The crew sat around the battered control room and continued to try scraping together some sort of plan.
Heller dragged his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Maybe we can get a cannon or 2 working, but power is still a problem. If we get penned in we won't last long."
The crew paused to exchange worried glances. The Celeste did have decent firepower...when it was in one piece; 70 mm ship-to-ship depleted rounds...and they had 12 of them...best not to think what happened to the rest.
As if in response the door slid open and Namer entered silently.
He stood before the crew, his ancient eyes filled with a solemn certainty. "There is a way," he said, his voice steady. "If we awaken the Ultrasaurus."
Captain Heller frowned, arms crossed. "The what?"
"Ultrasaurus," Namer repeated, stepping forward. "One of the largest and most powerful Zoids ever designed. It was meant to be the ultimate combat machine, armed with Super Cannons, gravity-based weaponry, and an array of defensive systems. Its armor is nearly impenetrable, its power unmatched. Though slow, nothing can withstand its firepower. However, it was never completed. It rests, unfinished, deep within this factory."
The crew exchanged uncertain glances. "And you think we can finish it?" Griff asked skeptically, rubbing the back of his neck.
"With the help of the Blue Androids, perhaps," Namer said.
A quick vote and the crew headed to the Factory.
Namer led them through the winding corridors, past rows of dormant machines and shattered assembly lines, until they reached a heavily reinforced door. The metal was worn with age, streaked with dust and corrosion. Placing his four-fingered hand on the scanner, Namer waited. A long, grinding noise echoed through the chamber as the lock disengaged, and the door slid open with a hiss of pressurized air. Inside, bathed in dim light, lay the massive frame of the Ultrasaurus, its armored body incomplete but imposing.
Heller whistled, stepping forward to take in the sight. "That's a lot of Zoid."
Rolo crossed his arms, his gaze skeptical. "It looks like a scrap heap."
"If we can finish it, it may be the only thing capable of turning the tide," Namer insisted, his voice resolute.
The crew examined the towering metal behemoth, its frame covered in dust, exposed wiring hanging like veins from the unfinished sections. Massive cannons sat dormant on its back, their barrels dark and empty.
The crew returned to the assembly area of the Blue Zoid androids, their glowing optics scanning the humans with measured precision. Rows of golden mechanical warriors stood motionless, waiting. Heller took a step forward, arms crossed. "We need your help to complete the Ultrasaurus. If we don't, Krark and Redhorn will tear this planet apart. You want to win? This is our best shot."
The lead android's synthetic voice responded without hesitation, its tone devoid of emotion. "The probability of Ultrasaurus reaching operational status before enemy engagement is low. Abandoning all other repairs will significantly weaken our defensive capacity. Resources are finite. Allocation must be optimal."
Griff stood at the back, silent. He had refused to pilot Zoidzilla again—too many memories, too much strain. Without him at the helm, the Blue Zoids lacked a definitive leader, a flaw in their programming logic that made decisive action difficult. Heller pressed on, his frustration mounting. "You said it yourselves, you want to win! We can't do that without a real counter to Krark's and Redhorn's forces. If we finish this, we have a chance. If we don't, we lose."
Still, the androids did not move. Their cold logic dictated their decisions, and without a leader, they were hesitant to commit resources. The tension in the room thickened.
Then, Griff stepped forward, his fingers curling into fists. He felt the remnants of Zoidzilla's programming stir in his mind—echoes of commands, battle strategies, calculated aggression.
Zoidzilla was furious that his...Griff's decision was being questioned.
He had fought against it, resisted the influence, but now he let it rise, just enough. Just enough to give the Blue Pilots what they needed.
"You will begin work on the Ultrasaurus immediately," Griff ordered, his voice carrying a weight not entirely his own. "All resources will be diverted. That is an order. So commands your leader!"
The androids paused. Their optics flickered in unison, data streams syncing across their neural networks. Then, as if some long-dormant subroutine had been activated, they turned toward the factory, their decision made. The logical course of action had been recalculated. They moved.
Heller exhaled, glancing at Griff. "Did you just—?"
Griff shook his head, rubbing his temple as if shaking off the lingering influence. "Let's just hope this works."