. Instead, it will drive away every entrepreneur with a working brain. Without a healthy presence of business and commerce, Cloudy Curtain will slide further into backwardness."

"For a political neophyte, you are very astute in your predictions."

Ves couldn't help that his increased intelligence dredged up what he learned in business class. "Anyone can figure out the situation if they followed the news. Even if our planet's development doesn't matter to me, the tax rates still affect my business directly. It's impossible for me to make a living with such a murderous tax rate hanging over my head!"

Linden expressed his sympathies for Ves and elaborated on his own thoughts. "Our planet has been settled for several hundred years, but what have we done since then? Our population has remained stagnant at only twenty million while vast swathes of land remain unused."

"I'm familiar with the facts. Our population growth has remained stagnant because our best and brightest always emigrate to better pastures."

After a brief discussion about the backwardness of their home planet, Linden finally cut to the chase.

"It is great to hear your thoughts. We truly think alike." The old man complimented before adopting a stern face. "Unfortunately, due to political concerns, it is not convenient for us to accept you into our fold."

The refusal surprised Ves. After all, they had much in common. "Is there a problem?"

"There is. We've recently came across evidence that you have been keeping company with a rather unsavory element in our society."

"Walter's Whalers."

"Exactly." This time, Linden's expression changed into a frown. "Perhaps you are not aware of the customs. That can be forgiven. Nevertheless, you should know that interacting with such gangs will only bring you momentary benefits. The Whalers will inevitably fall and be displaced by another gang. Your fate as a collaborator might also not be good."

"It is not your business to judge my relationship with the Whalers. They are the only power on this planet besides the MTA with a substantial mech force. As a mech designer and mech manufacturer, it is a given that we enter a mutually beneficial relationship."

Walter's Whalers might be uncouth bastards, but they treated Ves with respect.

"Mr. Larkinson, I believe you are severely underestimating the risks involved with associating with the Whalers. Your opponents are aware of your relations and are afraid that you will take advantage of it. In fact, the Greens and the White Doves have already made some preparations if the situation devolves into open conflict."

"That is quite a warning you gave me." Ves replied as he tried to figure out the deputy director's goal. "It is a pity that my bond with the Whalers is solid. It's impossible for me to break my relations with them, especially since they are the only friends I have who I can trust to lend a hand if my workshop is in danger."

The worth of a mech workshop on their home planet trumped all other considerations. A genuine mech designer offered a lot of possible services to the Whalers, such as customizing their mechs or designing custom ones that fit their personal needs.

Eventually, Linden backed down from his insistence and instead retrieved a secure data pad from his suit. He turned it on and placed it on the table next to the tea pot.

"What's this?" Ves asked as he grabbed the pad and scrolled through the contents. From what he saw, the pad contained a lot of documents and survey data of a couple of remote farms situated near the equator of the planet.

Linden clasped his hands and smirked. "Did you know that the Greens and the White Doves are the inheritors of the original pacifists who colonized our planet? They used to own the majority shares of the colony back when it was still a private business venture. They chose to settle on this planet because it offers the ideal environment to cultivate their own brand of luxury crops."

"So they're the ones behind the massive cloud rice farms? No wonder the Planetary Assembly favors agriculture so much. The Greens and the Doves are only interested in lining their own pockets."

One of the most famous products Cloudy Curtain developed was a genetically modified type of highly nutritious rice. The seeds originated from the New Rubarth Empire, and ever since the founders of the Bright Republic settled in the Komodo Star Sector, they tried and failed to cultivate this notoriously sensitive crop.

Only after another round of modification could the crops be tentatively grown in Cloudy Curtain's temperate and stable climate. The two consortiums that grew and sold the puffy, delicious and nutritious rice branded it as cloud rice. It was the planet's number one export, eclipsing many other specialty crops.

When Ves stumbled upon a giant hole in the survey data, he stopped. "Is there something special in the Colmes region?"

"The Raleigh Consortium and the Luvon Consortium are the sole farming concerns with the rights to cultivate cloud rice. The Raleighs favor the Greens while the Luvons are funding the White Doves. They used to be one big family before they suddenly split a mere decade after settling the planet."

"You're not answering my question." Ves complained. "What does this have to do with the survey data and the Colmes region?"

"I am trying to provide you with some essential context, my friend, but very well, let's skip the history lesson. All you need to know is that despite their common roots, the Raleighs and Luvons are also rivals who are locked in a subtle struggle for dominance."

"So you could say that the Consortiums and the groups that they are backing are frenemies."

"That is quite an apt description." Linden nodded. "Thus, you can imagine our surprise when we found out that the company that operates in the restricted Colmes region is actually a joint venture between the two Consortiums."

That raised an eyebrow from Ves. For the two political and economic rivals to cooperate on a farming venture of all things indicated that the region hid something important.

Ves looked at the earliest historical survey maps and noted that the Colmes region centered around a dormant volcano. The area around this volcano must be an exceptionally fertile plot of land.

"So what are you getting at?"

"Don't you see? The Colmes region is of vital importance to the two Consortiums. It might very well be the reason why their ancestors colonized this planet in the first place."

The news that the original pacifists might have settled on a barren planet like Cloudy Curtain due to a single fertile plot roused his interest. The farming Consortiums must be cultivating something much more valuable than cloud rice.

"This is interesting and all, but why are you telling me this? I am merely a mech designer. The farming sector has nothing to do with me."

"Perhaps you are correct, but consider the situation. Walter's Whalers routinely extort the local businesses. They even claim a cut from the incredible profitable export cloud rice. What do you suppose might happen if some of their mechs decided to stroll into the Colmes region?"

Lucky stopped the swish of his tail and stared at Linden with a focused intensity. Ves quickly stroked his back in order to forestall any aggression.

"Mr. Royce, you've given me a very dangerous suggestion. Is there some reason why you've mentioned it to me instead of acting on your own intelligence?"

The deputy director shrugged. "What can I say? The Pioneers are not an armed gang of thugs. We don't have the habit of acting like a bunch of hooligans with mechs. More importantly, the Whalers are a remarkably cohesive group. Say what you will about Mr. Walter, but he has a natural talent for leadership. It is impossible for any of us to engage in a dialog with their cadre due to their disdain for politicians."

"You could leave an anonymous tip."

"They might not act on the information if it comes from a suspicious source."

Ves rapped his fingers against the table and considered the situation. The Pioneers refused to let him join their little club due to his undeniable connections to a mercenary gang. Then they passed him a request to leverage those same connections to deliver a punch to the most important supporters of their political rivals.

Ves didn't need Lucky to tell him that the deputy director reeked of hypocrisy. "I'm certain an incident will benefit the Pioneers."

Linden gave him a smile. "What's good for the Pioneers will also be shared to allies such as you. When the Greens and the White Doves are thrown in disarray, we can forestall the pending tax reform bill that's currently under consideration."

"What if nothing happens at the Colmes region? Will you let the bill go through?"

"We can delay the procedures, but we can't prevent them from passing the bill. If the Greens and the White Doves retain their political momentum, then our Assemblymen have no choice but to compromise with the ruling coalition. I imagine they will bargain their support for the bill if they can obtain an exemption for our key businesses."

Naturally, the Pioneers would obviously leave out his mech workshop in that list. "Let me think about it. A delicate matter like this should not be decided over a cup of tea. Can I keep this data pad?"

"Feel free to keep it or show it around to your friends." Linden waved his hand and stood up. "I'm certain that it will make for interesting reading to anyone with an interest in farming."

The deputy director chuckled as he left the teahouse.

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Ves turned his gaze towards Calsie, who kept her mouth shut throughout the entire conversation.

"I did not expect this meeting to turn out this way."

"Sorry, Ves! I really thought they'd welcome you with open arms."

"It's not your fault. The Pioneers have a point. It's too unseemly to approach the Pioneers when I'm already cozying up to Walter's Whalers."

If he had to make a choice, then he'd pick the thugs with mechs over politicians who schemed against their own mothers. The conversation with Linden Royce thoroughly disillusioned Ves to politics.

"What do you suggest I do?"

To her credit, Calsie did not immediately shill for the Pioneers. "No matter what you decide, you should assume that any incidents will be traced back to you. It's not a good idea to antagonize any influence."

That was nice of her to say, but Ves couldn't afford to sit around and let the tax reform bill be signed into law. If the Pioneers treated him with sincerity, then Ves did not mind inducing Dietrich and his friends to poke around the Colmes region. Instead, Director Linden came to him with a false mask and a vague offer of reciprocity that may not even be fulfilled.

"What do you think about the deputy director, Lucky? Is he a good person?"

The gem cat hissed and kept his posture low. After Lucky leveled up, his intelligence received a substantial boost. Ves found out that Lucky became very proficient in reading other people's body language. Even if the cat did not understand what people said, Lucky could still determine whether a person lied.

According to Lucky's current posture, Director Linden harbored suspicious intentions. Ves tried to figure out what the Pioneers really wanted.

The Colmes region farms might hide something incredible, of that Ves did not doubt. Yet what could they gain if another supercrop got exposed?

If Pioneers only wanted to use him, then Ves could imagine the sequence of events. Not only would an incident expose the Consortium's secret project, it could also spark an open conflict between the ruling coalition and the gang.

Such a fight might not be as one-sided as everyone thought. As the descendents of the original settlers, the Raleighs and Luvons must have spent a fortune entrenching their strategic assets.

No matter who won, only the Pioneers stood ready to receive the benefits.

Ves closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind. The last thing he needed was to make an impulsive decision.

First, he established his goal. "I want to operate my business without excessive interference from bureaucrats and politicians who have a bone to pick with me."

The Greens and the White Doves were obviously hostile to him. The Pioneers could best be described as a neutral bystander who is looking to pick up a bargain. They obviously had no intention of giving Ves a hand without getting something in return.

Why did he have to enter this murky swamp and be forced to make deals with politicians? Calsie, who still sat silently by his side, spoke up at that moment.

"Mr. Larkinson, the problem that you are facing is coming from two fronts. First, your presence is clashing against the domestic interests of the White Doves and to a lesser extent the Greens. Perhaps on a good day the Greens can be bought off, but the Doves are intrinsically opposed to you."

"Yes, I know that."

"Then you should be aware that they normally don't move so quick with trying to push a tax reform bill through the Assembly. What you should really be focusing on is trying to stop the source of the latest initiatives."

Ves buried his face in one of his hands. "You mean the power behind the scenes. If it's a power from the Coalition, then it's a group I can touch."

"Perhaps not alone, but don't you have a big shot at Leemar behind your back? Why don't you ring her up and ask her to take care of whoever is trying to ruin your day?"

His political advisor had a point. He obviously couldn't fight back against the foreign influence. As long as they remained, they could instigate many possible groups to turn against him. He wouldn't put it past them to make a deal with the Pioneers.

Ves hated the thought of giving up and crying to Horatio for help. When he stayed at Leemar, Ves got the impression that they prized independence. Even if the deck was stacked against him, a mech designer should always be resourceful enough to find a solution on his own.

He failed. Despite his recent fame, his actual power amounted next to nothing. If Ves still happened to be a regular mech designer without any backing, his enemies might have already wiped him out.

"Calsie."

"Yes?"

"Please prepare all the evidence you've gathered about the foreign influence that is meddling behind the scenes. It doesn't matter if you've only heard rumors, just include all of them in a single report. Be as accurate as possible and don't try to embellish the information in any way. Can you do that for me?"

"Ah, no problem sir. I'll get right to it once I return to my apartment."

The girl quickly left the teahouse while Ves finished his last cup of tea. He stroked Lucky's back as he lamented his helplessness in the face of absolute power. Ves needed to find a way to close the power gap.

"In the end, I'm still too young. I've only started designing mechs a half year ago. That's not enough time for me to accumulate a lot of wealth and influence."

The Mech Designer System fueled his perverse growth. This allowed him to skip many inconveniences such as procuring his starting production licences. The downside to this was that he lacked the time to build up a solid network of friends and backers who he could trust.

He shook his head. "It's out of my hands now."

Ves left the teahouse and brought Lucky back to his workshop. After a day of waiting, Calsie sent him a collection of files that detailed her investigation. He took the files and logged into the Clifford Society's virtual portal.

He didn't bother descending down to the mountain range. Instead, he placed a call to Horatio and asked if he could come to the Society for a talk.

Master Olson's assistant appeared in front of Ves in a flash. "Good day Ves. From your tone, you seem to be in a spot of trouble. Tell me what is bothering you."

"It's like this." He started to explain his circumstances while handing over Calsie's report. Ves made sure to mention that while he did not manage to obtain any solid proof, the instigators likely possessed more power than he could handle by himself.

Horatio pursed his lips and gave Ves a measuring look. "It will take some time to corroborate your findings. I can tell you right now that we will step in if it turns out someone from the Coalition is targeting you. There are certain rules that Coalition partners have to abide to. It's bad news for everyone if someone breaks the rules."

"Maybe the instigators are hoping they can take advantage of the galaxy-wide unrest."

"That is a foolish decision. Our resources aren't strained to the point where we can neglect the safety of our fellow mech designers. Don't forget that you have been chosen by Carmin to inherit some of her legacy."

After Horatio finished giving him some assurances, he disappeared in a wink. Ves stretched his arms and looked down upon the mountain range like a god. The illusion of looking down upon the material world buoyed his spirits a little.

"One day, I will float among the clouds and own all that is within my grasp."

He exited the Society and resumed tinkering with the Dortmund parts. He carefully cleaned and polished some of the more worn out parts and brought them to their prime condition. Once the recyclers sent back the salvaged materials, Ves could proceed to supplement the missing parts.

"The processors are still a huge problem. I'm not a cyber specialist. Unless I divert lots of DP into bringing up my cyber skills, I'll have to hire someone else to do the job."

Three days later, Horatio called him on his comm. After putting up his Privacy Shield, he accepted the call.

"You were correct to bring this matter to our attention." Horatio started, and sent him back some files that detailed their own findings. "The Gauge Dynasty recklessly extended their reach within our sphere of influence. The haste in their actions made it obvious that it was not a sanctioned operation."

Ves skimmed over the documents and recognized the most prominent name. "I knew it! That bastard Carter never let me out of his sights!"

He remembered how the most dominant mech designer in the entire competition lost in a humiliating fashion. Carter's assigned pilot completely dominated Lovejoy's swordsman mech with a ridiculous flying heavy mech. Instead of going for the kill, the enemy pilot showed off, leaving his mech open to a desperate sword throw that eventually brought the lumbering machine down.

"There's no cause for worry, Ves. Carmin has personally rebuked the Dynasty and forced them to withdraw their agents in your Republic. Our own agents are still keeping watch on you. A Master has to maintain their dignity. So long as you remain Carmin's apprentice, we will not allow her enemies to lay a hand on you."

Ves took note of Horatio's careful wording. "So you won't be taken care of my domestic opposition then. I'm still in a pickle even if you've put the wind out of the sails."

"A mech designer who remains vulnerable to the whims of others is not worth investing in. Prove your own value by showing us your resilience."

"What if I don't make it?"

"You are hardly facing a life-threatening crisis. No one has forced you to base your startup on a rural planet with a government that is hostile to arms manufacturing. At worst, they'll just drive you away. Isn't there a nearby port system with a healthy mech industry? Perhaps you should consider moving early."

The discussion ended after Horatio finished admonishing Ves. His senior did not hold back in questioning the junior's decisions. Ves had to admit that Horatio had a point. He basically disrupted Cloudy Curtain's status quo by starting up a mech business on a peaceful planet. That didn't mean that Ves was ready to throw in the towel.

"Bentheim is too much of a snake pit. Without any reliable backing, all the gangs, cartels and ruthless competitors will gobble me up. At least I have Dietrich will pick up my calls if I remain on this planet."

Though Ves appreciated Horatio's help, he still believed he made the right choices. He always dreamed about growing his business into a major mech manufacturer from the home planet of his father.

After going through Horatio's intelligence documents, Ves picked a couple of pages and sent them on to Calsie. He followed up with a short message telling her to come up with a plan to stop the tax reform bill from passing in the Assembly. Hopefully she could come up with something smarter than taking Director Royce's offer of instigating an incident at the mysterious Colmes region.

"Even if the Consortiums are cooking something up, it's none of my business."

He should really be focusing on his upcoming projects. Ves expected a call from Marcella any time now. In the meantime, he resumed polishing the Dortmund parts.

If Ves wanted to obtain more power, then he had to expand his capabilities. Restoring an industrial printer to full readiness vastly increased his production scale. If he supplemented his expansion with a compressor and a CTM, he'd be able to run two production lines around the clock.

"The money will really start rolling in if I can get to that point."

That was difficult. Not only did he have to procure a couple of expensive machines, he also had to expand his workforce and train another fabricator. Not to mention that he relied on Marcella to keep the orders coming.

"The Mark II I fabricated last week should already be unveiled today." Ves recalled as he looked at the calendar. "I wonder how her private gathering will go."

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Colonel Ares Huntington was an old friend of Marcella Bollinger. They came from the same crowd, and while a war wound forcibly put an end to her piloting career, Ares hung on for twenty more years until his age caught up. Nowadays he fought behind a desk.

"You've got them wrapped around your finger." Ares casually spoke to Marcella.

They both stood on a ramp overlooking an empty training ground. A handful of men waited their turn to pilot the Marc Antony Mark II. A couple of other guests impatiently hopped in the simulator pods in order to experience the virtual version of the novel mech.

It couldn't be helped. The first unveiling of the Mark II proceeded in a dramatic fashion as Marcella brought the guests inside a darkened stable and slowly revealed the mech. Its iconic red vapor crest lighted up first. Other lights revealed its masculine contours which included its heavy shield and its shoulder launchers.

Marcella knew her crowd. The Mark II explicitly appealed to the primal part of a human male. Most of her guests were men. The only women present either specialized in piloting knights or represented wealthy individuals who couldn't come in person.

"Ves has come a long way." Marcella said to her old friend. "I always knew the Larkinson family had a talent with mechs. Even if Ves lacked the aptitude, the love for mechs is buried within his bones."

Ares snorted at Marcella's fawning tone. "Don't pretend you spotted his talent back then. The Larkinson name is overrated. You merely took him on as a client because he got bamboozled into signing that ridiculous ten-year contract."

"Heh, you're only grumbling because Ark Larkinson stole your posting. Now he's stationed at the border to the Vesians while you are stuck reading data pads in Bentheim."

"He's too young to command an entire base! I don't care if he's been promoted to colonel, he doesn't have the experience to lead the vanguard!"

The incident still rankled Ares. He possessed all the right qualifications to be stationed at an important conflict zone, but some golden boy a dozen years short his age snatched his promised posting. Technically, Ares received a higher-ranking posting, but for a veteran of the previous Bright-Vesia War it might as well be death by torture.

Marcella shook her head while rubbing her camouflaged artificial limbs. "You're always chomping at the bit to smash their noses. I bet HQ passed you on because you're a little too eager to start the war early."

"I'm a professional! I don't let my personal feelings get in the way of duty."

The argument went nowhere so Marcella shut her mouth. Instead, both of them watched the lumbering Mark II navigate the obstacle course and defeat a handful of flimsy projections of mechs.

"So what do you think about little Vessie's latest work?"

The colonel scratched his white-bearded chin as he evaluated the performance of the mech. "There's something funny about this model. I can't quite tell what's going on. Whatever it is, it made your guests turn into instant fans."

The mech broker cleverly prefaced the first ten minutes of the gathering with teases and snippets of simulated combat footage. They all highlighted the as-of-yet unannounced mech in its best light. The heavy tower shield, the versatile missile launchers, the deadly short-ranged laser cannons, they all combined to present an image of indomitability in the face of overwhelming forces.

Of course, Marcella conveniently left out the Mark II's less than flattering features, such as its mass production quality armor system and its flash-in-the-pan endurance.

"If you want to know what's special about the Mark II, then go watch the duels over there."

The projections that showed the virtual Mark II's in action conveyed every duel and battle scenario in visceral detail.

At one side, a pair of Mark II's stood side-by-side leading the charge against an enemy fortified position. The hybrid knights used their heavy shields as disposable cover, trading protection for distance. Their shoulder launchers occasionally fired missiles that exploded in a cloud of smoke and sensor-blocking particles.

Another projection displayed a tense and even duel. A blue-striped Mark II tried to run circles around a green-striped Mark II and fired back with its wrist lasers. The defending mech easily blocked them with its shield and retaliated by firing a full salvo of homing missiles.

While the other mech defended against the sudden barrage, the green-striped mech closed the distance and bashed its shield against its counterpart. The sudden disruption of balance left the blue-striped mech vulnerable to an incoming chop. The lack of momentum caused the sword to leave only a shallow wound that hardly impacted the stricken mech's performance.

The anticipation grew among those who waited their turns. While they had all seen better mechs, most of them came with exorbitant price tags.

"This baby is more responsive than the Caesar Augustus!"

"That's natural. The CA-1 is two decades old."

"As long as the price is right, I don't mind ordering one for my son. It's a great mech for the younger generation to let out some steam."

"Careful with that. The armor of this variant is not as good as the original model. At least the cockpit's ejection system is still just as good."

Marcella didn't even had to steer the conversation directly. Her usual style of setting props to influence the mood generated an organic discussion about the Mark II's many merits.

She turned to the only guest who hadn't become entranced. "So, will you consider purchasing a model or two?"

"Not a chance!" Ares huffed. "The Larkinson boy is too wet behind the ears to design a mech that can withstand the rigors of a genuine war. The only reason I'm here is because I'm assigned to the Domestic Designer Support Program."

As a remote, third-rate state, the Bright Republic often had a hard time keeping grasp on its talents. Most of their most capable mech designers studied abroad at institutions like Leemar. Once they graduated, the majority became enamored with living in a sophisticated second-rate state and never returned to the poor and underdeveloped Republic.

The Mech Corps instituted the Support Program in order to keep their talents at home.

"Perhaps you should do your job for once. From what I've gathered, most of the participants of the Fusion Cup have already left the Republic."

The Support Program failed to attract the latest generation of promising mech designers. While it was too much to hope that Edwin McKinney would stick around, even second-tier talents like Michael Dumont and Patricia Schneider had left the Republic.

"What about the boy? When can we expect his departure?"

"He's a Larkinson." Marcella declared. "Every Larkinson I've met are unwaveringly loyal to the Republic. Vessie is no different from his family."

The colonel reluctantly nodded. "I'll give you that, but he's still too young to play a role. If the boy started his career a few years earlier, I might be convinced to lend him a hand. Right now he can't compete against the Journeymen we're already keeping an eye on."

"So you'd rather prepare for the war today than invest in the future." Marcella summed up the Program's current priority. "I can't say I blame you, but you're missing a prime opportunity to build a relationship with a future star. Anyone who caught the attention of a master will surely soar to greater heights."

"I've seen a lot of kids rise up like rockets travelling up the sky. Most of them fell after running out of juice."

Instead of continuing the argument, the two turned back to the crowd.

Everyone gained a decent impression of the Mark II, including its flaws. The lack of compressed armor put a limit to the application of the mech. The model's limited operating time put a lot of constraints.

Despite the reality check, everyone who personally piloted the physical model praised its excellent handling. Such a quality couldn't be expressed in numbers, so the gathering of guests eventually divided into two. Those who missed out wondered whether they misjudged the Mark II.

Marcella cleverly ended the trials at that point and proceeded to hold an auction immediately afterwards. She purposefully timed the auction when their curiosity reached its height. This led to a feverish round of bidding by competing collectors.

Most of them eyed the first production run of the Mark II as an investment. They did their homework on Ves. If the young man one day became a Senior or Master Mech Designer, the value of the first ever Marc Antony Mark II might balloon to ten or twenty times its current value.

Thus, a feverish round of bidding followed until a logistics magnate bagged the mech for a whopping 42 million credits.

Many collectors applauded the profligate fellow even as they thought he spent too much. The hobbyists and professionals among the crowd collected lots of mechs in order to increase the odds of a lucky strike. As long as they controlled their spending, they stood to make a handsome profit.

After the collectors had their fill of the auction, Marcella began to peddle the model in earnest. She offered an exclusive price of 32 million credits for a gold label mech, which deterred many of the guests. The mech broker ignored the doubters and worked to lock down orders from the small crowd who fell in love with the Mark II.

She pursued a deliberate strategy of maximizing the gold label's profit margin. Ves already told her that he lacked the time to fabricate a large number of gold label mechs. Marcella limited the maximum demand for the product by quoting a price

The relatively high price also set a psychological floor to the model's expected value. When Marcella eventually unveiled the silver label model, she could still make a handsome profit even if she charged a couple of million credits less. She expected to earn a lot more revenue by selling lots of silver label mechs.

Ares approached Marcella once she finished taking orders. Her assistants already approached her customers in order to hammer out the details.

According to the contract she signed with Ves, she was allowed to offer additional option such as insurance or repair services. They represented a major source of revenue to Marcella because she didn't have to share the earnings with Ves. It was one of the many ways she sneaked an additional benefit past her inexperienced partner.

"How many suckers have you reeled in?"

"Eight, which is quite a good haul. After all, Ves is not even a year into his career. Convincing eight adults to fork over their money for an untested product isn't easy."

"I suppose your marketing tricks have nothing to do with it, right?" Ares cheekily pointed out. "Whatever, I've got a shuttle to catch and another meeting to attend. I wish you both the best of luck."

"Thanks Ares!"

A lot of guests already started leaving now that the party had ended. Marcella stuck around to supervise the immediate handover of the first production mech. Both the model and the client deserved special attention. She kept a vigilant eye to the proceedings.

Marcella tallied her earning at the end of the day. She made over sixty million credits from her cut alone. She earned an additional twenty million from the services she pushed.

After subtracting her expenses, she still retained a third of the total sum. Compared to her other commissions, she called herself lucky if she managed to hold on to a fifth of her earnings.

"The good times are about to start." She whispered to herself.

More than anyone else, Marcella looked forward to the outbreak of war. As a veteran, experienced the horrors of a protracted conflict. The wars between the Bright Republic and the Vesia Kingdom usually amounted to a long and arduous battle of attrition.

Mech brokers like Marcella happened to love these lengthy and destructive wars. More battles meant more attrition. More attrition meant a greater demand for mechs. Even if the Mech Corps drafted the majority of Marcella's suppliers like, she still expected the demand for ready-made mechs to soar.

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When Ves finally heard back from Marcella, he turned to Lucky who rested on the couch.

"Am I hearing this right?"

Lucky batted his paw at him for disturbing his naptime. The lazy cat hadn't bothered to give his opinion. As long as the minerals kept coming, the animal was content.

His bank sent him a notification a few minutes later. Ves truly had to admit his broker kept her promises. His first production mech auctioned for an incredible sum of 42 million credits. This amounted to a gross profits of 15.6 million credits. Such a profit from a single sale was truly perverse.

He quickly received confirmation from the System as well by depositing 42 DP into his stagnant pool. It was a drop in the ocean compared to the earnings of his latest virtual mech, but every little bit helped.

What amazed Ves even more was that Marcella managed to draw out eight subsequent orders at the same event. Due to a lack of capital, he demanded his clients to pay a deposit up front in order to afford the resources required to fabricate the mechs. With such an onerous requirement, Marcella still managed to open the wallets of eight different people.

Ves glanced at the list of customers. Six of them were registered as mercenaries while only two appeared to be collectors. This meant that his mechs would certainly be employed in battle. A solid track record helped much to enhance the value of his Mark II.

After he finally came down from his excitement, Ves prepared his largest set of orders to date. First, he had to procure around 144 million credits worth of raw materials. If anything happened to this huge batch of resources, he might as well declare bankruptcy.

"I'll have to start looking for insurance." He quickly decided.

A quick search revealed that Sanyal-Ablin happened to be one of the major insurance vendors on the planet. They not only insured bulk transport shipments, they also offered an armed convoy service for especially valuable shipments. Anyone who contracted the convoy service naturally received a generous insurance quote.

Since he already contracted SASS to secure his workshop, he might as well inquire about their insurance policies. Ves called Robyn's comm. She picked up after two minutes of waiting.

"Sorry about that Mr. Larkinson, I had to finalize a business deal. How may I help you?"

"I'm about to receive a huge shipment of materials." He started, then explained his upcoming schedule.

Miss Robyn quickly got the picture. "I see. You have come to the right place to secure your shipments. Let me explain our products."

SASS offered various insurance policies. The cheapest policy only insured a fixed number of shipments, which was great for short-term business ventures. It also added up to a significant amount of money if renewed.

Those who wanted to insure their interstellar shipments for the long haul contracted their annual policies. Ves favored this kind of service because Ves only had to pay a fixed amount per year for a certain amount of shipments. If the amount or value of his shipment exceeded a certain threshold, the insurance policy automatically adjusted its annual rate. It made for a convenient and predictable expense.

"We highly recommend you combine our annual insurance with our convoy service." The woman added. "Shipments throughout the Republic has suffered from a marked increase in pirate attacks. Major mech shipments have become their prime targets."

He furrowed his brows. That sounded really bad news to Ves, especially since he frequently shipped his goods back and forth.

"How does it look like and what will it cost?"

"Our security company runs a network of armed convoys throughout the entire Republic. Combined with an annual insurance policy, Your business will be able to benefit from our convoy service at a preferential rate of ten million credits a year. This rate will only apply as long as the total market value of your shipments is lower than a billion credits a year."

Ves did a quick search on the galactic net. Prices for convoy services diverged quite a bit, but SASS enjoyed a good reputation. They charged twice as much and the costs ramped up faster if the trade volume increased, but their impeccable safety record was a testament on how they took their shipments seriously.

"Our regular convoy service from Cloudy Curtain to Bentheim and back runs a fixed schedule of eight days per circuit. Among our customers are the famous Raleigh and Luvon Consortiums. They entrust their valuable shipments of Cloud Rice and other luxury crops to our secure convoys. We have never let any of their shipments go astray."

"My shipments will join their convoy if I sign up?"

"That will likely be the case." Robyn nodded. "Considering the nature of your business, it will be sufficient to tack on an extra transport to the existing convoy whenever you send or receive a large number of goods. Smaller shipments such as a single mech can be squeezed in the cargo hold of a regular grain transport."

After a round of discussion, Ves decided to sign up for their combined insurance and convoy service package. He had to cough up another 10 million credits in exchange for some piece of mind. Robyn actually complimented him for signing on before the company raised its prices due to the increasing frequency of pirate attacks.

To be honest, Ves did not fear any pirate attacks. Cloudy Curtain was just a small hop away from Bentheim and thus somewhat fell under the port system's sphere of influence. Any pirate captain that decided to hijack a transport in this area might as well commit suicide.

Instead, he wanted to guard against sabotage. The recent troubles with the local politicians as well as the Gauge Dynasty warned him that it was best to take precautions. Even though the convoy service deducted twice as much as his annual interest payment, Ves deemed it worth the cost if he could push all responsibility onto Sanyal-Ablin.

"A ruined shipment won't hurt me very much. SASS will reimburse me for any losses their convoy incurs."

His overhead costs had increased again, but Ves considered all of them a necessary price for doing business in this day and age.

Once he signed the contract and supplied the necessary paperwork, SASS granted him access to a virtual site that allowed him to register his shipments.

Ves immediately made use of the service by ordering 144 million credits worth of raw materials and routed it all through Sanyal-Ablin's fixed convoy schedule. The next wave of convoys departed about two days later, giving Ves about five days of preparation.

"Carlos!" He called after finishing his arrangements.

"Yes boss?"

"What's your current success rate for the Mark II?"

"I'm still getting stuck on a couple of tight spots. I've been making strides, but I won't be able to master the fabrication process until the end of the month."

As the designer of the Mark II, Ves knew where Carlos struggled with thee process. His employee had tentatively mastered the printing process, which impressed him quite a bit.

Ves even considered letting Carlos take charge of the 3D printer, but quickly pushed the notion aside. A gold label mech deserved his full attention in order to strengthen its X-Factor as much as possible.

"Tell you what. I've received a substantial amount of orders for the Mark II. Five days later, I'll start fabricating eight of them in sequence. You can accompany me when I start to work, but you can only watch and ask questions. Is that alright with you?"

The chance to see Ves in action should be a golden opportunity for Carlos. His employee eagerly nodded. "Thank you! That's just what I need! I'll be sure not to bother you!"

In the meantime, Ves prepared his workshop for the upcoming fabrication run. He preconfigured his assembly machines with optimizations that sped up their processes and reduced the risk factors.

He also corresponded with Calsie about the tax reform bill and any other possible threats. According to the student, the Greens retracted their support for its immediate passage. The White Doves were forced to follow suit. For now, the Planetary Assembly bounced the bill back to a committee that intended to submit a modified version of the bill at the start of the next standard year.

"Looks like the abrupt departure of the Gauge Dynasty has thrown the ruling coalition into disarray." Ves noted with glee. He turned back to Calsie. "Have you made any headway in your plan to sink this bill?"

"I'm pursuing a couple of potential prospects. I'm currently in talks with a handful of interested parties. Once I've received their assent, I'll unveil my plan to you."

It sounded kind of vague, but Ves gave the woman a chance. "Alright, you can take your time as long as you have something solid."

Once he ended the call, he called up his agenda. If Ves wanted to attend the annual new year celebration with the Larkinsons, he had to speed up his fabrication run.

"I can only afford to spend four days to complete each mech." He calculated after running the numbers. "I also have to take the travel time into account."

He could save a lot of time if he repaired the Barracuda. However, Ves already blew a large portion of his savings. His remaining liquid funds still fell short of covering the cost of repairs. He shrugged went back to his preparations.

Five days later, the convoy from SASS touched down on Cloudy Curtain's spaceport. A swarm of smaller cargo shuttles transferred over two-thousand tons of goods to his workshop. Ves patted himself on his back for expanding the perimeter of his workshop. If not for his foresight, he might have run out of room.

Unfortunately, his secure storage room lacked the space to accommodate the entire shipment. Ves only stored the most valuable exotics while he left the bulk materials in their original containers.

Once his hauler bots brought the first set of materials to his 3D printer, Ves summoned Carlos to his side. "This is it, Carlos. I'll be demonstrating the fabrication process to you. If you can't figure out the methods to tackle those tight spots you mentioned, then you can go back to Bentheim."

"Don't worry boss, I'll be paying a lot of attention. Can I record your work?"

"I'd rather not." Ves immediately replied. Though SASS constantly monitored him through their security systems, he wished to minimize the risk of exposing the X-Factor. "Watch with your mind, not with your eyes. Don't try to memorize my routines through route learning. You're going to have an awful time if you don't understand the underlying thoughts of my actions."

Carlos nodded as he appeared to understand the point. "So I should be asking questions instead?"

"That's right, but don't disturb me while I'm at work. I'd hate to ruin a batch worth millions of credits if you happen to pull me out of my zone."

As Ves intended to go back to focusing on three different images at once, he quickly came up with an excuse. "Whenever I fabricate, I easily get sucked into my work. It's fine as long as you don't bump into me. I'll be taking regular breaks between my hour-long fabrication sessions. Feel free to ask your questions during my pauses."

"Understood. Before you start, can you tell me if you intend to fabricate the mechs one by one or by batch?"

"Each gold label mech is an individual creation. They deserve to be treated as a single entity instead of an assembly line product." Ves quickly made up in order to cover the fact that he needed to fabricate them one-by-one in order to maximize their X-Factor. "While it's not as efficient, the method ensures that each mech is a good fit for my customers."

"Will I be obliged to do the same if I start doing my job?"

"It's not necessary for you to take the same approach." Ves answered after considering the amount of mechs Carlos might fabricate one day. "That said, in the long run, I think it will greatly benefit your results if you learn to adopt the same mindset."

Once Carlos finished asking his questions, Ves began to focus his mind. He summoned the three inspirations and sharpened them into a combined intent. He successfully formed the unique mental imprint that was intrinsic to his Mark II design.

"Let's begin."

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Ves already possessed enough skills and experience to fabricate a flawless mech in six days. In order to compress the fabrication time to four days, he had to drop his excessive caution. He stopped double-checking and triple-checking most of his routine work and only slowed down when he reached a difficult phase.

His previous experience along with his ample preparations smoothed out his efforts to speed up his work. He already formulated standard set of responses to any problems he'd likely be facing.

"Watch carefully now." Ves instructed his attentive employee. "The fabrication of mech components is usually the most challenging portion of the fabrication process. The Mark Antony Mark II and the Caesar Augustus it's based upon are anomalies because their assembly phases are hellishly difficult. That does not reduce the difficulty of printing the parts."

Carlos raised his hand. "I can't help but notice that you haven't stockpiled a lot of spare materials. Are you that confident you won't slip up?"

"I am. As my own design, I'm perfectly aware of my limits. It's not too challenging for me to fabricate my design without any faults. I hope you can reach this point in the future."

Actually, Ves intended to build a stockpile of commonly-used resources once he finished the current production run. While he still had millions of credits to spare, he preferred to leave his savings alone unless an emergency came up.

"Alright, I'll be starting now. I have devote my complete attention to my work, so don't bump into me or anything."

Working with an audience took some time for Ves to get used to. He behaved a bit more self-consciously, which led to a couple of slip-ups. Fortunately, he managed to recover quickly and limit the damage.

Every hour, Ves took a break to relax his mind. This was where Carlos finally came into being by asking a lot of questions. His employee brimmed with questions that overflowed as soon as Ves took a break.

"Why do you slow down at that part…"

"What is the purpose of…"

"Can you tell me why you…"

Answering the questions was oddly beneficial to Ves. Before, he always worked alone, so he always internalized his approach. Now that Carlos kept digging into his methods, Ves had to package them into an existing theoretical framework and explain them using logic instead of intuition.

It provided Ves with the opportunity to revise his own choices. It also allowed him to address his shortcomings when he came up short. He couldn't simply say that he chose to apply a solution because of his gut feeling. He also declined to mention that he drew a lot of his knowledge from the skills that the System directly implanted into his brain.

Thus, when Ves answered the questions in a seriously, he gained a lot of insights into his own habits. He gained a new appreciation for teaching now that he benefited from it as much as his pupil.

The fabrication of components went without a hitch, though he took half a day extra to complete the process. He didn't expect to devote so much time explaining his methods.

Another variable that extended his breaks was that Lucky started to nag for attention. He constant shop talk and focused work left Ves with little time to play with his gem cat. The little bugger started to feel neglected, so he often dropped by when Ves put down his work.

"That's a really smart AI." Carlos complimented him when he noticed that Lucky never disrupted Ves when he was operating the machines. "I wish I had one. Where did you buy this model?"

"I didn't buy him. He's a present from my dad. I think he got it from the New Rubarth Empire, but I'm not sure. He's fairly unique I think so don't expect to get a pet as good as this one."

The cat cheekily yowled at Carlos before he went back to hugging Ves. It was as if the cat showed off its intelligence before it went back to claiming his owner's lap.

Lucky also regularly patrolled the grounds. Even if SASS already did a great job in securing the premises of his workshop, the cat still sniffed around as if he owned the place.

In the meantime, work continued. Once he finished fabricating all of the parts, Ves started assembling them into a single machine. The start of it went easy. Even Carlos could put together the internal frame and the core components without a single slip-up.

The problem began when Ves reached the stage where he had to build up the internals. Even if he completely revised the architecture, the complexity of using three different weapon systems as well as large-sized components left little space for anything else. It required a delicate touch in order to squeeze some parts in the right places.

Nonetheless, Ves managed to thread the needle again and again. It helped that he already removed the most problematic needles, leaving only those with wide enough openings.

Even Carlos appeared impressed. "The way you work the controls are so smooth. You're not only precise, but you're fast as well. I can watch you repeat that phase a hundred times and I still won't get bored."

"That's the benefit to designing your own mech. You can build it up in a way that suits your skills. The goal of designing your mech should be to maximize the performance while minimizing its complexity. Often times, you have to make a decision between the two. The more capable mech designers are still able to cope with the complexity that's necessary to elevate their designs."

"So an inexperienced mech designer like me could still design a variant like yours, right?"

"Yes, but you'll need a really good fabricator to turn your design into a reality." Ves shook his head. "It's best not to go beyond your means. A design that is too complex for you to fabricate will likely include a lot of design flaws that aren't obvious at first glance."

Ves worked a little more briskly this time but failed to keep up with his schedule. He completed the assembly another half day late, which meant that it took about five days to fabricate his second gold-label mech.

"This really won't do. I need to work faster."

Hence, Ves forced his employee to curb his curiosity and only ask a single question per break. This helped a lot by the time he started fabricating the second mech. He worked more briskly now that Carlos spent most of his time observing. Most of the pertinent questions had been answered already anyway.

Time flowed like water down the stream. Ves fell into a routine where he discarded almost all of his distractions and focused solely on completing his mechs.

Even his interactions with Carlos changed into something of a routine. He gained so much practice in splitting his mind that he could actually hold a conversation with a third of his mind. The realization didn't sink in to Ves at the time.

While the first model still incorporated a couple of minor flaws, the second one looked much better. By the time he fabricated the third mech, Ves managed to suppress all of the recurring flaws. Anomalies continued to happen, but Ves was able to address them as they occurred. His mastery of the Mark II improved by leaps and bounds.

"Something has to be said for repetition." Ves noted one day after he completed the fifth model. "It doesn't matter how smart you are or how many books you've read. Getting your hands dirty is the best way to round up your ability."

Some mech designers believed that they should specialize in drafting up designs. They never bothered to fabricate a mech in person. Perhaps they were forced to do so during their studies, but as soon as they got loose they never touched a fabrication machine for the rest of their lives.

Mostly affluent designers subscribed to that philosophy. They considered the fabrication process to be beneath their status. They cheerfully left the job to their minions while they already started cooking up their next designs.

In contrast, poor blokes like Carlos had to work beneath their station in order to make a living. While he certainly benefited from mastering the fabrication process, it only offered a single perspective. If Carlos ever wanted to advance his career, he had to supplement his learning on his own.

Many tried and failed to excel because they lacked the resources and opportunities to compete against those who enjoyed a head-start. That was something Carlos also knew deep down in his heart.

As Ves tackled the remaining orders, he started getting headaches again. The pain slowly escalated, causing him to hurry up and rush his production.

Fortunately, Carlos satisfied his curiosity by the time Ves built up his seventh mech. He stopped asking questions and merely watched on as Ves worked his magic.

The last three mechs rolled off the assembler without a hitch. Ves fulfilled all eight orders with only one day behind schedule. He easily managed to hit his goal of taking four days to fulfill an order. If not for the headaches, he might have only taken three days to complete a mech.

"Ugh. A human isn't supposed to split his mind all day." He muttered as he sunk down on his couch, unaware that he almost bumped into a dozing Lucky. "Oops, sorry about that buddy."

The cat hissed at him and slinked away to find a safer spot to settle down. Ves scratched his head and thought it was almost time for Lucky to deposit another gem in his litterbox.

"Remember, don't do your bathroom business without me!"

He always made sure to erect the privacy shield when Lucky excreted another gem. Perhaps the security monitors from SASS thought he had a weird fetish for accompanying his gem cat's bathroom breaks, but Ves didn't care. He eagerly intended to elevate his mechs with Lucky's special gems.

That reminded Ves of an unpleasant fact. It cost at least 100 DP to mark a gem with his anonymizing stamp. If he only had to stamp once, then he could easily bear the cost. If he had to stamp eight mechs at a time, then his stagnant DP suddenly received a stagnant reduction.

He could choose not to use his gems, but that did not sit well with Ves. It was a waste to ignore Lucky's utility. The cat might also start to grow grumpy if he thought that Ves treated his gems like garbage.

Eight mechs stood in a row. All of them gleamed in the lights with their shiny coating and intimidating bulk. Every Mark II also sported the distinctive logo of a stylized cat lounging upon a rainbow cloud enclosed by a V. Seeing all of them together side-by-side hammered home to Ves that he had finally become a true mech manufacturer.

"Gosh. You're incredible, you know that?" Carlos complimented as he became entranced by the sight. "It's too bad these mechs are destined to split up. I can't imagine how awesome it would be if all eight of these mechs are deployed as a single squad."

This was the first time Ves put eight identical mechs together. The X-Factor that emanated from each of them melded together in a single entity that almost came alive. The amplified waves affected Carlos even if he couldn't put his feelings into words.

"It's a shame indeed." Ves replied. He wished he could keep the mechs in place and study the effects in greater detail. "In the end, we don't own these mechs. As much as we'd like to treat our creations as our own, we have to keep in mind that others have already paid for it. Mechs can only be treated right if they fulfill their purpose."

With that in mind, Ves calmly initiated the hand-off procedure for all eight mechs. He first sent them to the MTA for certification. Since he personally fabricated each of the models with sufficient care, they should be able to pass the inspections. He therefore scheduled enough slots for eight packaged mechs in the next convoy to Bentheim.

"Five days later, the mechs should arrive at Bentheim. Marcella can take over from there."

He immediately booked a first-class ticket on a reputable passenger liner to the capital system of the Republic. Though Ves wanted to wait and receive his payment for delivering the mechs, he had to leave immediately if he wanted to attend the annual Larkinson gathering in Rittersberg.

Before he departed for his trip, Ves made some arrangements for his absence. He first instructed Carlos to continue to practice his fabrication skills. Ves expected his employee to start earning his keep by the time the new year dawned.

"Don't worry Ves. You've given me a lot of answers. I've got a solid direction on how to improve."

Even Carlos felt bad for spending his first months under Ves as a freeloader. He eagerly wished to prove his worth and start earning his paycheck.

As for Calsie, she still worked on a plan. Ves merely informed her to keep him updated as he left for Rittersberg. He wanted to know the instant the ruling coalition wanted to take advantage of his absence by pulling a stunt.

"You don't have to worry about that, boss. The Planetary Assembly and the City Council are both in recess. Even politicians have to go home to accompany their families."

"Huh. You could have fooled me. Am I wrong to assume that most of them are bastards?"

"Well…" Calsie trailed off. "A lot of influential people are hosting parties at this time of year. It's the perfect opportunity to mingle with the rich and powerful."

"Figures. Just keep an eye on the Big Three and track who they are talking to. I'm curious to know who among the locals are supporting their shenanigans."

"Will do!"

After tidying up his workshop, he sent a brief message to Marcella that he was taking a break. While Ves liked to meet with her face to face, his flight schedule was already tight.

"Hopefully she'll be placated by the plans I have in store."

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Vincent Ricklin did not suffer fools gladly. Sadly, encountered many fools in the cause he had shackled to. If the rebel had anything kind to say about the Bentheim Liberation Movement, it was that at least a third of them believed in the cause.

The remainder consisted of a mix between disgruntled pirates looking for a thrill and foreign provocateurs wishing to destabilize the Republic.

He did not have a beef with either of them. Vincent pretty much turned into a pirate himself when he vaporized half the elders of his family. Also, the foreign agents from the Vesia Kingdom and elsewhere generously bankrolled their entire operation.

This meant that Vincent should be able to get along with everyone in the Movement. The reality proved otherwise.

The separatists wanted to fight the Mech Corps directly, which was suicide. No matter how well-funded, a group of rebels could never match up against the might of a proper army.

The pirates wanted to keep hitting soft targets. Their bloodthirsty instincts pushed them to ever-greater acts of * and pillage, the opposite of how a rebel group ought to behave.

As for the foreign agents, they barely managed to rein in the worst of the group by threatening to cut off the money. For all their smarts and secrets, they barely knew how to

From this motley crew of bandits and rebels, Vincent only trusted his old butler. Johnson stood by his side, armed and armored like he meant it. The former wastrel found Johnson's deathly presence to be an effective deterrent against the more lawless types in the crew.

"When they told me the BLM actually stood a chance of freeing Bentheim from the Republic, I never believed the spy for a second."

His elder butler concurred. "The port system is a strategic asset. If the Bentheim System actually manages cast off the Republic's yoke, the Kingdom will simply step in afterwards."

Thereby adding a third port system to their considerable territory. Such a drastic change fundamentally affected the power balance in the region. The Vesians didn't even have to conquer the rest of the Republic. They could simply starve the remote systems into submission by cutting off access to cheap and convenient trade.

Not that Vincent cared about any sides. He always reminded to himself that he worked for himself. The BLM provided him with an escape route from his slowly worsening status with the Ricklins. Now that they served their purpose, Vincent increasingly inched towards the exit.

Not that General Vasil or Agent Orian ever let him out of their sights. The leader of the resistance movement along with the head liaison from the Vesians both invited Vincent for a meeting. The young man navigated the crudely tunneled corridors of the movement's asteroid base and entered a conference room, or whatever passed as one.

Compared to the stellar interior of the Ricklins, the current room left much to be desired. Empty crates served as their seats while an empty stack of mech-sized magazines acted as their table.

"Can't you whip up something better?" Vincent questioned with an exasperated tone. "We've been staying here for months. You don't even need a printer. Just let one of the boys whip something up with a welder and some scrap."

The great military general of closed his eyes in ecstasy as he injected his veins with a smuggled stimulant. "Our means are not much. This ain't your old daddy's operation where you can shower everyone with money. We are barely keeping up our maintenance."

"Enough. Let's not waste Mr. Ricklin's time." Agent Orian interrupted as he looked up from his work at disassembling a faulty spy drone. "Vincent, we've called you here because we have a major operation in store."

"You're cooking something other than a mindless killing spree?"

"Every act has a purpose. The constant terror bombings has succeeded in frightening the Republic. It has made them retract their defenses just the way we like it. In fact, their feeble response directly enables us to proceed with the operation we have in store."

Just as the agent was about to enumerate their goals, an alarm engulfed the entire base. The loud sirens and red flashing lights interrupted everyone rebel in the giant asteroid base.

The general gestured with his palm, cutting off the alarm. Vasil summoned up a projection of the asteroid base and its perimeter. A large amount of large red dots surrounded the base. This didn't alarm him as much as a section of the asteroid itself beginning to take on a crimson color.

"We've been infiltrated!" The general roared and slammed his fist against the top of his makeshift table. "They've already launched a regiment of mechs at sector gamma and established a beachhead! They're splitting our mechs from our ships!"

Their asteroid base mainly guarded against sabotage. With the kind of crew they were running, the possibility that a drunk pilot might one day go crazy and shoot everything in sight was a distinct possibility. Therefore, the base placed the mech stables at the opposite side of the ship bay.

Which meant that none of the mechs could escape so long as the Hellhounds blocked the passages in between.

More intelligence started to stream in once the invaders stopped hiding. "It's the 3rd Infernal Hellhounds!"

Everyone's faces soured even further. The Third was one of the most stubborn and scrappiest regiments of the 2nd Bentheim Division. They embodied the principle of eschewing complicated tricks and schemes in favor of charging over and punching mechs in the face. For them to end up in the middle of their base was a disaster.

"The ship bay is holding on for now. Our exterior defensive grid has finally been brought online. No one will be able to approach our base for now. We can hold for an hour, maybe two."

Fixed defenses such as turrets and autonomous defense bots could never hold out for long against a large force of mechs.

It quickly turned out that the Infernal Hellhounds brought half a regiment's worth of mercenaries along for the ride. The rowdy mechs-for-hire didn't possess the level of organization of a disciplined unit, but their numbers sorely pressured the defenders.

"Vincent." General Vasil called and pointed at a particular intersection. "A squad of mechs is inching towards the power plant. They don't have the numbers to overcome our guards, but I don't want to leave any chances for them to employ a trick. Get back to the stables and gather your subordinates. I want you to intercept these mercs."

"On it!" Vincent acknowledged and ran back to the stables where he and his crew of elites stowed their mechs. He tried to call up his subordinates through his comm, only to encounter nothing but static and junk. "Those stupid Hellhounds! Since when did they gather enough brain cells to operate a jammer?!"

"It's obvious the Third is not acting alone. Either some clever mercenaries or another regiment has provided them with support."

While Vincent loved springing traps on others, he hated being on the receiving end of one. The corridors started shaking as scores of mechs rampaged inside the only halls large enough to accomodate mech traffic.

"Whatever's the case, we won't be going anywhere without our mechs!"

They quickly reached the mech stables. Vincent sighed in relief when he saw that most of his men had already arrived. Johnson quickly shed his armor in order to don a piloting suit while Vincent started to organize his elites.

"I'm sure that everyone knows what's going on! The incompetent numbskulls manning the sensor arrays have dropped the ball! Right now, half a regiment of mechs along with a horde of mercenaries are rampaging inside our halls, cutting us off from our ships!"

"Let's fight!"

"Kick those bastards off our rock!"

"Silence!" The young man called. Leadership always came naturally to him, and despite his youth, he already earned his crew's respect. "The general has given his orders. A band of mercs are crawling towards the power plant. I won't tell you what will happen if our base loses power."

Everyone understood the gravity of the situation. Vincent and Johnson quickly boarded their mechs and powered them up. While Johnson piloted a fairly average rifleman provided by the Movement, Vincent still clung on to his flamboyant Marc Antony.

Months of campaigning had tarnished its armor. Nothing remained of its glorious light scheme. Despite its battered state, most of the damage was cosmetic.

"Move out!"

An eclectic mix of seven mechs followed Vincent's hybrid knight as they travelled to the power plant. They neared one of the hot zones but avoided the thick of it as they slinked off to the deepest part of the asteroid.

The sounds of battle and death slowly faded as they traversed a desolate tunnel. Vincent silently cursed as he considered the chances of making it out alive. A noted terrorist and murderer like him expected no clemency from the Mech Corps.

The falling debris and the gradual collapse of the base echoed the state of the resistance movement. A combination of attrition and lack of cohesion slowly broke apart the BLM. Vincent wouldn't be surprised to to find out that a couple of traitors emerged from their ranks. How else could their sensors miss the approach of an entire regiment?

A light mech in front of Vincent suddenly jerked. "Detecting heat signatures in front of us!"

"How many?"

"Six or seven, I'm not too sure. They're mostly mediums."

"We outnumber them. That's good. They must have detected our approach as well, so there's no need to sneak around. Stick to a tight formation and unleash hell!"

With Vincent's sturdy knight at the fore, they stormed inside a large and open cargo hold. Due to the lack of supplies, the hold never filled up to capacity. Only a handful of isolated containers lay forgotten in the cavern. The lack of cover allowed both sides to peek at their opponents.

"Hello there Vincent." The pilot of a distinctive mech called out. "I've been expecting your arrival for a while now."

A mech that sported almost the same contours as Vincent's waited at the other side. The young rebel leader grew alarmed. "Who are you?!"

"You can call me Captain Caruthers."

"The bounty hunter? No wonder you've managed to track me down. The Infernal Hellhounds couldn't find their own tails with their own noses."

The two owned the only physical copies of the Marc Antony Mark I. The similarities between the two mechs caused their teammates to halt in confusion. In the meantime, the two mech pilots continued to chat.

"Does your mech hitch up when you overuse your wrist lasers?" Caruthers asked.

"Yeah it does. According to the technicians, the overheating easily disrupts the channels that feed into the engine. It's too easy to forget your limits when you keep blasting your lasers."

"I see you've stuck to the original mace."

The codpiece-sporting mech hefted its heavy mace and took a heavy swing with it. "I've tried out a couple of swords but I'm no good with them. I prefer the weight of a mace."

They brought their mechs to readiness once they finished talking about their mechs. The Phoenix Cry readied its sword while Vincent's tarnished mech held up its heavy tower shield.

"Boss! I've got them in my sight. Just say the word and I'll pump them full of lasers."

"Stop! This is between me and him!" Vincent declared as his mech gestured them away. "Back off and don't get in my way. This rotten merc is only here for me."

Both sides understood that a full-blown battle could quickly spin out of control. While the rebels had numbers on their side, the mercs sported pristine mechs. A fight to the death could quickly turn ugly for both sides.

"Are you ready kid?" Caruthers asked while his mech flourished its sword.

"Don't call me a kid, old man!"

Vincent blazed forth with his mech with its launchers disgorging its payload of rockets.

While the sudden strike caught the bounty hunter off-guard, Caruthers quickly reacted by bracing the Phoenix Cry's shield.

Many of the unguided rockets went wide, but at least half of them impacted the shield in a constant stutter of explosions. The rockets packed a lot of punch and easily chewed through half the layers of Caruthers' shield. The pounding mace attack that followed further stressed the remaining layers.

Instead of disengaging, the Phoenix Cry pushed forwards and stabbed forward with its sword. Vincent awkwardly blocked the strike with his shield, but his mech suddenly staggered backwards as the Phoenix Cry kicked the slab of metal.

As the distance opened up, the two sides started to pepper each other with laser beams.

"Why have you sought me out?" Vincent asked between breaths.

"Your mech is too ugly, that's why!" The captain responded as his mech closed in again for a frontal clash. "I'm sick and tired of my mech being mistaken for yours!"

The two mechs braced their shields as they collided against each other. The impact rang throughout the entire hall.

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As the duel raged on, both sides started to suffer. Vincent's aptitude was quite good. He controlled his mech with enough fluency and precision to outmaneuver his opponent.

Caruthers on the other hand possessed years of experience. His advantage in years polished his moves until they flowed seamlessly despite their deliberate speed.

The contrast between young and old affected their battle in many ways. While Caruthers kept pulling off tricks, Vincent always managed to avoid the damage by taking advantage of his superior reflexes.

The two hybrid knights eschewed all their other weapons in favor of their melee weapons. The beams fired from their wrist lasers splashed ineffectually against a shield while Vincent already expended his missile complement.

The younger combatant carefully noted how his opponent still hadn't launched any missiles. Vincent was wary of anything the captain's mech might disgorge, so he kept his mech on its toes and never fully committed to a single attack.

This caused the battle to drag on in an even matchup where both mechs suffered similar amounts of damage. Vincent gave up on striking his opponent's mech directly and instead worked to bash its damaged shield apart.

"You've built up a lot of pent-up anger I see." Caruthers remarked as his mech accepted the hit but retaliated with a chop that Vincent barely managed to block. "Going pirate isn't doing your stress any favors!"

The Phoenix Cry suddenly changed its pattern by unleashing a bewildering assault. Sword after sword struck the battered rebel's mech, with at least half going through the young man's clumsy guard. The mercenary leader gave Vincent absolutely no reprieve from his furious strikes.

Instead of panicking, Vincent patiently endured the constant attacks. He knew the model intimately and was aware the Marc Antony couldn't sustain such an aggressive pace.

"Haha, how long can you hold on, old man?"

"Long enough to make you cry!"

The seasoned bounty hunter fought like an old but prideful lion while the young rebel held off the attacks like a patient turtle. Though Vincent fared relatively well, he still missed a couple of blocks, allowing his opponent's sword to chip away at his vulnerable joints.

Once the Phoenix Cry ran out of steam, Vincent finally gained the opportunity to dish back the hurt. His mech resumed hammering its mace against the bounty hunter's increasingly wretched shield. All of the damage it absorbed so far had not done its integrity any favors.

Its durability was at the end of its rope and both sides knew it. Despite his seemingly inevitable defeat, Caruthers still made use of the shield while it lasted, trading blows for blows.

Unlike his younger adversary, the bounty hunter ignored his opponent's shield and sought to damage the mech directly. Vincent only exposed his openings briefly, so most of the attacks glanced off his durable shield. Whenever the Phoenix Cry succeeded in landing a blow, it often lacked the force to punch through the model's substantial armor.

A huge crash echoed throughout the cavern as Vincent finally bashed an ugly hole through his opponent's shield. The Phoenix Cry staggered back and fired off a wrist lasers to cover its retreat.

The beams splashed harmlessly against Vincent's shield. The younger pilot ignored the lasers knowing that a hybrid knight like his own could take it. He did his best to pursue the wiley bounty hunter only to find out his opponent clearly his tactical retreats.

"You coward! Get back here!" Vincent yelled as his mech fired off its own laser beams in response.

The situation changed abruptly when additional forces arrived at the cargo hold. Vincent broke off his pursuit once he spotted that the mechs varied wildly in appearance.

Vincent finally realised why Caruthers dragged out the duel. "You honorless dog! You were buying time!"

"Did you think treacherous scum like you deserve to be treated with honor? Hahahaha!" The mercenary captain laughed as about twenty mercenary mechs fanned out to surround Vincent and his crew. "Your little sister Catelyn sends her regards!"

His dreaded sister must have put a massive bounty on his head. Certainly it must have been quite a sum, or else the mercs would have competed against each other for his head.

Just when things couldn't go worse for Vincent, Caruthers finally unleashed his missiles. Vincent's mech quickly braced its shield, but the streaks of death flew right over its head and impacted the exit leading to the power plant.

Everyone momentarily lost their footing as the missiles detonated their non-standard high explosive payloads against the cavern. The large amount of successive explosions weakened the rocks and dislodged a significant amount of chunks that piled up in front of the exit.

Caruthers just cut off their escape route.

"FIGHT!" Vincent uttered and pushed his mech into a thundering charge.

The sudden act propelled the rest of his men to resist to the end. There was no point in surrendering, as the Bright Republic never forgave the rebels for its many bombings.

With their lives on the line, the rebels fought with no reserve. Their sudden ferocity pushed back the complacent mercenaries who thought the bounty was already in their grasp.

The mercs all held back for fear of damaging their expensive mechs. They mostly focused on containing the aggression and preventing the rebels from breaking through their lines.

Compounding their disparity was that the mercs fielded cheap, disposable frontline mechs. Most of these mechs lacked the flexibility of a regular humanoid mech due to the absence of fully articulated arms and specialized shapes.

One such mech looked like a walking gun platform. The crude-looking mech sported twin ballistic cannon barrels instead of fully articulated arms and it also lacked a head entirely. The sensors and many other essential systems had been integrated in its large barrel-shaped torso.

Such a design might not be versatile, but when fielded in large enough numbers they made for an intimidating sight.

The large number of frontline mechs kept peppering the outnumbered rebels with their prodigious firepower. Meanwhile, Caruthers and the handful of other melee mechs tried to slow down their desperate opponents.

Two crazy mechs focused their wrath on Captain Caruthers. Even as the mercs continued to shoot apart the rebel mechs, they both hammered the Phoenix Cry with axes and lasers. The bounty hunter barely fended them off using his threadbare shield.

He still managed to take a peek at the overall situation and discovered something disconcerting. "Where is Vincent?"

The young rebel's mech had left the fight and approached one of the containers. It bashed apart the hatch with its mace before stowing the weapon to free up its hand. It retrieved a large, reinforced barrel that barely fit in the mech-sized hand.

"You think you got me? Think again!" Vincent roared as his mech threw a threw the barrel in the middle of the fight. The mech quickly repeated its actions, causing half-a-dozen barrels to spill a strange, fluorescent fluid over some of the mechs.

"What's this?"

"Heavens! That's high-density shuttle fuel!"

"Who the hell is stores flammables in a random container like that?!"

"Pirates and rebels aren't big on safety, you know!"

"Stop fighting! Don't ignite the fuel!"

The mechs belatedly stopped fighting, but it was too late. Vincent's mech raised its arm and and fired off its laser cannon. The thick beam instantly hit a patch of fuel, causing it to ignite in a massive blaze that overloaded everyone's sensors.

By the time their systems compensated, they realized that half of the mechs erupted into flames. The inferno didn't distinguish sides as the fuel splashed both mercs and rebels alike.

Most of the mech pilots followed their training and quickly ejected once they realized they couldn't put out the fire. Those who remained performed all kinds of shenanigans such rolling their mechs over the ground.

While the mercs fussed over their friends, Vincent quickly took the chance to flee. His battered Marc Antony charged forth with its shield and slammed into one of the lighter frontline mechs. The impact crunched aside the flimsy mech into an awful heap. The rebel leader quickly took advantage of the opening and slipped past the mercs.

"Boss!"

"Traitor!"

"General Vasil won't let you get away with this!"

Vincent felt no regret in leaving his subordinates behind. He only cared about saving his own hide. Besides, the general likely wouldn't fault him as Caruthers conveniently collapsed the route to the power plant. The only way to get past that obstacle quickly was to use a digger module which none of the mercs possessed.

"Get back here Vincent!" Caruthers yelled as he and a couple of mercs followed on his heels.

They quickly neared the conflict zone where the 3rd Infernal Hellhounds stubbornly blocked the routes to the ship bay. The chaos of battle quickly engulfed Vincent's fleeing mech, causing the pursuing mechs to lose track of their prey.

"VINCENT!"

Despite their best efforts, the mercs failed to sniff out their bounty. The rebels and pirates who desperately tried to punch through the Hellhounds increasingly brought more mechs to the fore. Caruthers and the rest of the mercs were forced to drop their search and help the Hellhounds withstand the latest wave.

Captain Caruthers gnashed his teeth as his mech moved into position. "I'll get you for this, Vincent! You haven't seen the last of me!"

As a significant portion of the Bentheim Liberation Movement fought for their lives, Ves leisurely ate his lunch aboard a fairly expensive passenger liner.

Though impressive in the standards of the Bright Republic, the Vision of Astoria did not measure up to the floating resorts of the Friday Coalition.

Unlike the Torch of the Vanguard, the Vision used an older generation FTL drive that forced the ship to jump further from the edge of a star system. Everytime the passenger liner made a stop, she had to spend a large amount of time to reach the inner system and dock at a station.

Ves patiently endured the stops as this was already the most direct route from Bentheim to Rittersberg. The two core star systems were located at the opposite ends of the Republic's borders. It made for a lengthy and somewhat boring flight.

Even Lucky stopped exploring the ship. The lazy gem cat simply sought out Ves and slept on his lap whenever possible.

"We're almost there, Lucky. Our ship is almost out of FTL."

After finishing his lunch, Ves brought his cat to the upper deck and entered the observatory. Many other passengers had already arrived to take a seat or grab a snack from one of the vendors.

A shipwide alert informed the passengers of the Vision's imminent transition back to normal space. Ves quickly took one of the dwindling seats and looked upwards at the swirling grey confusion beyond the ship's transparent windows.

A few minutes later, a black expanse of stars replaced the hypnotic view as the Vision of Astoria finally reached the Rittersberg System.

Beyond the emptiness of space, a large amount of ships and defensive installations loomed over a massive starfort.

The ancient structure along with three identical forts had been built by the descendants of the original pacifists who settled this remote system. They salvaged many unique systems from their old Rubarthan capital ships and incorporated them seamlessly into the central structures of the forts.

Among those, the gravitic anchor played an essential role in keeping the starfort relevant. They distorted the surrounding gravitic topography and drew in every incoming ship that travelled to the Rittersberg system.

Any hostile force that wished to invade the Republic's capital had to overcome a starfort before they opened up the rest of the system. The Republic hadn't slacked off and constantly reinforced the forts until they reached a point where they were virtually impregnable to any conventional force.

Perhaps the Vesians might be able to overwhelm one of the forts if they were willing to sacrifice a couple of divisions of mechs. Such a price was too much to bear. If any Vesian monarch tried to force an offensive, they'd be deposed by their own subjects before such madness could go through.

"I'm finally back." Ves sighed as he drew his eyes past the giant starfort and tried to spot one of the twinkling lights that represented the capital planet. "I wonder if anyone still remembers me."

He graduated from the Rittersberg University of Technology with grades that were only slightly above average. Most likely, no one expected Ves to amount to anything. His father had to go into debt in order to cobble up a shabby mech workshop, and that still left him with little means to acquire a production license.

Things were different now. With the help of the System, Ves rapidly established his chops as a young but promising mech designer. In fact, Marcella recently transferred 60.8 million credits to his bank account after handing over his finished products.

"I wonder what my grandfather will say when he sees how much profit I've made."

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The star system that hosted Rittersberg used to be endowed with lots of exotic resources. It used to be an oasis compared to the barren desert of its surrounding systems. The pacifists exiles who wearily escaped from the fighting in the center of the Komodo Star Sector eagerly laid down their foundations in this relatively rich star system.

All of the deposits had been depleted after a hundred years of intensive mining. The initial boom in resources had fueled the construction of the initial colonies and expanded the reach of the descendants until they carved out their own place in the galaxy.

The Vision of Astoria along with every other ship had to dock at a giant space station orbiting a very remote dwarf planet. Ves and Lucky joined the other passengers in exiting the passenger liner and had gone through multiple security screenings and identity checks before the dour-faced security officers pushed them onwards.

"Security is even tighter than before."

"Of course it is!" A pot-bellied man replied as he frequently looked at the time. "If you think this is bad, wait until the war starts in earnest. Most civilians won't be able to enter the system."

A lot of visitors bemoaned the current state of unrest. The tourists and civilians who wanted to celebrate the new year at Rittersberg had to wait for hours before they received permission to move on to a navy-operated transit shuttle.

Fortunately for him, Ves got lumped in with the veterans and active servicemen who enjoyed preferable treatment. He had already become a notable citizen when he reached the finals of the Fusion Cup so no one gave him any hassle. Even his potentially dangerous gem cat had been cleared to accompany him, though with caveats.

Lucky resentfully yowled at Ves. His paws had been locked together with resilient cuffs, preventing him from deploying his claws effectively.

"Just deal with it Lucky." Ves tried to soothe his pet. "You'll be free to roam around once we reach the Larkinson Compound."

They boarded a secure shuttle that slowly brought them to the inner system. As a precaution, the only ships, shuttles and transports that operated within the system were directly crewed by the navy. The Rittersberg System was the only place in the Republic that remained untouched by the rebels.

After two days of plodding, the shuttle finally reached one of the civilian space stations orbiting the first planet from the sun. It used to be a fairly hot planet, but extensive terraforming had tempered the climate until it closely resembled that of Ancient Earth.

The space station itself looked spectacular as well. Designed for form as well as function, the triangular construct offered a spectacular view of the green jewel below. A harmonious ensemble of trees and flower graced its elegant interior and enchanted many first-time visitors.

Only the abundant patrols and the heavy-handed security measures marred the tranquil sight. The visible security presence was actually a lot more blatant than he expected.

"Did something happen?" He asked a crowd of random visitors.

"Didn't you hear? The 3rd Infernal Hellhounds found and attacked the headquarters of the BLM!"

Ves immediately stopped and turned towards the woman who answered. "The Bentheim Liberation Movement? Truly? How did it go?!"

"Don't know for sure yet, but we've given the rebels a bloody nose alright. The Republic is keeping a tight lid on the news."

Even after Ves browsed the galactic net on his comm, he found nothing useful. The Mech Corps released a short statement that they considered the attack a success, but warned that the BLM still possessed a lot of assets and that they might retaliate in the coming days. The news was ominous and it explained the tension hanging in the air.

"Hopefully they took out Vincent. I should have never customized a mech for him even if he paid an extravagant sum."

He still suffered from the fallout of Vincent's madness. Strictly speaking, an arms manufacturer like Ves should not be held responsible for the crimes committed by his customers. If this were so, then almost every major mech and weapons manufacturer

He still felt bad about it nonetheless. For a long time, he only sold two mechs. A decent bounty hunter bought his first model, while the other went to a mass-murdering terrorist. Ves still carried that cross to this day.

Fortunately, he already redeemed himself to the authorities. With Master Olson from the mighty Coalition vouching for his name, no government agency dared to bring him into custody.

After a short wait, a different shuttle brought him and his cat down to Rittersberg's famed spaceport. Its construction resembled a crane about to take flight. The shuttle landed onto one of its many feathers before disgorging its passengers.

Once everyone stepped out, the shuttle lifted off and headed to a different destination in order to pick up those who wished to depart. In the meantime, the 'feather' everyone stood on suddenly detached from the base of the main construction.

"Whoa?! What's going on? Are we falling?!"

Many of the passengers already expected the platform to detach and float to the surface. A few of the friendlier ones reassured the first-timers that this was nothing special.

As the feather platform floated downwards, it flew past several marvellous sights. The transparent crane in the center gave everyone a good view of its many shopping boulevards and exquisite restaurants. Those who stood on the other side got a good view of the surprisingly low-rise metropolis called Kelnar.

Only a couple of high-rise structures dominated its carefully designed urban planning. The most notable of which consisted of the massive Eternal Lighthouse that was supposedly lit by an undying flame. Even at this distance, Ves could see the white marbled structure as clear as day.

Once the feather touched down on the ground, everyone picked up their luggage from a nearby hall and hailed an aircar. Ves did the same and boarded a fairly swift but expensive car in order to reach his destination faster.

The aircar zipped away and flew away from Kelnar. The densely-populated city made way for elegant parks and stately-looking manors. Those who earned the right to live in those mansions were all bigshots of the Republic. Some of them even formed an entire dynasty of civil servants who all worked in the same branch of government.

After a half-hour flight, the aircar finally reached one of Kelnar's satellite cities. Varleton was home to a military base along with several other related facilities. A lot of families with ties to the military settled down in this quiet city.

The Larkinson Compound was situated in a tranquil privileged community that housed many mid and high level military personnel. Many Larkinsons who for one reason or another wished to carve out a life on their own resided in the compound. In fact, most of the residents consisted of elders along with some orphans and widows.

Death could happen at any time. Any Larkinson who signed up for the Mech Corps might one day return to their families in a coffin. The last Bright-Vesia War had reaped the lives of several uncles and aunts. Ves was fortunate that his father survived the war with his hide intact.

"We're finally home." He said while stretching his arms.

Lucky curiously stepped forth and sniffed the alien grass. Once they exited the spaceport, security finally removed his restraints. The cat eagerly flexed his limbs throughout the entire shuttle ride.

"Come on, little buddy. Let's go inside and meet the family."

The Larkinson Compound might look like a peaceful manor complex on the surface, but it hid a deadly array of defenses. A couple of guards personally inspected Ves and his luggage before they cleared his identity. After stepping inside the courtyard, a dozen kids immediately scampered over.

"Ves! You're back! Yay!" A little girl named Janie celebrated. "Hug please!"

He obliged the girl as well as every other munchkin. Once he put down the last kid, Janie quickly glomped his leg and look up at him with a pleading expression.

"Can I have a mech now?"

"I want a mech too!"

"Whoa there kids, mechs aren't toys for you to play around, especially at your age." Ves tried to placate the mech-hungry brats. "Wait until you're ten years old."

Everyone moaned in disappointment. Ves didn't want to make them cry, so he thought quickly until his gaze landed upon Lucky. He walked past some of the kids and picked up Lucky by his chest.

"Look at my new pet! Isn't he cool? His name is Lucky, and he's a very playful cat."

The kids completely forgot about asking for their own mechs once they beheld the gem cat. Lucky's gorgeous appearance immediately entranced the boys and girls. When the cat released a questioning meow, Lanie started to squeal.

"He's so cute!"

"So shiny!"

"I want a dog like that too!"

Some of the kids had their own mechanical pets. For example, a couple of resplendent glass-like birds rested on a tree, while nearby a teenager played fetch with a titanium dog.

Despite the competition, Lucky effortlessly stole their hearts due to his cute and gorgeous appearance and intelligent behavior. Ves eagerly handed off his cat to Lanie to let the kids get to know his pet.

He smiled as the kids carried Lucky to a nearby playground. Ves used to be one of them. In happier times, he played with his fellow cousins and dreamed about piloting a mech.

"How times change." He sighed, and turned to find someone to talk to. "There must be someone here who knows what went on in the raid against the rebels."

As he walked deeper inside the courtyard, he spotted many relatives. Some were related to him by blood while others had married into the family. The latter earned the same status as the former as long as they carried the Larkinson name. The Larkinsons didn't make a big deal out of everyone's pedigree like they did at some of the more hierarchical families.

A couple of aunties sat on a creaking wooden bench. Even as they gossiped, they carefully watched over the children.

To the side, a dozen elders leisurely sipped their teas as they exchanged the same old war stories. Most of them looked harmless, but appearances were deceiving.

Closer to the central hall, a sizable gathering of teenagers and young adults surrounded a projection of an action-packed mech duel. They cheered and supported their favorite duelists when they appeared on stage.

He finally spotted an authoritative looking man in uniform watching from the porch. Ves briskly strode forth and reached the man as he gazed at the entire courtyard.

"Hi Maeser."

"It's good to see you Ves." The man greeted his nephew with a hug. "You've created quite a stir. Imagine your grandfather's face when he picked up his data pad one day and read the Rimward Star Herald. An interview with the renowned Herald definitely caught us off-guard. You're kind of a big deal now."

Ves couldn't suppress his grin. He finally starting turning the Larkinsons around. "It's been a challenging journey so far, but I couldn't have done it without my father."

The mood turned melancholic once he mentioned his still-missing father. Maeser Larkinson turned to Ves and stared at him with a measuring gaze.

"The patriarch told me they found traces of your father. Ryncol is keeping very dangerous company these days. We aren't sure of anything, but there are several indications that suggest he's still alive and well."

"Is grandpa around?"

"The minister recalled him to take part in an emergency session. I bet it's about the recent attack on the BLM. Nasty buggers, all of them. I'm glad we finally stomped on their faces for once."

The patriarch of the family was his grandfather Benjamin. Besides taking charge of the entire family, he also worked as an advisor at the Ministry of Defense. His current position brought a lot of prestige to the Larkinsons, though the workload also took a toll on him sometimes.

"Don't worry Ves. The patriarch will be back in time for the celebration. By then you can ask him about your father's whereabouts."

Ves really hoped he could hear some good news for once. He really missed his father.

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His first day back at the Larkinson Compound reminded him why family mattered. About seventy different relatives gathered around in a dining hall that could more than two hundred people. Many wives, children and elders settled into their seats.

Ves was one of few young men of working age present in the gathering. Only a couple of other nephews matches his age. They were mostly mech cadets if they were potentates and regular cadets if they were not.

The Larkinsons possessed a fairly strong aptitude for piloting mechs. A military family like theirs with several hundred years of history of piloting mechs built up a very robust foundation in their genes.

What distinguished families like theirs from the rest was that the chances of obtaining an acceptable aptitude was very high. Through the use of targeted fertilization techniques and various other methods to induce the right genes, around seventy percent of all the kids could expect to become a potentate when they reached ten years old.

It made the ones like Ves who failed their aptitude tests feel like they've let down their parents. Some could never get over the shame. Luckily, the Larkinsons were generous and they went out of their way to keep the norms feel welcome.

As a mech designer, he sat at a table with all the other norms. Their table might be a little less extravagant, but no one said a word of complaint. The mech pilots who bravely risked their lives deserved their due. And unlike many other people, the Larkinsons who tested positive always served in the Mech Corps instead of settling for the reserves.

Once everyone took their seats, one of the elders stood up. Ves easily recognized his grand-uncle Ovrin Larkinson, the brother of the patriarch. The man had a wheezy voice due to some severe scarring that he never bothered to remove for some reason or another.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm glad to see you've all arrived. We are still expecting a couple of family members, but by and large we will only be celebrating the new year with half of our usual numbers."

The mood turned somber at Ovrin's foreboding words. "The Bright Republic has been generous with us in good times. Now that ill times are upon us, it is time to reciprocate their care by dedicating our lives to the state that nurtured us from birth."

Even the rowdiest kids agreed with his words. Every Larkinson had been brought up to appreciate the Republic.

Those who disagreed for one reason or another chose to leave the Larkinsons and take up another family name. This usually occurred when the children of fallen heroes blamed the family and the Republic for driving their parents away from them too soon. This was why the Larkinsons never numbered more than two hundred people even after many years of prosperity.

"Now, we have several announcements to make. First, with the onset of war, I can imagine that some of you might wish to relocate. If you don't mind parting with your friends and neighbors, you can take up residence in our compound."

Some of the Larkinsons sighed in relief at the offer. No one expected the prelude to war to be so dangerous. A terrorist attack could happen at any place and any time outside of Rittersberg.

Ovrin continued on with his second announcement. "Next, we'd like to bring the young ones to a tour of the capital. Some of you have never stepped foot in Rittersberg before. You'll be missing out on a lot of fun if you've never seen the Eternal Lighthouse, the Republican Assembly or the Founding Flag."

Some of the four to seven year old kids cheered with delight. Lanie, who still kept hold of a hapless Lucky, cheered with her distant cousins even though she grew up in Rittersberg.

"Finally, I'd like to bring a promising young man to everyone's attention. None of us has ever thought he could make it, but Ves has established a nascent mech workshop that is completely independent."

Uh oh. It sounded like his grand-uncle was talking about Ves. He adopted a nervous smile as everyone's eyes started to scrutinize his dashing form. His recent genetic touch-ups along with his expensive antigrav wardrobe drastically improved his image.

Last year he turned up to the celebration as an average student with no accomplishments. This time he looked like a consummate professional or a successful entrepreneur who already made it big. Ves started to enjoy the appreciative stares he received from his uncles and aunts.

"He has already achieved many notable accomplishments such as entering the finals in one of the Young Tigers Exhibition's sub-tournaments. Not only that, he profoundly impressed the entire star sector when he travelled all the way to Coalition space and won and even bigger competition! Everyone, please give Ves a round of applause!"

Many Larkinsons stood up and clapped. Ves saw that most of his relatives wished him well, but some appeared to be harboring ulterior motives. Only a couple of Larkinsons looked grumpy, but Ves never got along with them anyway.

Uncle Ovrin quickly ended his little speech for the night. Everyone started to dig in including Ves. He filled his plate with steak along with some some yummy vegetable couscous. The Larkinsons employed a professional chef among other staff.

An uncle who sat close to Ves started to strike up a conversation. "So Ves. How is life as a mech designer treating you?"

"It's a lot more difficult than I expected. My father and I started up a business with our own efforts. I'm saddled with a lot of debt at the moment."

"Ah, the perils of running a business. In this day and age, it's rare to see a man like you succeed where many mech designers have failed."

"I'm a lucky man. My father did most of the work before he disappeared. I only picked up where he left off."

His answer was short on details. Ves didn't care, as he felt he already said enough in his recent interview with the Herald.

His uncle pressed on. "Surely you're receiving help from somewhere. I can't imagine your little mech business is able to stay erect without some form of backing. What kind of help did you enlist, and how much did it cost?"

"My answer hasn't changed." Ves reiterated while he took a bite out of his juicy steak. "My father funded our initial investments by taking a boring loan from a small-time planetary bank. He also spent a lot of effort getting in touch with a grant institution from the New Rubarth Empire. The production licences I received from them are old and nearly outdated."

Frankly, he started to grow annoyed at his uncle's persistent questioning. Was he working for an intelligence agency or something? Regardless of the truth, Ves considered his uncle to be a pest and stopped responding to his asinine inquiries.

"I was just asking." He moaned. Who was he anyway? Ves never learned his name even as he spotted his face from time to time. "You should loosen up some more and share some of your bounty. Us norms should stick together and give each other a hand. I've got two mouths to feed back at home."

"Three if you count your wife."

The man harrumphed. "She can take care of herself."

The conversation slowly shifted away from Ves. The people around the table discussed their own ventures and how the recent unrest disrupted their lives.

"I can't imagine what is going on in the heads of those who joined the BLM. There's no way that Bentheim can stand alone. Even if our Republic is beaten back, the Vesians aren't going to miss the opportunity to snap them up. Everyone who lives in Bentheim needs to stop polluting their minds with credits and develop some common sense."

Half of the Larkinsons at this table had never moved away from Rittersberg. They all grew up on this opulent planet. Like many locals, they developed a superiority complex to the point where they considered the rest of the Bright Republic to be a backwards territory. For example, they still considered Bentheim to be a second-class system filled with greedy merchants.

A mature looking aunt added an important fact. "If I recall, Ves here lives right next to the Bentheim System. If anyone knows what the rebels are up to, it's someone like him."

Most of the norms turned to Ves. Forced on the spot again, he hesitated for a bit before trying to explain the many grievances Bentheimers held. Sadly, none of them fully understood how much the citizens of the port system disliked the policies imposed by Rittersberg.

"It's par for the course for Bentheim to share their massive wealth." His annoying uncle interjected. "We've invested a lot of manpower and resources to build up the Bentheim System into one of the star sector's premiere launching points into alien space. We've facilitated most of their contracts with the Common Fleet Alliance."

Many Larkinsons nodded in agreement. Ves did not even try to convince them otherwise. Without visiting Bentheim in the flesh, these idiots would continue to cling on to their prejudices.

Once the waiters served dessert, Ves quickly finished his ice cream and left the table as soon as possible. He couldn't stand their presence any longer.

Before he departed, he briefly approached the kids table. "How are you doing Lucky?"

The cat turned to Ves with a glare and actually hissed at him. The nerve of the cat!

"I gave Mr. Lucky here a bath earlier. He smells really good now!" Lanie chirped with a grin. The other little girls started to giggle as well. "Can I keep him?"

"Ah, I think it's best if I take him back for a time." He said while scooping a rose-scented gem cat from their table. "Don't worry, we're not going anywhere. You'll have plenty of opportunities to play with him for the rest of the week."

The kids took it well enough, which was good since Lucky clearly needed some time alone. Ves brought his pet away and walked outside. As Rittersberg's sun started to fade over the horizon, Ves took a seat at a nearby games table. A half-finished game of neo-chess laid abandoned and forgotten.

He worried about his father. Was he still alive? Where did he go? What kind of crowd did he hang out with? Ves hoped his father didn't have to suffer too much on his behalf when he passed the Mech Designer System onto Ves.

"Good evening Ves." Ovrin greeted him and took a seat at the other end of the chess table. "Do you want to play?"

"No thanks. I've never spent much time with the classics."

"It's a shame you missed out. We often teach the game to our young potentates in order to develop their sense of strategy."

As a norm, Ves missed out on a lot of things. He used to be jealous of his fellow cousins, but now that he stood on his own, he let go of his resentments. It all seemed petty now that he looked back.

"Why are you here, Ovrin?"

The old man took a deep breath. "The elders recently came together to discuss your rise, as it were. Your rapid career advancement took us all by surprise. It made us reconsider our treatment of you. While you are still young, you already capable of wielding a substantial amount of influence."

Ovrin had a point. His niece Melinda might be a capable mech pilot, but she only earned a modest salary. Ves on the other hand earned millions of profits with each single sale. While he still had to worry about the rising cost of raw materials and invest in newer assets, it was undeniably true that mech designers simply earned more.

He even suspected that his income soon dwarfed the family's top earners.

"So what are you suggesting, grand-uncle?"

"Ah, young ones. So impatient." The old man sighed. "Alright, let me get to the point. We'd like to invite you to our steering committee. As a budding mover and shaker, you deserve a place among us."

Every Larkinson who mattered joined the steering committee. The influential committee decided many things, such as the rules and the budget. They were also in charge of rendering judgement when a Larkinson had gone astray. Furthermore, they also approved marriages when they haven't arranged them already.

The offer genuinely surprised Ves. He always expected to join the steering committee eventually, just not this soon. Perhaps something else was behind this premature offer. Ves considered his options.

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Ves spent the next two days in a leisurely fashion. He played with the kids and awed them with his mechanical skill by cobbling together a few toys. It truly warmed his heart to make his cousins giggle and laugh.

Besides amusing himself, he also caught up with the news when he talked to the more informed elders. Now that he joined the Larkinson Family's steering committee, he received access to their modest database and intelligence network. He already skimmed through the most recent files, but they only painted a scattered picture of current events.

Even the Larkinsons suspected that there were other influences at work. The amount of pirates and rebels rampaging through the entire star sector appeared to be too numerous and well-funded to be a homegrown phenomenon.

Despite these indications, the Bright Republic focused most of its efforts on the upcoming conflict with its irreconcilable neighbor. No matter what outsiders were up to, the Republic had to beat back the Vesia Kingdom first before worrying about the bigger picture.

The Kingdom happened to be a little bit larger and wealthier than the Republic. They owed most of their superiority due to possessing two port systems, which greatly extended their reach and shrunk their supply lines. Unfortunately for the Vesians, their port systems were poorly located and had little strategic value other than a convenient relay to ships looking to transit elsewhere.

"The Vesians have always been jealous at how much trade is diverted to the Bentheim System." Ves concluded. The upcoming war would likely revolve around trying to conquer the Bentheim System. "Cloudy Curtain shouldn't attract too much attention, but it will definitely be in the line of fire at some point."

In fact, throughout the wars, when the Vesians succeeded in punching through the border, they often occupied the surrounding territories. An underdeveloped system like Cloudy Curtain only merited a tiny occupation force. They usually swept away the gangs and ensured none of the locals tried anything funny while their main forces proceeded to siege the Bentheim System.

Sadly, it appeared the Vesians made ample preparations this time.

"The Kingdom is actually grappling with fewer unrest than us." Elder Ovrin explained. "Their control over their society is much stricter than ours. More importantly, the so-called nobles and the royals actually came to a rare agreement to put down most of their disputes and focus their animosity onto us."

Ves frowned at the news. "The dysfunctional rivalry between the nobles and the royal family is the only reason why the Vesians have never fought at their best in the past few wars."

"Oh don't worry about that Ves. They can draft up a fancy paper all they want. Whether the Vesians will actually stick to it is another question."

"Still, it's rather uncharacteristic for the Vesians to shake hands and get along with each other. The nobles always wanted to depose the royal family and rule their state as a council. The monarchs always wanted to strip the nobles of their private armies. Their interests simply don't align."

"We have reason to believe the secret agreement is imposed by the same outside force that's been stirring the star sector. Their influence is substantial, but I don't think they fully realize how quickly the Vesian nobles are willing to stab each other in the back."

Both of them shared a knowing look. The Vesians were capable of fielding a terrible army, but they always screwed up in terms of leadership. In comparison, the Bright Republic usually exerted competent leadership even if its soldiers weren't as hardened.

"Whatever the case, we expect the different factions to abide by the agreement for a year at the very least. Your home system is at risk if their offensive breaks through our lines. Are you sure you don't want to relocate your assets?"

He seriously weighed the choice, but eventually shook his head. "I think my father made his home on Cloudy Curtain for a reason. I don't want to let go of what he left behind."

"Fair enough. You're a Larkinson like the rest of us. I'm glad you're brave, but I'm not certain whether you are expressing it in the right moment."

The conversation went nowhere, so Ves changed the topic. "When will the steering committee convene?"

"The patriarch will return tomorrow. We'll hold a special session in order to induct you in our ranks. We'll also discuss next year's budget among other administrative decisions."

"Not a lot of Larkinsons have come this year. Will it be okay to hold a meeting with more than half of the committee in active duty?"

"Oh, it's mostly a matter of routine." Ovrin waved away the question. "Anything that requires a discussion has already been addressed. Besides some technicalities, we've already settled on the major points."

It sounded like the latest session before the new year celebration was just a last-minute check. Now that Ves joined their circle, he got to know that the Larkinsons owned a modest business empire on Rittersberg that earned the family about fifty million credits a year.

That might not sound like much compared to his own activities, but they were stable businesses. Ves knew more than anyone else how volatile and innovative the mech market could be. In contrast, the Larkinson Trust Fund invested in a number of hotels, apartments and other real estate that always maintained a stable stream of profits.

"We're starting to bolster our pension fund in preparation for the worst. It's always better to get on top of them instead of catching up to it afterwards."

Both of them grimaced a bit. The pension fund kept the widows and orphans clothed and fed. If the steering committee proactively put more money in its pot, then that meant they expected that not every Larkinson might survive the war.

Ves spent a moment to worry about the lives of those he cared about. Most of the Larkinsons were acquaintances to him, but certain relatives such as Uncle Ark or his cousin Melinda earned a special place in his heart.

After another day of fun and relaxation, the entire planet took on a festive cheer. A large amount of construction bots transformed the city of Varleton into a festive paradise full of blinking blue lights and streamers in order to complement the Republic's national color.

The smarter Larkinsons noted that the Republic spent a little more effort in this year's party. The government wanted to reassure its citizens by projecting strength and instilling pride.

The patriarch finally returned in the morning. His reinforced aircar actually arrived at the compound with a modest escort of mechs and infantry fighting vehicles.

The mechs quickly flew away once Benjamin stepped out, but the infantry remained and started to collaborate with the compound's existing security force.

"Alright everyone, I'm back!" He announced and sent out a command through his comm that alerted every committee member. "We convene in an hour. Don't be late!"

As a newcomer, Ves had to go through a process before he formally became a member of the committee. First, the Larkinsons confirmed his identity and sampled his hair, blood and other biological material in order to facilitate future checks.

Then, he had to sign a pile of documents. They mostly formalized his rights and obligations to the Larkinsons. He also had to sign some NDA's that forced him to keep quiet about the family's more sensitive matters. All of the paperwork was fairly standard so Ves didn't object.

Once they finished the formalities, the committee entered a lengthy square stairway that went deep underground. Ves initially expected to descend a couple of floors, but everyone kept walking down the steps in a monotonous fashion. Only after an estimated two hundred meters of walking did they reach an underground hall.

The hall resembled a temple in its stateliness and atmosphere. Many banners hung from the arches that extended from the walls and ceilings. Most of them depicted the Bright Republic's iconic torch and the Larkinson's iceberg crest.

When Ves walked past the golden double doors, he suddenly realized he entered an elevated section of the hall. Everyone adopted solemn faces as they started to take their seats on the cold, stone benches.

"Ves."

"Grandfather?" He turned to Benjamin. "What's in the middle?"

"Our history." The old man replied, and gently guided him forward. "

He recognized the Valiant. The first ancestor of the Larkinsons personally piloted the iconic heavy knight and earned the recognition of the young Republic. The mech was a piece of living history. Its scarred and broken appearance hinted at a story filled with bitter struggle.

Ves choked on his breath once he scrutinized his ancestor's steed in the perspective of a mech designer. Somehow, the ancient mech radiated an aura that tingled his X-Factor senses. The mech not only appeared to be a custom job, its rich experiences somehow enhanced its X-Factor beyond anything else he had ever designed before.

Could the Valiant actually possess an X-Factor of B or higher? His brain started to churn as he tried to recall his ancestor's story. Who designed the Valiant, and what was his relationship to his ancestor?

His grandfather suddenly bumped his back. "Ves. I'm sure the Valiant is interesting, but we have business to discuss."

"I'm sorry. I forgot myself for a moment. It's a magnificent mech. I'm lucky to see it up close."

While his grandfather approached the podium at the front, Ves took a seat at the bench closest to the mech. Despite the importance of this gathering, Ves forgot all about the steering committee and focused his entire attention on the incredible mech in front of him. He tried to turn on his comm, only to find out it fizzled out.

"Damn. The family is sure being dramatic." He muttered under his breath.

The austere underground hall was surrounded by many layers of insulating material that hindered virtually every kind of handheld broadcast equipment. Various other security measures prevented any electronic device from activating and recording the proceedings.

Once everyone took their seats, the patriarch banged his fist against a special plate that cut through the chatter. "I hereby announce the start of our annual end-of-year session!"

His grandfather started to follow through the usual rituals. Every Larkinson including Ves offered some tribute to the Larkinson ancestor. They then memorialized the Larkinsons who died in the line of duty. Ves noted that the ritual explicitly excluded those who didn't die on the battlefield.

Strange.

Next, the patriarch addressed their last year's agenda and summarized the results. It turned out the family recently invested a lot of effort into advancing the careers of their younger mech pilots. The committee wanted them to be in the best position to fight the Vesians and come back alive.

As Ves listened to the various means in which they befriended and even bribed certain officers, he realized how much of an old boys' club the Mech Corps turned out to be. Every commanding officer in charge of a division, regiment or battalion wielded a wide range of autonomy. Getting onto their good sides insured they never mistreated the Larkinsons serving in their ranks.

After half an hour of dry reports, his grandfather finally raised a subject directly related to Ves.

"Many of you are already familiar with our very own mech designer." Benjamin said while everyone turned their gazes to Ves. This time he bore the scrutiny like a pro. "Some of us have considered a couple of proposals in light of his future potential. Ves, tell me your thoughts on the following."

His grandfather started off with a bang. "We'd like to purchase some stock in your business activities. If you're not opposed to the measure, we are willing to divert a portion of our trust fund to build up a stake in your venture once you incorporate your business."

The proposal completely caught Ves by surprise. "How much?"

"I think it's fair for the both of us if you give us a twenty-five percent stake for 500 million credits."

His heart almost skipped a beat when he heard the sum. Almost every other committee member looked shocked. No one imagined that his grandfather or whoever audited his business valued his small and risky startup at around two billion credits.

The Larkinsons relied on its massive trust fund built up over centuries to provide for everyone's pensions. Five-hundred million credits represented a substantial chunk of its liquid assets.

While many of the Larkinsons thought the price was too high, Ves instead thought the opposite. Considering his accelerated career advancement, his future business might become a lot more valuable than a couple of billion credits. As long as he had the System, his future was bright.

"I accept." Ves quickly decided. Despite the gross undervaluation, he didn't wish to act like a greedy toad like that obnoxious uncle he met a few days ago. He valued his family and wished for them to prosper alongside him. "I haven't set up a corporation yet. It's about time I did. I'll be glad to sell the family a twenty-five percent share. You won't regret it."

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Not everyone agreed to throw 500 million credits away on an extremely risky business venture. One of the elders stood up and spread his hands.

"I object!"

Ves recognized the skinny form of Third Dlder Raymond Billingsley-Larkinson. His physique resembled Ves' in that he had never trained his body to endure the rigors of piloting mechs. The elder should be someone who supervised the family's overall finances.

"Let him speak!" Grandfather Benjamin forcefully spoke, causing everyone to shut their mouths.

"Thank you Patriarch. According to our analysis, while Ves has cleared the first hurdle and is able to manufacture mechs, his business is not in an ideal position to sustain his current level of profitability. He is far too young and his assets are already depreciating very hard."

Since the third elder dared to talk about his business directly, Ves felt obliged to respond. "Elder Raymond, you are overstating the risks and exaggerating the costs. I have worked hard this past six months to kickstart my mech business to the point where I am able to sustain a single production line. Last month, I fabricated eight whole mechs and earned a gross profit of sixty million credits!"

Sixty million credits! The Larkinson Trust Fund had to wait an entire year before it could accumulate such a sum. Ves on the other hand only required a single month! Every committee member had to suppress their excitement.

"You've already peaked!" Elder Raymond retorted with a slam of his palm. "Any market analyst is able to predict that you won't be able to sustain your current level of profits! Resource costs are rising and your production licences are about to become irrelevant in a couple of years. Might I remind everyone that a relatively affordable production licence can easily cost around two billion credits!"

Two billion credits! Many committee members gulped when they heard the sum. The business savvy people among them confirmed Raymond's assertion.

"The mech industry is characterized by high risks and high returns. What I mean by that is that you can easily earn a fortune today but get utterly ruined tomorrow! Don't be blinded by his current monthly income. It's merely a snapshot of his peak. With just the meager amount of capital he has on hand, he's unable to ramp up his production and earn enough profit to finance the acquisition of an up-to-date production license!"

The mood started to turn against the decision to invest in a stake. While Ves actually benefited financially in the long run if he kept hold of every share, he disliked being painted as a foolhardy boy. He had his own pride.

"Elder Raymond, you have not taken my growth into account. I am apprenticed to a renowned Master Mech Designer from the Coalition. My current level of operations is but a springboard to designing a completely original mech. I am confident that my level of skill will grow to the point where I can design a viable original mech. I don't need to license an expensive complete design in that case. At most, I'll have to licence up to one billion credits worth of component licences."

His words sounded ambitious! No one ever thought Ves planned to design a completely original mech. Even the most boorish mech pilots among the crowd knew how difficult such a project must be.

Mech designers who designed variants were a dime in a dozen. Those who graduated beyond that point and designed a mech without any existing reference points deserved admiration from everyone. If the Larkinsons brought up their own real mech designer, the family might be able to achieve a new level of prominence!

Grandfather Benjamin had enough of the back-and-forth. "Alright, pipe down everyone! This is a solemn committee meeting. We are here to decide the future of the Larkinson family. Do not disgrace yourself in front of our ancestor's Valiant."

The thought of showing their shameful sides to the Valiant abhorred the devoted Larkinsons. The temperature cooled down through Benjamin's intervention, allowing both Ves and Raymond to cool their minds.

"We are approaching a decisive moment of history." The patriarch continued in a level tone. "Our fates are tied to the Bright Republic, which isn't looking too healthy these days. Anything might happen in the future. In order to provide against contingencies, we need to hedge our bets."

Everyone sat still when Benjamin started to paint a grim picture of the future. Ves tried to keep his head sober. He belatedly realized that Benjamin soothed the committee members into accepting the decision to acquire a stake in Ves' mech business. Raymond didn't even get a chance to retort.

"Please raise your hand if you approve the previously raised proposal!"

Well over two-thirds ultimately raised their hands. Ves noticed that Benjamin bought over almost all of the potentates. The norms on the other hand glared resentfully at Ves. Why did someone like Ves deserved a 500 million credit investment while their own enterprises barely scraped by?

Elder Raymond shook his head. While he still disagreed, he knew where the wind was blowing so he ceased his protests and quietly backed down.

The rest of the meeting turned largely inconsequential to Ves. Instead, he resumed his study of the ancient heavy knight and its extremely potent aura. After all, it wasn't every day he chanced upon a mech that set his X-Factor senses on fire. He eagerly wished the meeting would drag on so that he could make the most of this rare exposure to the historic mech.

Once his grandfather ended the session, everyone started to leave the hall. Ves dragged his feet because he still hadn't cracked the secret to the Valiant's abnormally strong X-Factor. He almost wanted to ask his grandfather to pass him some food and water and lock him inside!

Surprisingly, Benjamin asked Ves to stay behind, but not because of the valiant. Instead, his grandfather finally wished to talk about his missing father.

A couple of other elders stayed behind, including grand-uncle Ovrin and uncle Maeser. Ves guessed that his grandfather must have gathered the family's inner circle.

The constant waiting grated on Ves. "Can you finally tell me where my father has been spotted?"

"You best sit back for this little cousin." Maeser warned as he placed his hand on Ves' shoulder. "It's very complicated. From what little we managed to gather, it isn't looking pretty."

Grandfather Benjamin tentatively nodded. "Let's begin where we first found signs of Ryncol. Have you heard of the Nyxian Gap?"

"Isn't that a massive asteroid field filled with a loads of environmental hazards?"

"It's also located at the fringes of the Komodo Star System. With a decent enough FTL drive, you can springboard from the Gap to the neighboring Majestic Teal and Vicious Mountain star sectors."

In other words, lots of pirates along with every other kind of scum could be found in the Gap. The massive number of asteroids trapped in the warped gravitic environment provided pirates with the perfect hiding spots.

"To cut the story short, one of our sources has snapped an image of him at a busy market in the infamous Three Spokes Pirate Station."

The hall prohibited electronics from working, so Benjamin simply handed Ves a shiny printout. When Ves accepted the page, he stared at a somewhat grainy image of his father in the company of a band of menacing people.

"Are those pirates?" Ves hesitated to ask.

"Not quite. Our source has managed to learn that they call themselves the Cobra Cadavers. They appear to be a dark mercenary corps. We haven't found any other traces of the Cadavers in our archives, but they appear to be too seasoned to be a newly established group."

The findings astounded Ves. Cobra Cadavers? They sounded extremely ominous.

Measar, who sat next to Ves, shrugged his shoulders. "I almost couldn't believe it either when I first heard about it. We did some more digging until we finally managed to uncover more details. It appears that every member of the Cobra Cadavers are being hunted down by a shadowy organization called the Five Scrolls Compact."

His family introduced yet another unfamiliar name to Ves. "I can't say I've heard about them. They sound like serious business."

"I've had some dealings with the Five Scrolls Compact." Benjamin said with a very grim face. "The Compact is galaxy-wide cult of alien worshippers and doomsday lunatics. Even the Republic isn't clear of their goals, but from what we can tell, they've infiltrated every corner of human space."

When Ves asked a couple of questions about the Compact, none of the Larkinsons could actually explain what the Five Scrolls Compact actually did. Benjamin only heard rumors about data theft, brainwashing and nuking planets. The Compact definitely didn't play according to the rules.

Benjamin explained his suspicions. "We believe your father somehow incurred the wrath of this bunch of crazies. In order to avoid implicating you, he cut off all ties and fled to the Nyxian Gap. Even a massive cult like the Five Scrolls Compact can't hope to find a needle in this massive, spread-out haystack."

"If this secretive cult is after my father, why haven't they kidnapped me?" Ves worriedly asked. "They can easily nab me from my home in Cloudy Curtain if they wish."

"It's because the Mech Trade Association will hunt them down if they show up in civilized space." His grandfather answered. "The cultists all possess abnormal genes. Even if they cover up their faces, they can't hope to pass a security check."

The power of the MTA deterred every single state and organization from breaking its rules. Its military might was only second to the Common Fleet Alliance that collectively took charge of defending humanity's borders. Ves believed wholeheartedly in the MTA's ability to punish Five Scrolls Compact if they ever showed up.

Despite this security, Ves still worried about the reason why his father earned the Compact's ire. Did they know about the Mech Designer System? Even worse, had they created it in the first place?

Ves tentatively ruled out the possibility. If the Five Scrolls Compact paid some attention to his meteoric career, they must have realized that he used the System. For something valuable like that, they'd throw all caution to the wind and overwhelm the entire Bright Republic in order to take back their treasure.

Furthermore, he didn't think his father would do something stupid by handing over the System without expecting it to be left in a closet. Ryncol surely predicted that Ves made use of it in order to fulfill his dream of becoming a mech designer. If the System wasn't safe to use, his father would have never handed it over to Ves.

The original owners of the System must be some other organization then. As long as Ves did not do anything too outlandish and attract too much attention, the hapless owners wouldn't be able to distinguish him from other geniuses.

Ves resolved to invest more resources into increasing his security and anonymity. He already mentally patted himself on his back for acquiring the anonymizer stamp from the System's Store.

After the other Larkinsons expressed their views, his grandfather smiled at Ves. "No matter what your father is planning, I'm confident he'll be able to roll with the punches. Ryncol has always been a scrappy one. The Nyxian Gap is a region of untold danger, but not to him. He'll be able to cling on to his life if nothing else."

The meeting ended in a somewhat depressing note. At the very least, the inner circle didn't blame his father for pissing off a galactic cult of dangerous weirdos. They unconditionally supported Ves and his father and didn't hesitate to offer some assistance.

Ovrin approached Ves after everyone started to walk up the stairway. "Ves? A moment please."

"What's the matter?"

"In light of the threats arrayed against you, we'd like to take some precautions. When you return home, we'll arrange a pair of mechs piloted by anyone who is available to accompany you on your journey. They'll be in charge of you and your workshop's safety from now on."

An actual mech escort sounded very welcome to Ves, but he hesitated a bit once he realized his grand-uncle wished to man the mechs with full-blooded Larkinsons.

"Shouldn't every able-bodied Larkinson be serving in the Mech Corps at this time?"

Ovrin smiled ruefully. "Every family has their misfits. There are certain elements in our younger generation who can't quite fit in a military outfit. Don't worry too much. The Larkinsons I have in mind are capable mech pilots."

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Ves reluctantly left the underground hall at Ovrin's insistence. While he really wished to study the venerable Valiant extensively, the hall was a sacred place. The Valiant also had its best days behind it. In order to preserve the heavy knight, the space needed to subjected to a host of preservation routines such as reducing its gravity and pumping in some special gas.

Though he hadn't studied the Valiant long enough to uncover all of its secrets, he hadn't left without a harvest.

As they ascended the extremely lengthy stairway, Ovrin asked him a question.

"Do you know why your grandfather pushed through the proposal to invest in your company?"

"Is the family in trouble?"

"We are tied to the fate of the Bright Republic. What will happen if it falls one day?"

They'd be miserable beyond belief. As a quintessential military family who served the Republic for many generations, they could never find shelter in a neighboring state. No one would trust the Larkinsons if they discarded their oaths.

Ves understood his intentions now. "You're using me as an escape route."

In essence, the Larkinsons wanted to take advantage of his enviable relations with a venerable Master Mech Designer. As her apprentice in name, Ves could vouch for his family and facilitate their relocation to the Vermeer Group.

If Master Olson possessed a heart, she wouldn't object to saving his family. Most likely, such considerations were beneath her notice.

"It's merely a contingency." Ovrin added. "There are multiple considerations involved with the decision to invest in your company. Depending on your performance, you'll become a vital pillar to us in the future. Think of our initial investment as an expression of goodwill."

"Goodwill huh." Ves internally smirked. If the Larkinsons wished to show some actual sincerity, then they should have only settled for a one percent stake. "I'm open to collaboration, but I'd like to remain in charge."

"You're still the majority owner, so we won't quibble with the way you run your business. While there are some who think you're not up to the task, as long as you are able to deliver positive results, they won't be able to pull any tricks."

According to the Republic's laws, a minority shareholder was entitled to several rights. Even Ves couldn't block them from being a nuisance if they wished to. Fortunately, he still possessed an ample majority. As long as he didn't give them up, he'd never have to submit to someone else's orders.

When Ves returned to his guest room, Lucky jumped from his perch and brushed his body against his owner's legs.

"Haha, I told you I'd be back."

As Ves sat on his bed, he considered everything he learned today. First, his fears that his father met an unfortunate end was abated. Even if his father had to cut all of his ties and live like a rat, he still retained his life.

"My father is tougher than anyone. He won't be fazed by the pirates lurking in the Nyxian Gap. The Five Scrolls Compact on the other hand sounds like real trouble."

Any organization that extended its reach across the galaxy had to be a pinnacle organization. If the mighty Mech Trade Association and the Common Fleet Alliance couldn't eliminate the Compact, then Ves absolutely couldn't underestimate them. He still wondered why the Compact hadn't threatened him yet.

His logic told him that the conflict between the Compact and his father had no relations to the System. Something as miraculous as the System warranted an immediate and overwhelming response once they figured out that Ves made use of it.

If the Compact wasn't after the System, why were they targeting his father in the first place?

"I don't have enough information." He concluded. He could speculate all he wanted, but he couldn't act on them without proof. "The intelligence we've gathered is also a little sketchy. I can't put too much trust in second or third-hand sources."

In order to corroborate what he heard, he opened his comm and visited the Clifford Society's online portal. This time, he didn't bother entering its virtual world. Instead, he opened an online archive and tried to find what the Society knew about the Compact.

Nothing. Ves couldn't find anything at his level of jurisdiction. His search results happily noted that it found mention of the Five Scrolls Compact in three different documents, but he would only be able to read them if he reached the master level.

Master level! A Master Mech Designer is not a cabbage that you could find on the road!

The insane level of jurisdiction required to read about the Compact spoke for itself. This must be an extremely formidable organization that not even the Friday Coalition wished to provoke.

The lack of information made any further speculation useless. For now, Ves had to focus on growing his strength. Just because the Compact hadn't done anything to Ves didn't mean they might change their mind later on. If some shadowy cult started to threaten his life, he wanted to be ready to fight back.

Instead, he used the rest of the day to ponder the puzzle that was the Valiant. How could it surpass his own deliberate efforts to induce the X-Factor? The mech was several hundred years old. Had its original designer already become aware of this metaphysical element.

His search through the galactic net and in the steering committee's internal network yielded little results. The early days of the Bright Republic had been very tough. Many pirates and outside factions frequently preyed on the nascent Republic who still hadn't completely shed its pacifist leanings.

They were only able to turn the tide when they started to employ battle-hardened mercenaries. The first-generation Larkinson acquitted himself extremely well as a mercenary, so much so that the Republic rewarded him with land, status and citizenship.

The various archives described his ancestor's feats in excruciating detail. Ves already learned about his performance in battle when his father tutored him when he was still a kid.

After half an hour of searching, Ves gave up. "These stupid archives!"

None of the historic documents mentioned anything about where the Larkinson ancestor got his mechs. His fruitless search couldn't find a single mention of the mech designer who painstakingly tailored a custom mech for his ancestor. Someone like that must be a supreme existence, but Ves couldn't proceed without further clues.

Ves only had his observations to go on in his quest to unravel the secrets of the Valiant. For now, he only had a single bold guess.

When he looked at the Valiant, he got a sense of its history. His memories of what he read about the Larkinson ancestor's performance in battle came to the fore. It was as if the mech became the ancestor's living testament.

"It all comes down to life."

What if every mech started as a blank slate? What if these mechs were influenced by their experiences?

His perspective suddenly shifted. If mechs possessed life, then they were also capable of growth. Every life started as a newborn. At this stage they were weak and infirm. If nurtured properly, every life was capable blooming into an incomparable existence.

"A life is never static. They start off weak, but who can say they can't grow up to be giants?"

When Ves compared his gold label mechs to the Valiant, he got a sense that he was comparing a couple of toddlers to an elderly but grizzled veteran. Their strengths simply couldn't compare.

It begged the question whether the Valiant started off this strong. He very much doubted it. Its designer might have passed on some metaphysical traits, but most of the Valiant's aura had most likely been acquired later.

Did this mean that his own mechs might be capable of growth?

"Most likely not."

He never took growth into account when he passed on his intent to his design. They were designed to be strong at the very start. Ves never imagined that his mechs could strengthen its intrinsic X-Factor after he fabricated them. He was under the impression that the mechs were fixed at birth.

In the end, he blinded himself with his own assumptions. More specifically, he still looked at mechs as if they were machines. Before seeing the Valiant, he subconsciously assumed that he could manufacture a complete life.

So long as he manufactured the right inspirations, he could sharpen them into a purposeful intent that complemented his designs.

It completely ignored that life was capable of growing from their humble beginnings. Every newborn needed two things before it turned into a formidable existence.

First, they had to possess a good foundation. An ant remained an ant. Even the most ferocious ant could easily be stomped by a harmless human child.

Ves guessed that his current progress in the X-Factor fell under this category. His recent designs proved that he was capable of achieving a fairly rating according to the System. Nevertheless, he faintly thought that he came across a bottleneck. A moderate rating of C was the best he could achieve so far.

So how could he achieve a higher rating? He used to think he only had one avenue available, and that was to keep on strengthening the foundation. While this might ultimately be the correct path, Ves did not have a single clue on how to proceed. He was completely in the dark.

Now, he uncovered another path. While it might not lead to his initial destination, it nonetheless enlightened him to another aspect of the X-Factor. Now that he was aware of the previously hidden growth component, he could start to replicate the phenomenon in his own designs.

He repeatedly thanked his ancestor and the Valiant's mech designer. His trip to Rittersberg had been worth it for this lesson alone.

"It's time for dinner!"

Ves held onto Lucky and brought him along. "Let's go and celebrate."

The entire Larkinson Compound turned into a festive location. The holiday cheer infected all of the kids, who eagerly ran around with their little sparkling flags.

The cooks served up an extravagant feast for new year's eve. The estate even hired some musicians to put on a performance.

Later at night, the new year finally dawned. The entire sky lit up as fireworks loudly proclaimed the start of another year. Elaborate projections came into existence. They first displayed the Republican Torch before projecting a series of iconic images of the Republic's proudest moments.

Lucky meowed in confusion at the noise. He didn't know what to make of all the fireworks. Perhaps he thought the entire planet came under attack. Over time, his mechanical cat calmed down once he saw that no one panicked.

A grinning Lanie ran up to Ves and held out her arms. "Can I hold Lucky again?"

"Sure." He said, and handed off his cat.

The little girl giggled before scampering away with her prize. Ves smiled at her antics. His recent brainstorming caused his thoughts to wander. How would Little Lanie's life look like after a decade or two? Would she grow into a demure and stately lady, or would her upbringing shape her into a powerful amazon mech pilot?

"There is so much variation in life."

No one could predict the future. As Lanie belonged to the Larkinsons, she would surely lack for nothing. However she turned out, Ves hoped she didn't grow up with any regrets.

Throughout the night, the Republican Torch with its bright blue fire never dimmed. Every planet in the Republic's borders projected the same unyielding symbol. It carried the hope and ambition of the entire Bright Republic. No one wanted the Vesians to invade and despoil their precious planets.

The torch inspired everyone. They looked at the torch with sparkling eyes and imagined different dreams. The kids imagined taking up the torch one day. The adults resolved to fight for their loved ones. The elderly prayed their previous sacrifices had been enough.

As for Ves? His ambition was boundless.

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The Larkinson Compound's tranquility enamored Ves. Many times, he wondered if he could put down his work and spend the rest of his life in idle bliss. He already knew of a handful of relatives who ended up as a good-for-nothings that never amounted to anything in their lives.

Ves shook his head. "The galaxy is too dangerous to let my fate be entrusted in the hands of others."

Even the Larkinsons started scrambling for a safety net. In such dangerous times, Ves would be a fool to assume that business would be as usual.

The next day, Ves prepared to depart. He already packed his luggage and ate some breakfast with the early risers. After saying his farewells, he exited the dining hall and brought his luggage and Lucky to the front.

His new escorts awaited him there. They were both a little older than him and carried themselves with an air of overwhelming confidence.

"Hey. Are you the geek my grandpa assigned to be your guard?" A woman asked. She looked at him with a disdainful expression, no doubt filing him away as a twig she could snap in two at any time. "This duty is a gigantic waste of time. Why do I have to babysit this stupid pig? I'd rather go back to the arena!"

They already got off to a wonderful start. His niece obviously aspired to be a mech duelist. Generally, the Larkinsons disdained fighting for sport. They treated the art of piloting as a sacred duty only to be employed for righteous purposes.

To abandon some of your morals to fight for fame and fortune was to turn your back on your heritage. No wonder the family packed her off to Ves. A rural planet like Cloudy Curtain offered very little amenities in the area of mech sports. Let alone a team, it didn't even have a mech arena at all!

Ves ignored her glare and introduced himself. "My name is Ves Larkinson, and I'm a mech designer. You'll be accompanying me to Cloudy Curtain and hopefully keep me out of trouble. I hope we can work together for the betterment of the family."

The woman twirled her purple bangs and sneered at him. "You sound like grandpa Ovrin. Are you on meds or something? That's no way to talk to big sister Raella here!"

He could already feel a headache coming. Ves decided to tackle Raella later and turned to his second escort. The man stood quietly and watched their interaction with bemusement.

Unlike Raella who dressed like a punk out for a party, his male cousin dressed like an officer of the Mech Corps. From his straight-backed posture to his crew-cut hair, the man looked straight out of a military recruitment poster. Though he was taller than Raella, his muscles were wiry and compact. He also wore an electronic visor shaded in blue.

"Melkor Larkinson. Mech Pilot." The man answered when Ves kept staring at him. "I'm just here to fulfill my duty."

The visored Larkinson offered little else. Ves gave up on trying to be friendly and boarded the aircar reserved for all three. The vehicle zipped towards Kelnar's outskirts and reached the gigantic spaceport shaped like a crane after a quiet flight.

Many travellers had already arrived at the busy spaceport. The tourists and visitors finished celebrating the new year and had to go back to work. Ves, Raella and Melkor had to keep their floating luggage close in order to avoid bumping into the crowd.

After pushing their way forward, they reached their platform in the nick of time. The feather-shaped platform lifted off from the ground, carrying its passengers up to the air, whereupon a space-capable shuttle landed onto its surface.

The shuttle ascended into the sky and reached a familiar space station. The trio got to enjoy its elegant interior for a couple of hours until a passenger liner called the Greenwind arrived at the station. After the incoming passengers left the spacecraft, the trio boarded the ship along with the other outgoing passengers.

The Greenwind was the sister ship of the Vision of Asteria, which Ves previously rode to Rittersberg. He quickly settled into his room as the vessel slowly accelerated towards the system's nearest Lagrange point.

After waiting her turn, the Greenwind finally transitioned into FTL. Her long journey to Bentheim had just begun. The family already arranged a three bedroom suite. While his cousins settled into their rooms and brooded on their exile from Rittersberg, Ves wanted to spend his time more productively.

"Fun time is over. It's time to get back to work."

Ves wanted to accelerate his company's growth. The family already promised half a billion credits as soon as he registered his business as a corporation. Since all of his assets were back at Cloudy Curtain, he first had to return home before he could start the process.

In the meantime, the corporate lawyers employed by the Larkinsons already began to draft the paperwork. Ves knew little about the complexities involved with writing up the formal articles of incorporation. He gladly handed off the responsibility, though he also reminded himself to read over their work once the lawyers hammered out the details.

He already relayed his demands to the lawyers. For now, Ves wanted to keep it simple. He didn't wish to deal with a convoluted stock structure where one type of stock has ten times the voting rights of another stock.

He also didn't want to implement a bloated board of directors. For now, he settled with the absolute minimum. Since his company only had two shareholders, Ves could simply appoint himself as the chairman and his grandfather Benjamin as the only other director of the board.

It sounded a little sketchy, but his company didn't require any oversight. Despite the incredible sums involved with each transaction, Ves operated a very simple business. He only had one full-time employee so far. For now, Ves didn't trust anyone else to help run his company.

Since he couldn't do much about his matter, Ves turned to another matter he left by the wayside. "It's about time I do something with the scavenged Dortmund parts. Carlos should be able to fabricate a silver label Mark II by now."

Once his fabricator began to fulfill Marcella's orders, Ves could devote his complete attention on the reconstruction project. He already made good progress on drafting up a plan to restore the missing and broken parts.

He left the issue of hacking the salvaged processors for later. The matter required delicate handling at it wasn't exactly legal to mess around with the programming of an expensive industrial printer.

Ves pulled up a blueprint of the industrial printer and started to study it in detail.

Time flew by. Everyone settled in a routine. His two cousins slowly loosened up as the distance to Rittersberg increased. Perhaps it finally dawned on the pair that there was no turning back.

One day, Raella spontaneously approached Ves. "Can I hold him?"

She gestured to Lucky. The cat lounged on his desk next to his work terminal.

Even as Ves nodded his head, Lucky already jumped in her arms and started acting cute. Even a bitter woman like Raella got charmed by the gem cat's wiles. Ves and Melkor both scratched their heads when Raella acted identical to their little cousin Lanie. Did girls spontaneously lose half of their intelligence when faced with the cat?

"Huh. I never imagined fake pets like these could be so fun." She smiled. "It's a lot better than the stupid parrot my former team leader always paraded."

Her remark provided Ves with an opening. "So you already competed in the mech games?"

"Yup. Me and five of my BFFs formed a team ever since we graduated from the mech academy. We called ourselves the Wailing Witches. It's an awful name, now that I think about it. We must have been getting our rocks off with the good stuff when we registered the stupid name."

"How did you do in the arena?"

"Oh, we did okay." His niece responded as she sat down on a sofa and rested Lucky on her lap. "We frequently fought in the amateur circuit and slowly made a name for ourselves. The frequent battles took a toll on our allowances, but we improved by leaps and bounds. Going professional was just around the corner as far as our team was concerned."

"Obviously that didn't happen." Ves noted. "What went wrong?"

Raella's fury returned. "Our bitch of a team leader stabbed us in the back, that's what happened. Virma McCullen used to be the lynchpin of our circle of friends. She's actually something of a prodigy at the academy and one of the few who got sent to Rittersberg on a scholarship. She could have made it big in the Mech Corps, you know? But she befriended us instead and helped us climb up the ranks."

Ves had a good idea what went on now. "I take it that Virma couldn't cover the costs of maintaining a competition mech on her own."

"Right. The scholarship girl couldn't even pay the rent to her apartment in Kelsor. The rest of us had to beg our families in order to increase our allowance in order to cover her expenses."

"Didn't you earn enough from the amateur circuit?"

"Don't you know anything about mech sports?" Raella rolled her eyes. "The only way to break even or make a slight profit is if you pilot a cheap second-hand rust bucket. Unlike those losers who wallow in the bottom of the rankings, my friends and I wanted to compete in front of a crowd of billions. The only way to attract a sponsor and go professional is if you win."

"And the best way you can increase your win rate is if you pilot a good mech." Ves concluded. "I never knew the amateur circuit worked like that. How good were your mechs?"

"Oh, they're pretty decent for currentgen mechs. In fact, I'm bringing my competition mech along. It's a tough little light skirmisher. It doesn't pack a lot of punch, but in my hands I can sever the joints of any mech once I get close."

His niece actually licking her lips as if she still hungered for the taste of blood. "I'm one of the finishers, you see. Without me, our team would have a hard time finishing off the wounded mechs. I've gotten pretty good at my job."

"There were times when you almost totalled your mech." Melkor suddenly spoke up from the other side of the suite. The visored man smirked.

"Shut up, cuz!" Raella screeched, which scared the cat resting on her lap. "Oh, don't go baby! Shush now."

Melkor supplement the story. "Dear Raella and her little posse dreamed big. In actual fact, the Witches only performed above average. That's not to say she's bad. The competition in the amateur circuit at Rittersberg is very intense."

Raella obviously disagreed, but she didn't bother quibbling. "We were on the up and up! Everyone thought we'd be able to win over a sponsor in three years or less. We only needed to show we were still growing as a team. Everything went fine! I thought that nothing could stop our rise until Virma signed up with the Silver Chancellors!"

Even Ves had heard of the Silver Chancellors. As one of Rittersberg's premier mech teams, the Chancellors often showed off their prowess in the various leagues throughout the entire Republic. Bentheim often turned into a gigantic circus whenever the Chancellors played a match in one of their arenas.

"Did your team fall apart once your prodigy pilot left?" He asked with a puzzled expression. "Even though you're amateurs, you shouldn't be too far behind, right?"

Melkor suddenly laughed. "Raella never got the chance to prove she could make it without Virma. You see, she only found out about Virma's transfer after finishing their final match of the season. Our fiery little cousin got so worked up about it that she decided that she threw a fist into Virma's face. The arena even broadcasted it live!"

The former mech athlete adopted a sour face. "If I knew they'd tumble me out, I should have added in some kicks. That two-faced bitch could have never made it big without us!"

Obviously, Raella hadn't gotten over her forced retirement from the mech games. Ves couldn't do much to placate her anger. He could only hope that time could heal her wounds. After all, if he wanted to employ her as a guard, she better set her priorities straight.

There was more to life than the mech games. Perhaps a real life conflict might be able to kick her out of her slump. Ves didn't lack for enemies, after all.

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While Ves got to know Raella better, Melkor remained an enigma. Even though he suspected that Raella knew his story, his niece stubbornly shut her mouth when Ves sent out a probe.

"Melkor's story is his own to tell. I don't want to get on his bad side." Raella explained as she shuddered in an exaggerated fashion. "Watch out for the quiet ones."

Throughout the entire trip, Ves only gathered a couple of clues that shed a bit of light on Melkor. First, he hadn't shed the habit of comporting himself as a military officer at the start. He slowly stopped moving around in a rigid fashion when he drew too many eyes. A guard should not attract too much attention, after all.

Second, Melkor never withdrew his visor. Ves almost swore his older cousin even showered and slept with the visor on. Its large but sleek appearance signified its incredible origins. Ves hadn't even seen such a high-end gadget in the Bright Republic.

He wondered what Melkor saw when he constantly donned the visor. Was he constantly looking for threats? Or was he secretly browsing the galactic net like a comm junkie?

In any case, Melkor never appeared to be too distracted, so Ves didn't call him out. Besides his eccentricities, Melkor always followed his instructions.

In contrast, every time he spoke to Raella, she always acted confrontational. Ves had to tread lightly around her in order to avoid setting her off. She still harbored revenge fantasies against Virma, and wasn't afraid to be vocal about it whenever the Silver Chancellors played a match.

"I don't mean to pry, but maybe you should stop watching the mech games." Ves suggested one day. The Greenwind already passed the halfway mark into her journey to Bentheim. "It's not like you can salvage your career."

Predictably, Raella growled at him and left the suite. Ves imagined she intended to vent her frustration in one of the Greenwind's simulator pods.

He knew he hadn't been gentle, but she truly needed a dose of reality. The sporting leagues loved their controversies, but Raella had taken it too far. The sooner she got over this bump in her life, the sooner she could get her head back into the real game. Ves imagined she could be of great use to him once he earned her loyalty.

"On my own, I'm nothing." Ves admitted to himself. Besides Lucky, he was completely at the mercy to anyone who pointed a gun at him. Even if his feline companion could shred through a squad of infantry, Lucky had no way to threaten a mech.

Only mechs could guard against mechs.

One of the reasons why Ves assented to selling a twenty-five percent stake was because he wanted to co-opt some trustworthy mech pilots. Of all the possible people he could entrust his safety, he could never go wrong with family. For all the frequent internal squabbling, the Larkinsons never resorted to the kind of backstabbing Virma had pulled off on Raella and her friends.

Even though he questioned Raella and Melkor's reliability, it didn't change the fact that they shared the same surname. Ves could not imagine in a million years that someone could subvert his own family against him. Against the shadowy influences arrayed against them, trustworthy guards were worth their weight in exotics.

When the Greenwind finally arrived at Bentheim, Ves departed from the ship along with his two companions. The space station's loaders also brought out their personal mechs and temporary stowed them away.

This time, Ves wanted to conduct some business, so he took a shuttle and descended to the surface. He reached the upscale business district where his mech broker holed up in her lair.

After leaving his escort in the office building's foyer, Ves took the elevator to the top floor where Marcella awaited his arrival.

"Good to see you again, Ves!" The hefty woman greeted him with a smile. She offered him a glass of liquor. "Want a drink?"

"No thanks, I'm here for business." He replied while seating himself across her desk. "I've got a couple of matters to talk about."

She passed him a handful of electronic documents that displayed various bits of performance data. None of his customers employed the Marc Antony Mark II's in an actual battle as of yet, but the results from the various live-fire training exercises spoke for themselves.

"That's some pretty decent performance." Ves contently noted. The mercs who bought his products possessed enough skill to make the most out of its capabilities. "What's their feedback?"

"Their technicians are having a hard time maintaining the internals, but they're making do. Overall, I haven't received any significant complaints. Your buyers are pretty satisfied so far. "

The lack of malfunctions bode well for the Mark II's future. "I'll be busy with a project, so I won't be able to fabricate any mechs for the time being. I plan to hand over the production of silver label mechs to a fabricator I've trained. While he's not as good as me, he work should be able to pass certification, if only barely."

Marcella looked a little sceptical. "I've always heard the Caesar Augustus and its variants are plagued by constant setbacks during the fabrication process. Are you sure you're ready?"

"My fabricator spent months to master my design. I'm pretty confident he's up to the task. Just to be sure, don't start swamping me with orders."

"That won't be a problem. We'll delay the public reveal of the Mark II for the time being. I can use these metrics along with the testimonies from your first batch of customers to drum up some sales."

Ves hammered out a tentative schedule with Marcella. He also allowed her to correspond with Carlos directly in order to handle these minor matters. So long as Marcella regularly provided his business with orders, he'd be able to earn a constant stream of revenue.

"I take it you're not here to talk about the Mark II, right?"

He nodded. "There's also the matter of my ship. How is the Barracuda holding up?"

"She's safely stowed away along with the rest of my inventory. Your pretty corvette is quite a sight, you know. Every time I bring in a customer to deliver their mechs, they always ask me if she's for sale."

They both knew that Ves would be a fool to sell such a remarkable spaceship. "Haha, they can dream. In any case, I'd like to repair and staff my ship."

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Not for the moment, but you never know." He carefully replied. "There may be times where my services are required elsewhere. The ability to move anywhere I want is bound to be useful once I increase my fame."

In fact, he'd been eyeing the missions offered by the Clifford Society for a while now. He never let go of his dream to design an original mech. In order to reach this milestone quickly, Ves planned to amass a lot of merits in order to exchange for a set of quality production machines.

As for the Larkinson family's seed money? Ves already put the 500 million credits aside. When the time came to work on an original design, he intended to spend the money on acquiring the necessary component licenses.

All of this haste was an effort to make himself more valuable once a war broke out. The Mech Corps treated their called-up mech designers differently according to their achievements.

Those who dwelled at the bottom like Carlos could expect to be regarded as disposable cannon fodder. They often assisted the short-handed and overworked mech technicians at major supply points.

Mech designers who possessed practical experience in designing and selling mechs were often assigned as mid-level supervisors.

Only designers who designed an original mech had the opportunity to employ their design talents. The Mech Corps always assigned such valuable minds to one of their many design teams.

Marcella already made the necessary arrangements to repair the Barracuda. He quickly transferred 22 million credits to cover the greedy shipyard's costs and hire some spacers to crew his ship.

"You'll need a captain, pilot, engineer and at least one or two ratings to properly crew your ship. You can't get by with less unless you intend to run your billion credits ship to the ground."

"We'll go by your arrangements since you know better than me. Just make sure you're not hiring a bunch of pirates in disguise."

"Trustworthy spacers are hard to find. You'll have to throw in a lot more money in order to contract a crew who won't cut and run as soon as you encounter trouble."

After a quick discussion, Ves transferred a hundred thousand credits in order to facilitate the hiring process.

"Oh, there's one more thing I'd like to talk about." He said. He sent over a handful of documents his family's lawyers had drafted. "As soon as I get back, I plan to register a corporation. The Larkinsons agreed to purchase a twenty-five percent stake, you see, and I've already waited long enough to incorporate my business."

"That's great news! It's a lot less risky to do business once you move over to a limited liability structure. Are you still selling stock by any chance?"

"Not at the moment." Ves awkwardly laughed. Giving up a fourth of his stock to his family was one thing. He didn't intend to be so generous to outsiders no matter how much a help his mech broker had been. He firmly intended to maintain a cordial relationship with her.

"So what's your question?"

"I've already come up with a logo for my corporation." He replied, and summoned up his familiar emblem of a stylized Lucky sleeping atop a prismatic cloud over a giant V letter. "I'm still grappling with an appropriate name. I've been trying many random names but they don't really roll off the tongue."

His mech broker nodded seriously. "Determining your company's name is one of the most important choices you can make. A bad name won't be much of a drag, but a good name can absolutely be a boon to your marketing."

Under Marcella's guidance, he quickly ruled out several categories of names. For example, he declined to use an acronym unlike the famous BSBH Corporation that operated various popular virtual games like Iron Spirit. He also declined to use a safe but boring name like the Larkinson Corporation or the Cloudy Curtain Mech Corporation.

"Perhaps we're taking the wrong approach." Marcella noted in an exasperated fashion. They'd been at it for half an hour and Ves still hadn't settled on a suitable name. "The name of your company is both an identity and a brand. Think of your products and your future goals. Think of your specialties and selling points. What makes your products different from others?"

Ves leaned back and considered her advice. First of all, he distinguished himself from his competitors with the help of the System. Such a miraculous invention should never come to light, so he quickly decided not to use it as an inspiration for his company's name.

That left his specialties. So far, Ves intended to specialize in both the X-Factor and a balance between speed and armor. The issue with the former was that it couldn't be measured or put in a spec sheet. The issue with the latter was that he lacked sufficient depth compared with those who fully committed to either speed or armor.

Perhaps he might be overthinking the issue. Ves wanted to build a company that embodied his dreams. What was his ultimate dream?

To reach the pinnacle of mech design! To explore the ultimate limits of a mech! To see whether mechs can come to life!

Life!

His eyes instantly brightened. Could it be so simple? Ves wanted to convey the message that his mechs had life! Even if hardly anyone knew about the X-Factor, the bold aspiration should help convince his customers that his mechs were worth the price.

"I've thought up a name." He said. After repeating the name in his head, he finally decided to air it out in the open. "The Living Mech Corporation, or LMC for short."

The Living Mech Corporation!

Marcella widened her eyes. Despite its fairly plain use of words, the mere idea of producing a mech that could be described as living was a bold one! It already described the indistinct sensation that every customer of his mechs had mentioned to her. His mechs felt more alive than any other ones!

"It's a decent, if somewhat simple name. Are you sure you want to roll with it? It also brings up an unpleasant association with the fantasy of designing a mech composed of living tissue."

Ves firmly held on to his stance. "I'm certain. The name describes my philosophy of treating mechs like persons instead of machines. I don't want my customers to associate my products with commodities to be discarded at will."

Every mech is a life to be treasured!

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Ves wanted to leave his mark in the Age of Mechs. The Living Mech Corporation encapsulated both his selling points and his aspirations. The name might sound a little bland, but its open-ended meaning left a lot of room for interpretation.

More importantly, the name also matched his nascent design philosophy. No matter how many mech designers had already touched upon the secret of the X-Factor, Ves definitely wished to forge his own path.

After finishing his discussion with Marcella, he left left her office and returned to the foyer. Lucky played with a potted plant. Raella and Melkor stood at the side, admiring the promotional footage projected at the sides. They all showed several designs in action. Ves even saw archival footage of the Mark I in action.

"Is that your mech?" Raella curiously asked.

He nodded with pride. "It's my very first sale, in fact. I designed the variant and fabricated it completely on my own. No one else lent a hand to me during the entire process. Recently, I even updated its design. The Mark II is a comprehensive improvement over its predecessor."

His cousins looked suitably impressed. It turned out they hadn't heard about Ves and his accomplishments before. Raella dedicated her entire life to the mech games while Melkor presumably served in some kind of military unit.

Only now, they realized what kind of a bigshot Ves had become. The ability to design and build your own mech impressed the two mech pilots. To them, the entire process sounded like sorcery.

Ves felt as if he was a wizard showing off a fireball in front of a crowd of knights. Though the latter could easily snap the former's body in two, the impressive display held them back. The wizard's magic had exceeded their limited comprehension.

For the first time since they joined his company, the two regarded him with respect. Raella always wore her emotions on her sleeve, so her mood shifted the most.

As for Melkor, he must have already been acquainted with Ves from reading a report. The visor blocking half his face also hindered anyone from determining his attitude. With the help of his enhanced perception and intelligence, Ves nonetheless picked up some hopeful signs.

"Let's return to the spaceport now. We have a flight to catch."

"Aww, do we have to?" Raella suddenly begged. "This place is a lot livelier than I thought! I want to visit all the mech boutiques and see the local mech athletes in action!"

Though Ves originally planned to depart in a few hours, Raella convinced him to take them for a day out. Perhaps it hadn't been fair for the family to force them to accompany Ves. For privileged city folk like them, a rural planet like Cloudy Curtain must be a boring place to them. Raella especially wouldn't be able to handle the transition.

"Let's head downtown then. The classiest mech boutiques and chain stores can all be found there."

Ves hailed an aircar and the three of them boarded the vehicle. After inputting the address, the vehicle ascended into the air and joined the orderly traffic.

Ves sat in the front holding Lucky while Raella and Melkor sat in the back discussing the merits of Bentheim's local teams.

Raella favored the Velvet Fists, which was Dorum's flagship team. They often clashed head-on against the Silver Chancellors and acquitted themselves well. The Velvet Fists distinguished themselves by their flamboyant female leader.

As for Melkor, he respected an up-and-coming team called the Grease Monkeys. Based in the heavily industrialized city of Haston, the community-funded team enjoyed a lot of local support. Somehow, they signed on a couple of talented locals and have been making their mark over the years.

"I don't care much about the local teams." Ves replied when Raella asked him who he supported. "Bentheim isn't my home. I spent a lot more time on Rittersberg actually. My real home is Cloudy Curtain. It's just too bad the planet isn't rich enough to fund a team."

They simply didn't have the means. The farming consortiums owned the majority of the planet's wealth. Considering their roots, the last thing they wanted to do was to foster more mechs.

Just as Raella started to explain the merits of her favorite teams, Melkor held up a hand.

"Aren't we supposed to head downtown? Why is our aircar moving away from it?"

His sudden interruption startled Ves. He never paid attention to their environment. When he pressed his face against the window, he found to his dismay that their aircar had inexplicably turned around. Instead of shops and flashing lights, he only encountered drab-looking workshops, factories and warehouses.

"This isn't good! Our car is flying above the industrial district! We're never supposed to come close to this area in the first place!"

Raella instantly pulled out a laser pistol that she previously hid in her coat. "What the hell? Why is someone after you, Ves? Are we being kidnapped or something?!"

"It might be possible. I never thought anyone would be crazy enough to start something on Bentheim." Ves replied while holding his chin.

Who could it be? Bentheim Liberation Movement? The Five Scrolls Compact? The Gauge Dynasty? The Ricklin Family? Ves provoked too many enemies lately. He couldn't determine who was aiming for him at the moment. He needed more information, but first he had to solve their current crisis.

While everyone still tried to press down their panic, Melkor reached forward and pressed a conspicuous red button. "I don't know much about aircars, but they should all be equipped with a hard override."

The car hadn't changed its course at all. The saboteurs disabled the button.

"What do we do?!" The only female occupant panicked. She held up her comm and tried to contact an emergency service. "My comm is blocked! I can't get a signal!"

"My comm device is blocked as well."

"Hold on! I can fix this, I think!"

Since his last adventures, Ves had gotten into the habit of carrying a miniature toolbox. You never knew when something might need fixing. He retrieved a multitool and quickly separated the console in front of his seat. They encountered a confusing maze of wires and electronics.

"Do you know how to hack this aircar?" Raella dubiously asked.

"I can make sense of some of the components, but I don't specialize in flying vehicles." Ves shook his head. Though he could mess with the autopilot or the altimeter, he could also cause the car to crash. "Lucky, can you take a peek and see if there's anything suspicious inside?"

The cat meowed at at his request and promptly stuck his head inside. His cousins looked a little skeptical at his pet. "Isn't that a mechanical pet? I thought they are supposed to be equipped with low-grade AIs."

"Lucky isn't one of those bottom-bin, mass-produced mechanical pets. He's a lot smarter than any other artificial pet and he also has a few surprises in store."

The gem cat already saved his life more than once. Ves hadn't even mapped his feline companion's full capabilities. After half a minute of sniffing, Lucky suddenly hissed and pawed at an inconspicuous palm-sized backup battery.

"What is this?"

The cat continued to hiss at it as if it killed his ancestors. Ves decided to trust his companion and used a tiny multiscanner to inspect the suspicious object. It didn't take much time before his scanner blared in alarm.

"It's an improvised explosive!"

His announcement landed like a bomb. Raella practically started to foam at the mouth.

As for Melkor, his entire posture radiated fury. He pressed a button on his visor, causing its fluorescent surface to turn from blue to red. He looked around and his expression soured. He retrieved a hidden knife and started to stab the aircar's upholstery.

"What are you up to?"

"There are spy sensors embedded into our seats."

That instantly shut her up. Raella quietly watched him squash the bugs one by one. Meanwhile, Ves continued to scan the improvised explosive in order to determine how much of a threat it posed.

"Haven't you done enough scanning?" Raella asked, her face marred with stress. "Why aren't you pulling it out yet?!"

"It's triggered to blow if I mess with it!"

Besides tampering, the bomb was also set to blow if it received an outside signal. In fact, Ves already activated his Privacy Shield. The invisible spherical field encompassed the bomb, preventing any outsiders from detonating it once they realized their targets became aware of the threat.

It also blocked their kidnappers from sending out their commands to the aircar itself. Ves didn't want to see their vehicle suddenly nosediving to the ground.

Fortunately, the bomb didn't appear to be set to explode once it missed an occasional preprogrammed signal. Bentheim's hyper-vigilant security forces would quickly track a suspicious signal to its source. Ves concluded that his assailants this time must not be too sophisticated.

"It's likely the work of the Bentheim Liberation Movement."

"The separatists? The ones who are always bombing factories and refineries?"

"I'm pretty sure it's them. One of their cadre has a contentious relationship with me. This must be some form of revenge."

"Well, you better fix this quickly before we end up in his grasp!"

Raella had a point. Whoever sabotaged their aircar could have blown them up as soon as they boarded it. Instead, the vehicle quietly redirected their destination to the outskirts of Dorum. Wherever they might end up, it wouldn't be good for any of them. Ves quickly had to ground the car, but before he could do so he first had to solve the bomb.

"I'm already blocking any signals from communicating with the bomb." He explained while heating up a micro plasma cutter. The tiny gadget could barely cut a thin sheet of metal, and only worked for thirty seconds at its maximum intensity. He simply had to make to. "I've largely figured out its mechanisms. I think I can disarm the bomb by disconnecting this controller and this backup trigger here."

His explanation flew over their heads. "How sure are you that you won't blow us up?"

"I have no idea, really. It depends on how devious the bomb maker is. From what I can gather, he's not a professional. The bomb's construction actually gives me the feeling he's a washed out mech designer."

Such a figure must have studied mech design in the hopes of designing his own mechs, just like Ves. When he finally graduated, he must have found out that a novice mech designer was worth nothing and that the mech industry had no room for him. Such a bitter and frustrated mech designer must be easy pickings for the BLM.

While everyone held their breath, Ves quickly cut through the plating and separated the two essential components. His hand moved with precision as he deftly removed his targets within the thirty second time limit. His micro cutter sputtered out once it expended its charge.

No one moved for a few seconds. Once they realized the bomb hadn't gotten off, everyone sighed. "Let's throw it out!"

Ves nodded in agreement. He used several tools to cut its external cables and separate it from its mounting. After pulling it out, he looked at the aircar's window.

"Lucky, can you open up a hole?"

The cat sprung his energy claws and ruthlessly attacked a window. The claws neatly parted an oval-shaped hole in the car. The vehicle's continued high-speed flight caused the interior to be engulfed in wind and noise. Ves finally threw out the package, which quickly dropped onto the roof of a warehouse.

"With the state of Bentheim's alertness, I bet the drop has already triggered an alert." Melkor reasoned. "As soon as they take a closer look, they'll know it's a bomb."

Help might be on the way, but the security services still needed some time to catch up with the car. By the time they finally tracked it down, the Larkinsons might already be dead, or worse.

"Enough talk! Ves, please put us on the ground!"

Ves had already started doing so once he threw away the bomb. Lucky hadn't detected any other threats, so Ves went to work with forcing the car to descend. After a minute of rummaging, he found the emergency override.

While the rebels might have tampered with its programming, any standard aircar had to include a functional mechanical override. Such a device should continue to function even if the car had been subjected to jamming, hacking or an electrical overload.

Even the saboteur couldn't do anything about the simple mechanism. The omnipresent sensors around Bentheim constantly scanned each car to see if it still worked.

Without further ado, Ves pulled a lever. The aircar blared an alarm and blinkered its lights before diving down to the streets.

"Get ready for trouble!" Melkor shouted over the howling wind. Both mech pilots readied their pistols and nodded at each other. "As soon as we touch down, we'll try to flee to the nearest shelter and try to hold up until the security forces arrive!"

No one knew if anyone awaited them on the ground, but the Larkinsons never backed down from a fight!

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The three young Larkinsons disgorged from their forcibly landed aircar in a run. They approached the entrance of what appeared to be a junkyard. A single security officer along with a host of rickety security bots held them up at the entrance.

"Stop! No entry allowed!"

"Let us in! It's an emergency!" Ves retorted as he banged his fist against the gates. "The BLM is after us right now!"

The portly security guard appeared puzzled. He looked around and failed to notice anything amiss. "I don't see any rebels. Are you sure you've got your heads on straight?"

Just as Ves wanted to respond, everyone flattened themselves when a huge explosion threw them off their feet. His antigrav clothing instantly righted his body in place, but his cousins had to roll on the ground before they came to a stop. Everyone gawked at the gigantic plume of smoke a few blocks away.

"We're under attack!" The guard panicked and quickly slammed his fist against a button. The entire junkyard started to go into lockdown as metal shutters rolled down windows and all of the fences became electrified.

"At least let us in before you hole up in your little corner!"

"It's no use." Melkor said and pulled Raella back before she could bang her fist against the metal shutters. "Look around you. Everyone's running scared."

All of the airtrucks and shuttles zipped away, even those who were still in the progress of loading their goods. Some of them even dropped their cargo as their hatches hadn't closed in time.

Along with the retreat of every vehicle, every factory and warehouse started to put up their barricades. In an unsafe environment like the industrial district which was plagued with criminals and other unsavory characters, such an exaggerated level of security was a basic requirement. Even as the air grew a little hotter due to the nearby flames, no one looked out for others.

As the Larkinsons tried to find some shelter at the warehouses and workshops next door, they were only met with stony silence.

"It's no use." Ves eventually said. "This is one of Dorum's worst neighborhoods. A lot of gangs like to threaten and steal from these facilities. You won't be able to find a good samaritan in this part of town."

Melkor frowned behind his glaring red visor. "I don't see any police. How could Bentheim let its public security deteriorate to this degree?"

Even if the Dorum Police Force sleeped on the job, they should have sent some help over. Ves brought up his comm but only got an invalid signal.

"Our comms are still blocked! The rebels must have sabotaged the nearby broadcast towers!"

Things weren't looking good, Ves thought. A nefarious force had blown up something big and blocked their wireless communication attempts. Had the rebels given up on the quiet option and therefore opted to go loud?

An intense sensation suddenly engulfed him. For some reason, Ves felt as if an apex predator stared hungrily at him. Sweat trickled down his brow as he tried to parse this unfamiliar probe. His so-called Sixth Sense only triggered when he came into contact with the X-Factor.

Did this mean that one of his own mechs was close?

"The flavor is wrong."

For lack of a better word, he described each different sensation from the X-Factor as a flavor. As someone who personally designed and fabricated the Mark I's and Mark II's, they possessed a unique blend of daring and aggression.

The flavor currently pinging his senses lacked the boldness he had personally imbued. Instead, it tasted like a cold winter wind snuffing out a lonely candle.

"VES! GET DOWN!" Melkor suddenly yelled and tried to tackle Ves to the ground. A sudden shield sprang into being that forcibly bounced him back.

Distracted by his attempt to parse his Sixth Sense, his entire vision suddenly bloomed as a solid projectile suddenly crashed against his shield. Master Olson's gift prevented the incredible amount of kinetic energy from affecting his fragile body.

"That's a railgun!" Raella yelled and haphazardly fired her laser pistol in the direction of the attack. "We're all going to die!"

Melkor forcibly bent down her weapon arm so that her deadly laser beams burnt harmlessly against the pavement. "Calm down. Ves didn't die. We can still make it through."

The attack had pulled Ves out of his stupor. He finally realized that his Sixth Sense hadn't picked up a mech, but rather an assassin. His heart beat loudly inside his chest as he belatedly learned he just escaped death. He quickly looked at his comm and had a scare. His shield generator just lost nine percent of its charge!

"Screw it!" He swore, and pointed at the barricaded warehouse they were currently standing in front of. "Lucky, cut down an opening for us."

Lucky didn't act cute this time and directly clawed a crude man-sized opening in the metal shutters. The three along with the cat barged their way inside the storage area which blared in alarm at their intrusion. Security bots armed with both lethal and non-lethal weapons started to hover over their heads.

"Damn it! These assholes want to shoo us out!" Raella exclaimed and raised her pistol at the robots.

Just as she pulled the trigger, they all lost power and crashed to the ground. The three had to jump away in order to avoid getting pummeled in the heads.

"Melkor?"

"These are ancient models. Even if their firmware is up to date, they're nothing compared to the models used in Rittersberg." The man grinned with satisfaction and tapped his finger against his glowing red visor. "I'm not wearing this for show, you know."

It turned out that Melkor had taken a course in hacking. Though he wasn't a genuine programming expert, he had more than enough skills to apply a standard script to old vulnerabilities. As long as the system wasn't too new or advanced, he'd be able to bypass its lock.

"Why didn't you hack open the doors in the first place, then?"

"It didn't work." He shook his head. "Every property in the block is secured with both mechanical and electronic means."

This wasn't unusual as the people who operated these facilities couldn't afford to update their cybersecurity. Just because Ves could afford to employ Sanyal-Ablin to fortify his systems didn't mean that anyone else could do the same. The cutthroat competition along with all of the other dangers on Bentheim often forced the local businesses to cut corners.

"Is anyone around?"

No one made a peep. Whoever supervised the warehouse must be holing up somewhere safe.

Just as they started to move forward, a loud bang sounded as the sniper shot another round. The projectile punched straight through the warehouse wall and only lost a bit of energy before crashing before the shield that sprung up again in front of Ves.

He just lost another chunk of his shield generator's charge! He only had about eighty percent left!

His cousins didn't even ask about his shield generator. Both Melkor and Raella urged Ves to run towards the middle of the warehouse. "Hurry up and run! The railgun won't be able to penetrate all of these goods."

They all ran towards the stacks of what appeared to be various bulk materials. Ves recognized that most of them were often used in producing mechs, such as titanium and a number of composites.

Just as they reached the middle, they started to hear a large number of footsteps from the entrance Lucky had created.

"Our target's inside!" One of the new entrants announced. "Fan out and shoot the bastard as soon as you see him. Don't forget to call out his position!"

"On it boss!"

"Death to the Republic!"

"Shed Blood for Bentheim!"

The Larkinsons groaned. They recognized the BLM's slogan.

"How many?" Raella asked.

"Twenty-five. They're not wearing armor. No heavy weapons." Melkor slowly analyzed as his visor appeared to see straight through the stored materials. "We're outarmed and outnumbered. We should surrender."

"No." Ves replied, immediately shutting off this line of inquiry. "The BLM never returns its hostages. Anyone who's taken by them will suffer and agonizing fate. We'll have to fight our way out."

"You heard Melkor. We're vastly outnumbered."

"Those guys must be ruffians. Their sniper is something else, but he's too constrained while we're indoors." Ves explained with burning hope in his eyes. "You two are mech pilots are you not? You've spent more than a decade learning how to kill. Even without a mech, you should be able to handle some untrained thugs."

"We're not dealing with 'some'. There's twenty-five rebels closing in and we have no way to beat them all!"

"Are you sure about that?"

One reason why Ves insisted on entering a packed warehouse like this was because it contained a lot of vertical space. He turned to Lucky who vigilantly stood at his side and petted his back.

"Go get 'em, Lucky. Don't show them any mercy."

His deadly pet replied with a dangerous yowl and jump up to a shelf above his head. Lucky quickly disappeared from his sight as he instantly entered hunting mode.

A few seconds later, the thugs started to scream. About half of their screams cut off mid-way as if their throats had been cut. The other half

Ves gritted his teeth and pushed his two cousins forward. "We should attack now that they're distracted. I don't know if Lucky can hold on for long."

He always noted that Lucky was never able to sustain his claws for long. Though they possessed an incredible amount of cutting power, Lucky's cat-sized body could only store so much energy. It also took a fairly long time for his mechanical pet to recharge.

"He's right. The rebels are in disarray. We have to stake our lives for this." Melkor decided and ran towards the direction of the screams.

"W-W-We're really doing this, aren't we?" Raella stuttered for a moment before slapping her head. "What the hell am I doing? I'm better than this! I'm a Larkinson!"

Raella followed after Melkor with Ves closely in tow. He started feeling really guilty for not possessing a weapon. He always intended to purchase one whenever he ended up in situations like this, but always forgot about it after the danger had passed.

Ves resolved to address this shortcoming if he managed to survive. He tried his best to keep up with his athletic niece. "Let me stand in front! My shield can still take a couple of hits."

She didn't argue his decision even if a professional guard would balk at his words. She cleverly positioned her body behind his so that she only exposed her eyes and her pistol.

They passed a couple of brutally savaged bodies of men and women. They all wore dirt-crusted rags but wielded fairly pristine weapons.

"These guys have been hiding in tunnels in order to evade the local security sweeps." Ves remarked as he bent down and picked up a basic but brand-new ballistic rifle. His face quickly soured. "Gene locked. Whoever supplied them with these weapons must have a lot of money in their pockets."

Ves might be able to bypass the gene lock if he kludged up a workaround, but the situation didn't allow it. He discarded the rifle and picked up a plain combat knife. "This will do."

They caught up to Melkor who currently exchanged fire against a pair of thugs. Three bodies lay scorched on the ground. His shooting skills surpassed Dietrich's by a considerable margin as Melkor neatly squeezed a laser beam through a finger-sized slit between two large containers. The rebel screamed as the high-powered beam turned his stomach into a blackened mess.

"My pistol is overheating." Melkor said and turned to Raella with a hand. "Give me yours."

"No way! This is mine!"

"This isn't the time, Raella! You know my marksmanship scores are better than yours, and I can interface my weapons with my visor."

The lack of living opponents lessened their urgency. They all believed the situation had been handled.

"Just hand over the pistol already." Ves commanded his cousin. "We need to clean up these men as quickly as possible before-"

He abruptly stopped when his Sixth Sense started tingling again. He felt another chilling wind blow past his undefinable senses.

"Get down!"

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The projectile punched through the warehouse's walls from the side and came at them like the wrath of a falling meteor. Forewarned by his Sixth Sense, Ves barely ducked in time, allowing the flaming projectile to impact against against the ground, throwing up a momentous amount of cement.

The large amount of debris pelted the Larkinsons, causing no small amount of minor injuries. Ves managed to stay unscathed due to his shield generator, which lost another percent of charge.

"We've got to pull back!" Melkor gritted his teeth, giving up on trying to borrow Raella's pistol. "As long as that sniper is lurking around, it's not safe to leave the center."

Raella nodded her head as she gripped her own weapon with an iron grip. "We're mech pilots without a mech in sight. We're sitting ducks out here!"

Losing the initiative never went well, but they all agreed and ran back towards the deepest section of the warehouse. All of them tried to find a way out of their predicament but could think of nothing except to wait for help. With the amount of noise the BLM had stirred, the police or Planetary Guard should be arriving at any moment now.

"It's a monster! It's AAAHHH!"

"Some kind of drone is killing us all!"

"I never signed up to this! Let's get out of here!"

The discordant group of rebels broke apart due to the terror in their midst. Lucky reaped a toll on their sanity as he slowly constantly clawed out their throats. At a certain point, the survivors forgot about their mission and fled like rats.

Raella looked at Ves as if he had done the killing himself. "Did you upgrade your cat or something?"

"My father gave him to me as a gift." Ves replied, bringing up his standard excuse whenever someone asked about Lucky's peculiarities. "He's a product of the New Rubarth Empire."

Everything that came from a first-rate superstate might as well be magic. The yokels out in the galactic rim had no cognition of the level of technology employed by most powerful human states. Ves found it to be a convenient prop whenever he had to misdirect the origin of his System's rewards.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with keeping a mechanical pet by your side? They're getting out of vogue because they're prone to hacking."

"I trust Lucky." Ves replied emphatically. In fact, he trusted in the System. "He's a unique pet who's hiding quite a few surprises. I don't believe anyone from this star sector can compromise his programming."

Moments later, the star of the show appeared in their midst. The tired-looking cat had dropped down from above and meowed with less enthusiasm than before. This time, Ves felt an ache in his heart when he saw that Lucky hadn't come out of fight unscathed. His left side had been scorched by a passing laser beam that blackened his shimmering bronze surface.

"Lucky!" Ves called out and picked up his companion. "Are you okay?"

He tried to interpret his cat's attempts to answer his question. Lucky appeared to have a lot of energy to spare due to the opposition's lack of armor. A simple swipe of his energy claws at their lowest power setting easily took care of the untrained rabble.

Instead, the heat damage partially crippled Lucky's capabilities. A significant part of his flexible shell had fused together into slag. The laser also transferred a lot of heat into Lucky's internals.

Over time, his gem cat could recover from the damage by eating special minerals and letting his advanced self-repair do all of the work. Unfortunately, time was in short supply today.

"So we can't rely on your pet anymore?"

"Seems so. We're on our own."

The news disheartened the Larkinsons. Their best weapon had been taken out of what must have been a stray shot from a panicking rebel.

After some crunching, Melkor finally spoke up. "We're going to have to come up with another plan. The only thing I can't figure out is whether our opponents are committed to investing more assets."

"What do you mean by that, cousin?" The only woman in their midst asked with a reluctant voice. "From all the smoke and fire, the BLM must have blown up an entire refinery or something!"

"Which anyone can do as long as they are smart enough! Only a small cell of terrorists working together with some insiders are required. Think, Raella. How much does this operation cost in their perspective?"

Not much. Besides funding the weapons and explosives, the BLM mainly sacrificed their worthless footmen. The real pros who supplied the weapons along with the expertise to set up a facility to blow were long gone by now.

Melkor turned his ominous red visor to Ves. "Are you certain it's just the BLM who's after us. I'm not doubting your judgement, because everything we've experienced so far matches up with your guess. Only the railgun specialist doesn't fit. His weapon is too sophisticated and his aim is spot on. You already died twice, you know."

It hadn't really set in, but Ves knew he brushed past certain death. He mentally thanked his master for her very timely gift.

"I know what you're talking about. To be honest, I've provoked other enemies besides the BLM. All of them are incredibly wealthy."

"That's great." Raella sarcastically remarked. "It might have been nice to tell us how many people you pissed off BEFORE we get shot at!"

Before the argument escalated, Melkor held out his hand. "Stop. More men are approaching. There are fewer steps, but they're heavier than the last wave."

"Is it the police?"

"I don't know yet. I'm not familiar with Dorum's fast response force."

Everyone readied their weapons for another fight. If the newcomers came with ill intent, they'd fight tooth and nail to save their lives. Ves petted Lucky's head. "Can you take a peek? Just tell us if it's friendly or not."

The cat meowed softly before patting away with a much less slinkier gait. While Lucky scouted out the approaching group, Ves looked around the warehouse and tried to spot anything that might help in turning the tables.

Sadly, the shelves only held low-value bulk materials that wouldn't be of much help. Ves found nothing remotely volatile or flammable, and he couldn't even find an industrial loader mech that normally carried heavy loads.

With nothing at hand, Ves hesitated in bringing up his comm. He could still resort to the System if nothing else. With almost 10,000 DP in reserve, he could buy a gadget from the stingy Store and hold on for a couple more minutes.

Lucky quickly returned and yowled with panic. Melkor also finished parsing his visor's readings. "We're dealing with armored mercenaries or the like. We won't be able to overcome their armor with our pistols."

Laser pistols worked extremely well against soft targets, but had difficulty penetrating past a solid layer of armor. As long as the armor was thick enough, it diffused the heat among its surrounding portions.

"This is ridiculous!" Raella cursed and held her weapon ready. "Where's our help? We've been under fire for over ten minutes now."

While Melkor tried to form a plan, Ves turned his body and discretely activated his comm. While the BLM disabled communications, they couldn't do anything to his apps. He tapped the System's icon and entered its Store.

Millions of items flashed by in a blink as the Store came into being. Ves tried to figure out the best way to spend his DP. He didn't ask for much, just a way to survive. The life-threatening situation disrupted his thoughts, making it harder for him to think. He couldn't employ his logic when all of his primal instincts activated his fight or flight response.

"Come on, System! Please help me out. Give me a suggestion of what I should buy!"

[The Mech Designer System is not meant to replace the user's own judgement. Please treasure your autonomy and make your own decisions in life.]

Ves felt the urge to scream. This stubborn System still stuck to its stupid principles when his life was at danger. He couldn't rely on anyone but himself it seemed. He quickly considered where he should spend his points.

"A weapon is no good. They'll kill me before I can kill them. Armor will only delay the inevitable."

He quickly concluded that he should obtain some means to avoid the enemy entirely. He first thought of teleporting, but he quickly balked at the prices the various teleportation items offered. Unless he accumulated more than a million DP, he shouldn't be thinking about teleporting himself and his cousins.

"What about a way to hide?"

A permanent or durable way to hide still cost way too much, but the Store offered several one-use alternatives. For example, he could spend 5.000 DP for a temporary augment of his Privacy Shield.

[Comm Upgrade - Privacy Shield - Level 1 - One-time Augment - Full Stealth]

Price: 5.000 DP

Duration: 10 Minutes

Temporarily upgrades a level 1 Privacy Shield to emit an overpowering field that disrupts any means of observation. It is capable of obfuscating every possible means of observation that is known to the Mech Designer System.

The simple description didn't do the augment justice. It blocked both electronic and biological means of detection. As long as no one bumped into their bodies, they could sneak off under the noses of their hunters.

Heavy footsteps started to become audible. The mercenaries entered the warehouse and started to fan out into two seperate groups.

Ves gritted his teeth and purchased the augment. "Everyone, come close to me. Best to hold on to my body, front and back. I've got a gadget here that can hide us from their view."

His cousins didn't doubt his words witnessing his shield generator. They knew he visited Leemar and returned with a lot of high-tech gifts. Melkor stood in front while Raella pressed against his back. Lucky on the other hand jump on his owner's shoulders.

"How long will it last?" Melkor asked in a whisper.

"It's supposed to be no more than ten minutes."

Both of his cousins were taken aback. Full stealth for an entire hour? Such a powerful piece of technology shouldn't even be available in this backwater star sector! Ves didn't try to convince them any further and activated both his Privacy Shield and his newly purchased augment.

He felt sick at the thought of bidding farewell to 5.000 DP. He could have upgraded a lot of skills with those precious points!

At least he saved them up beforehand. If he had already splurged his entire savings beforehand, he wouldn't be able to avoid the approaching killers.

Melkor and Raella both tried to say something, but the Privacy Shield dampened every sound. They could still see each other but those outside the bubble would see nothing but empty space. Seeing that they couldn't talk, Melkor tugged Ves into moving away from their current hideout.

They had started moving just in time, as ten seconds later a grenade landed where they had just been standing. The strange metal cilinder exploded in a white-hot glow of plasma that instantly scorched the fleeing Larkinsons with a flash of excruciating heat. It was a good thing the Privacy Shield dampened all of their sounds, because everyone except Ves released a cry.

Raella had it worst as she stood behind Ves. Her skin started to well up in red as they desperately fled the scene before the mercs decided to throw some more grenades.

In their frantic flight, they almost managed to collide with a squad of professional-looking mercenaries. They quickly pushed to the side and let the menacing squad trudge forward with their deadly rifles aimed at various angles.

Even as they stood mere meters away, the Larkinsons hadn't been spotted by the mercs. Ves released a breath. The System hadn't swindled him. The one-time augment worked like a charm.

With little more than eight minutes left to go, they quickly resumed their awkward run. No one knew how long they had to hold out, but anywhere was better than here.

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Using the souped-up Privacy Shield, they exited the warehouse through the hole Lucky had cut at the beginning. They left the heavily-armed mercs behind as they spread out and tried to track their targets down. From their cussing and swearing, they hadn't expected Ves and his cousins to disappear in thin air.

During their clumsy flight to somewhere safe, Ves felt a chilling wind brush past his Sixth Sense. Every time, the feeling went away, but it still frightened him to no end. Could the sniper use his own senses to suss their bodies?

The wind suddenly spiked!

The streets suddenly boomed as a railgun projectile rocketed towards their previous location. The entire pavement cratered as the solid slug delivered an incredible amount of kinetic energy. Anyone hit by it directly would have no chance of survival.

The Larkinsons quickly dashed away!

Ves remembered the description of the stealth augment. Its open-ended description didn't explicitly say that the temporary upgrade could block someone's metaphysical senses. Ves always suspected the reason why the System steered him into studying the X-Factor was because it didn't have much of a clue how it worked as well.

It might be one of the reasons why the Skill Tree excluded any mention of the X-Factor. Even if others figured out some clues, no one had laid down a systemic path to understanding this nebulous field of study.

In fact, the Skill Tree actually lacked a couple of other skills that should have been there. Ves had noted that some of the more advanced specialties pioneered by many famous masters hadn't been included.

For now, he urged the group to continue running past some blocks. Melkor appeared to guide them all towards a security checkpoint of some sorts. The small one-story structure usually staffed by a handful of police officers.

Now, they only saw death and ruin. The place had been torn up with bullet and scorch marks. The bodies of the fallen police officers were left behind like discarded trash.

Ves looked down on his comm. They only had four minutes left before the stealth augment ran its course. After looking around, he spotted something interesting. Right across the street, a massive storage area took up an entire block.

It must have been the place where larger shuttles and transports deposited heavy containers before ground-based transports picked them up and delivered them to their final destinations.

He ignored the large stacks of containers and instead turned his gaze towards the half-dozen industrial loader mechs standing off to the side. Their operators probably parked them to the side once the alarms went off before running away to safety.

"Look over there." He said, but quickly remembered that the stealth field dampened his voice. Instead, he tapped their shoulders and pointed at the mechs.

They both understood his intentions. Raella looked skeptical but Melkor nodded in understanding. They crossed the street and stopped before the storage yard's sturdy gates. With another prompt, Ves got Lucky to slice a narrow opening. Once they entered the yard, Ves suddenly felt the cold wind return.

The sniper must have noticed the sudden cut as soon as his Privacy Shield moved away!

With its stealth charge about to run out, they all ran towards the industrial mechs. Compared to combat-oriented mechs, the industrial mechs emphasized cost savings and strength. They were mostly designed to be an affordable way to carry heavy loads of goods without relying on expensive heavy-duty lifter platforms.

An industrial mech might cost more upfront, but a lifter platform guzzled energy like an alcoholic stuck in a wine cellar. The limbs also offered very fine manipulation when needed.

The ones employed by the storage yard weighed heavier than medium mechs and featured very robust limbs. They might not be able to outrace an aircar, but their heavy arms and legs allowed them to lift hefty loads without straining their frame.

The stealth field fizzled out just as they reached the lifter cables that could bring them up to the cockpits. "It's out! We're exposed now. Melkor, can you hack into these mechs?"

"I should be able to, but I might need your help. Sometimes, the owners of these low-quality mechs

Raella rapped her knuckle against the scratched and dirty surface of one of the machines. "Are we really going to hijack an industrial mech? They don't even have neural interfaces, let alone armor that is able to withstand an infantry-grade railgun!"

"If you can point out an actual combat mech, then be my guest!"

That quickly shut her up. Melkor quickly put his foot down on a step, which promptly zipped up the cable until he reached the cockpit. The step then climbed down, allowing Ves to follow after his older cousin.

For now, it appeared the sniper hadn't caught up to them yet. Ves quickly squeezed inside the narrow cockpit and analyzed his surroundings. The omission of a neural interface meant that the cockpit offered a lot more manual controls. He didn't bother figuring out what they did and instead tried to find out how to force the mech online.

After some fiddling, Melkor spoke out. "I've cracked the digital codes, but the mech isn't turning on. The owners of the mech must have installed some kind of hardware lock!"

Ves took over at that point. He swept the consoles until he found a plain mechanical lock underneath the main screen. Using an old-fashioned lock and key was a fairly easy way to secure an industrial mech. It prevented them from being taken for a joyride at the very least. Even a mech technician could install something as simple as this setup.

He forced open the lock in thirty seconds. Such a simple mechanism didn't faze him in the slightest. As the mech started booting up, the two Larkinsons descended using the same stepper cable.

"Raella, take this mech and stand guard for us!"

"On it!

The woman zipped up the cable and entered the booting mech.

"You better get inside your own mechs before they catch up!" The hatch in front of the torso quickly closed up. It gave her a measure of safety against a railgun attack, though Ves doubted its worthless armor could withstand such a strike.

"They're already on their way." Melkor grimly replied as Ves and him climbed inside the cockpit of another mech. "We won't have time to unlock a third mech, so get yourself comfortable Ves."

Even if he could, Ves had no doubt he'd probably trip his mech. Even industrial mechs needed a fair amount of training before anyone could pilot them proficiently. An untrained norm like him had no business trying to turn one into a hazard.

After they both disabled the various locks, they settled in as best they could in the cramped space. Ves had to squeeze to the side in order to provide Melkor enough room to operate the industrial mech.

The screens showed various settings that Melkor efficiently tweaked to his liking. Once he finished his modifying its settings, the lumbering mech finally started to move.

Raella had already turned her mech towards the incoming enemies. The same mercenaries who tried to corner them in the warehouse had tracked them down to the storage yard. A large number of hard-faced thugs armed with rifles and pistols followed after the heavily armed mercs.

"Look at that mech! It's moving!"

"They're inside!"

"Shoot the rust buckets!"

While the mercs slinked off to the sides, the thugs simply dove to the nearest cover and started to shoot their guns at the industrial mechs. Most of their weapons simply plinked or seared the surface of their mechs.

Ves gripped arm handle of the cockpit's seat. The amount of weapons arrayed against them could chew up an entire crowd of people. Yet nothing happened other than scratching their mech.

Even if their borrowed machines didn't incorporate any exotics in their armor, they still came out largely unscathed.

The Larkinsons finally fought back. The mob of separatists started to grow apprehensive as the two hijacked mechs moved close. Raella's mech adopted a strange gait that pushed her mech past its maximum speed. Only a truly skilled pilot could manipulate their mech's limbs in this fashion. Though it also strained the machine, it wasn't like they owned it in the first place.

As Raella closed in, Melkor hung back with his own mech and grabbed a nearby crate of goods.

His mech threw the crate at the shooting mob. Somehow, the crate landed in the very middle of the crowd, splattering four people instantly.

Raella's mech almost tripped due to her shock, but she recovered quickly and reached the closest concentration of men. Her mech grabbed a nearby pipe from a whole stack of them and started wielding it like a blunted spear.

Even as Melkor continued to throw all kinds of junk at the frightened mob, Raella bashed her closest assailants into broken wrecks. Her mech wielded the pipe like a lumbering oaf. Even if she couldn't wield the weapon as fast as she liked, she still reaped a horrible toll due to the incredible power behind each swing.

A railgun suddenly fired at her. Ves had no warning this time, as the sniper hadn't aimed at the mech he holed up. The railgun burrowed straight through Raella's mech, boring a small but nasty hole through its torso. The projectile narrowly missed the cockpit due to her amazing reflexes.

The single hit slowed down her mech by twenty percent.

"We've got to take care of that sneaky shooter!" She yelled as her mech practically went berserk. Her machine moved like a drunken fatty as she employed her piloting skill to the utmost in an attempt to make it harder for the sniper to hit her cockpit. Her dented pipe battered a lot of rebels to death. Their morale and enthusiasm started to waver.

The sniper shot her mech again, this time pummeling its leg. The mech lost most of its meager nimbleness as the mech had been forced to its knees. Its damaged leg couldn't handle much weight.

"We're getting chipped to death! How long do we have to wait?!"

"Help should be coming at any moment!" Ves remarked as he looked at the time. "Even if the rest of Bentheim is in flames, they should still send out a squad of mechs by now!"

Melkor's cockpit started to beep out an alarm. A squad of mercenaries sneaked up to their rear and launched about a dozen plasma grenades at his mech's vulnerable rear. The industrial mech could never dodge in time to avoid getting burned.

His mech started to turn its torso while whipping out its arm holding a crate of minerals. Half of the grenades hit the arm or crate, causing it to be engulfed in several balls of fury that crippled the entire limb.

The remaining grenades either missed the mech or pelted its torso. Melkor's mech hitched up as its power lines received a lot of disruptions.

The mercenaries started to poke out of their cover and fired at the holes created by the grenades. Their powerful weapons were capable of dealing significant damage to the industrial mech's internals. Melkor turned his mech away from the incoming fire as best he could, but the mercs had cleverly encircled them in order to negate such a move.

The industrial mechs fared poorly against the infantry dismantling them piece by piece. A fire broke out in the lower torso of Raella's mech, while Melkor's hijacked mech showed diminishing power as the incoming fire pummeled its internals into junk.

Just as they started to lose hope, a trio of mechs suddenly landed in their midst. Both the mercs and the surviving mob lost their footing as their landing threw off minor shockwaves.

All of the aerial mechs that landed sported the black-and-blue checkered pattern of the Bentheim Planetary Guard. The mechs were kitted out with a shield and a specialized fluid projector that looked like a flamethrower.

"PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS NOW!" A Guard mech boomed out. "THIS FIGHT ENDS HERE!"

Everyone on foot tried to run. As if expecting this response, the guard mech fanned out in three directions and activated their fluid projectors.

A disgusting-looking slime shot out of their nozzles and engulfed the fleeing men. Two of the Guard mechs continued to engulf every fleeing combatant. Even if they had a head-start, they could never outpace a building-sized combat mech.

The final mech didn't chase after the rats but instead walked towards Raella's half-burning mech. Her projector ejected a fire suppressant that stopped the flames. It then turned to Melkor's mech.

"I'm sorry about the late response. I hope you're not too banged up."

"Melinda?!"

The Larkinsons finally put down their guard. Their own cousin arrived to save the day. With her mech standing guard, the sniper probably wouldn't have the opportunity to shoot again.

"Better late than never. Thank you for saving us."

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