《Rise of the Mech Smith》 Chapter 1 Stolen story; please report. Chapter 2 Stolen novel; please report.
Chapter 3 Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Activation sequence engaged. Stand still and wait to be scanned. Scanning, Scanning. Name; Kowal Zeidis Kovacs Level ¡°Do you confirm you wish to receive a directed neural input for the skill of Computer programming?¡± Chapter 4 Mustang Striker This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Design and Aesthetics: Performance Metrics: Mobility: Armor and Durability: Weapon Systems: Sensors and Targeting Operational Capabilities: Conclusion: Chapter 5 Mech Designer System Shop Skills and Knowledge Skill Books and Manuals: Advanced Mech Design Techniques AI Integration for Mechs Ergonomics and Human-Mech Interaction Training Modules: Virtual Reality Design Simulations Interactive Tutorials on Mech Combat Tactics Workshops on Emerging Technologies Blueprints and Schematics: Innovative Mech Frame Designs Weapon and Defense System Blueprints Modular Component Layouts Licenses and Certifications Design Licenses: Authorization for Unique Mech Designs Permits for Exotic Materials Use Technology Patents: Access to Proprietary AI Algorithms Exclusive Rights to Advanced Weapon Systems Operational Certifications: Piloting Licenses for Prototype Mechs Certification for Experimental Equipment Testing Materials and Resources Raw Materials: High-Density Alloys Energy-Conductive Fibers Lightweight Composites Exotic Elements: Elemental Crystals for Energy Storage Rare Minerals for Enhanced Armor Resource Packs: Bulk Supplies of Standard Components Specialized Kits for Custom Modifications Equipment and Tools Design Software: CAD Programs with Mech-Specific Features Simulation Tools for Stress Testing Fabrication Equipment: 3D Printers for Prototype Development Precision Lathes for Component Manufacturing Diagnostic Tools: Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Sensors for Performance Monitoring Calibration Devices for Fine-Tuning Enhancements and Upgrades Mech Components: Upgraded Servo Motors High-Efficiency Power Cores Customization Kits: Aesthetic Modifications (Paints, Decals) Functional Add-ons (Extra Armor, Boosters) Pilot Enhancements: Neural Interface Upgrades Enhanced Reality Visors Miscellaneous Networking Opportunities: Invitations to Industry Conferences Membership in Designer Guilds Market Insights: Reports on Emerging Trends Competitor Analysis and Benchmarking Special Contracts: Custom Design Commissions from Clients Collaborative Projects with Other Designers Welcome Pilot Stewart Do you wish to select a free mecha at this time? Quest received; 1) Basic training: Complete basic training Movement tutorial Weapons Familiarization 2) First Engagement; Join a ranked battle 3) Team support; Assist your unit by acting in an assigned role Do you wish to enter Basic Training? Chapter 6 Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Chapter 7 Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Chapter 8 If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. chapter 9 General Patton, often known behind closed doors as "Pogue One," stared intently at the map of the region, the holographic lines tracing out supply routes and defensive positions. His finger hovered over the factory site, a crucial point in his next operations phase. But for once, his mind wasn¡¯t solely on strategy or logistics. He could hear the distant cries of civilians from his window¡ªa haunting reminder of the cost of war. Lieutenant Harper stood at attention beside him, waiting for his orders. Normally, Harper would see Patton sharp and focused, ready to talk about troop movements or supply chains. But today, there was a different tension in the air. ¡°We need those 3D printers, Lieutenant,¡± Patton said, his voice low and heavy. "Without them, this factory is nothing. We¡¯ll be dead in the water before we can even get the mecha production started." "Yes, sir," Harper responded cautiously, sensing there was more to come. Patton sighed deeply, his hand running over his face as if to wipe away the weight of the day. ¡°But that¡¯s not what¡¯s keeping me up at night, Harper.¡± Harper frowned. "The civilians, sir?" Patton nodded slowly, his eyes drifting away from the map. ¡°We¡¯re setting up factories in the middle of their towns, in their backyards. They¡¯re caught in the crossfire. I¡¯ve been hearing the reports¡ªfamilies displaced, homes destroyed, and what do we offer them in return? Empty promises of protection that we can barely uphold." Harper shifted uneasily. ¡°Sir, our first priority is winning this war. The civilians are secondary to that. We can¡¯t save everyone.¡± ¡°I know that!¡± Patton snapped, but then immediately softened. ¡°I know that, Harper. But... they¡¯re not just numbers. These people... they''re part of the world we¡¯re supposed to protect. If we lose sight of that, what¡¯s the point of any of this?¡± The room fell silent for a moment, the tension thick. Patton turned back to the map, pointing at the areas marked for factory installations. "This is all well and good for production, but what happens when we¡¯re done? When the factories shut down and all that¡¯s left is rubble? We need to make sure these people aren¡¯t left behind. We can¡¯t keep treating them as collateral." Harper cleared his throat. ¡°We¡¯ve been able to secure Slippery Jim¡¯s printers, sir. If we move forward, we¡¯ll have what we need to start production by the end of the week. But you know what dealing with Jim means. The black market, the underhanded deals¡ªit comes at a cost. And not just to our reputation.¡± Patton grimaced at the mention of Slippery Jim. The thought of working with that slime made his stomach churn, but there wasn¡¯t another option. They couldn¡¯t source the equipment fast enough through legitimate channels, not with the war escalating and resources growing scarcer by the day. ¡°Jim¡¯s a necessary evil,¡± Patton muttered. "He¡¯s the only one who can get us the large-scale 3D printers we need. But if we¡¯re going to work with him, we need to do this on our terms. No deals that throw civilians under the bus.¡± Harper looked confused. ¡°Sir, what do you mean?¡± Patton tapped the map again, this time pointing to a small, unmarked section of the town near the factory site. ¡°We¡¯ll move the civilians. Quietly, without alerting the enemy. Find them new homes, better shelters, away from the fighting. The factories will still run, but they won¡¯t be living in a war zone.¡± ¡°But General, that¡¯s a massive undertaking. How do we justify diverting resources for civilian relocations when we¡¯re struggling to keep up with military demands?¡± Patton¡¯s gaze hardened, but there was a hint of something more behind his eyes¡ªa flicker of humanity that hadn¡¯t been entirely snuffed out by the years of battle. ¡°Because we can¡¯t win this war if we lose the people we¡¯re fighting for. You think they¡¯ll ever trust us again if we abandon them now? If we let them think they¡¯re expendable? This isn¡¯t just about victory on the battlefield, Lieutenant. It¡¯s about what comes after. When the smoke clears, we¡¯ll need more than just factories. We¡¯ll need their trust.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Harper stood silent for a moment, processing the weight of his commander¡¯s words. He had never seen this side of Patton before, the man who was dubbed ¡°Pogue One¡± because of his cold, calculated moves. It was strange to see the general care so much about the collateral damage of war. ¡°I¡¯ll make the arrangements,¡± Harper said finally. ¡°We¡¯ll begin the relocations. But sir, if Slippery Jim catches wind that we¡¯re pulling resources for non-military purposes¡ª¡± ¡°Let me worry about Jim,¡± Patton said, cutting him off. ¡°I¡¯ll handle him. Our priority is getting those printers and setting up the factory. But we¡¯ll do it without crushing the people we¡¯re meant to protect. Understood?¡± Harper nodded, saluting. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± As the lieutenant turned to leave, Patton¡¯s eyes drifted back to the map. He was a man of strategy, of plans and contingencies, but no plan accounted for the sheer chaos that war unleashed on those who had no part in it. The civilians weren¡¯t soldiers, but they were in the thick of it, and that weighed heavier on him than he cared to admit. ¡°Harper,¡± Patton called out as the door was opening. The lieutenant stopped and turned. ¡°One more thing¡ªdon¡¯t let anyone else know we¡¯re working with Slippery Jim. Not even the other officers. This stays between us.¡± Harper gave a curt nod. ¡°Understood, sir.¡± As the door closed behind his aide, Patton leaned over the table, his hands gripping the edge. The war wasn¡¯t going to be won by military strength alone¡ªit would be won by ensuring there was still something left to protect when the fighting was done. Slippery Jim might get his printers, but the people? The people would be protected, no matter what. "Where are we on locating designers and technicians?" Patton asked, his voice gruff with frustration. Emil, his logistics chief, straightened up from his chair, holding a clipboard. "We¡¯re finding technicians, sir. Hell, we even had a seventy-eight-year-old tap and die machinist volunteer. Came out of retirement, said he wanted to help any way he could. But the designers¡­ that¡¯s another story," he said, his voice dipping as he trailed off. Patton stopped his pacing and turned to face Emil. "What''s the problem?" Emil sighed, flipping through the notes. "There were three top-tier mecha designers outside of the main college, all with active projects. Unfortunately, they were hunted down by enemy intelligence units before we could secure them. Killed or captured¡ªwe don¡¯t know which. There¡¯s one in custody we managed to get from the Kovacs affair, but his specialty is materials science, not the actual design of combat mechs." Patton¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Materials design? That¡¯s not enough. We need battle-ready minds who can push our machines beyond the current gen. What about this Kovacs guy?¡± Emil hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "Last we heard, he was alive, sir, but that was a few days ago. He¡¯s been slippery, avoiding direct contact ever since the ambush near the city center. His name keeps coming up in intelligence reports, though. Word is, he¡¯s more than just a tech. He¡¯s got talent, but¡­" Emil paused, glancing at the general¡¯s tense expression. "But what?" Patton snapped. "But he¡¯s not fully under our control. From what we can gather, Kovacs has been moving around, maybe trying to stay off the radar. He¡¯s been working on mechs, for sure, but it¡¯s unclear who he¡¯s working with. There are rumors he¡¯s got ties to some of the underground outfits¡ªmight even be playing both sides." Patton frowned deeply, running his hand over his jaw as he processed this. Kovacs was a wildcard, and in a situation like theirs, wildcards could be dangerous¡ªbut they could also be the key to survival. ¡°And you¡¯re certain his skills go beyond materials? He¡¯s got the potential we need?¡± Patton asked, his voice lowering with a note of consideration. "From everything we¡¯ve heard, yes. He¡¯s brilliant with advanced design systems and modifications. Some of the stuff he¡¯s worked on is top-notch¡ªcould change the tide of this war. But like I said, sir, he¡¯s not easy to pin down. And he¡¯s got his own agenda." Patton stared at the map, his mind turning over options. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to lose someone like that. Keep an eye on him. If we can¡¯t bring him in willingly, we¡¯ll make him an offer he can¡¯t refuse. If he¡¯s really as good as they say, he might be the answer we need. What about his old professors? Anyone still around who could give us leverage?¡± Emil shook his head. ¡°Not many, sir. Most of the faculty have either fled or been eliminated. The military¡¯s taken over most of the schools, and the ones who resisted¡­ well, let¡¯s just say they¡¯re not teaching anymore.¡± Patton grunted. ¡°Of course. Well, find out where Kovacs is hiding, and bring him in. Make sure it¡¯s clear¡ªhe¡¯s either with us, or against us. We can¡¯t let talent like that slip away.¡± Emil nodded, scribbling down notes. ¡°Understood, General. I¡¯ll get our agents on it.¡± Patton returned his gaze to the strategy board, staring at the array of unfulfilled objectives. The war was grinding on, and they were running out of time. Every delay, every lost opportunity, brought them closer to defeat. But if Kovacs really had the skills, if they could bring him in¡­ then maybe, just maybe, they could turn things around. ¡°Keep me updated,¡± Patton ordered, his tone final. ¡°And Emil¡ªdon¡¯t let him slip away. Not this one.¡± "Yes, sir." Emil saluted, then hurried out of the room, leaving Patton alone with the map, the sounds of the distant war echoing in the background. CHapter 10 The next morning, Kovacs awoke to the sound of crying and shouting, piercing the stillness of dawn. His eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the gaps in the makeshift shelter. The clang of metal tools and low hum of the mechs had been replaced by a different kind of chaos¡ªone filled with desperation and grief. He groaned as he pushed himself upright, feeling a sharp cramp in his hip. The pain was a familiar one, a dull throb that had worsened from the long march the day before. He winced, stretching his leg gingerly, then peered out from where he¡¯d been sleeping near the mechs. Outside, a crowd had gathered, spilling across the clearing. Refugees¡ªmen, women, children¡ªmany of them visibly injured and clearly starving. The sight was gut-wrenching: hollow-eyed adults carrying limp, malnourished bodies, soot-covered faces streaked with tears, and wounded limbs hastily wrapped in bloodied rags. Kovacs grabbed his jacket and limped out into the cold morning air, his hip protesting with each step. The scene was worse up close. A group of med techs was working frantically, trying to triage the worst cases. A frail-looking woman, her hair matted with dirt and sweat, was leaning over a young child with severe burns on her arms and legs. Nearby, another child, barely old enough to walk, sat shivering, a deep gash visible on his forehead. "God," Kovacs muttered, his throat tightening at the sight of the children. He wasn¡¯t a medic, but he couldn¡¯t stand by and do nothing. With a deep breath, he forced himself forward, pushing past the bodies and crouching down beside one of the med techs. "What happened here?" he asked, voice low. The med tech, a young woman with dark circles under her eyes, barely glanced at him. "Shelling," she said tersely, hands moving quickly to clean the burns on the child in front of her. "They were caught in the crossfire. Most of them lost everything." Kovacs'' jaw tightened. His gaze moved across the makeshift medical area. It was clear they were low on everything¡ªbandages, antiseptics, painkillers. He felt a surge of frustration at his own helplessness. But then his hand instinctively reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the small bottle of pain medication he¡¯d been rationing for himself. He had only a few pills left, and each one was precious¡ªneeded to dull the pain that haunted him day and night. He looked at the bottle, then back at the children, the burns on their thin bodies, the ragged gasps of pain escaping from their lips. It was no choice at all. Kovacs fished out the bottle and held it out to the med tech. She paused, her eyes flicking to the pills, then back to him, unsure. "Take it," he said, pushing the bottle into her hands. "It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯ll help with the worst of the pain." The med tech looked at him, her expression a mix of surprise and gratitude. "Are you sure? You look like you could use it yourself." Kovacs gave a faint, bitter smile. "I¡¯ve had pain almost all my life. I can live through it. They can¡¯t." The med tech nodded slowly, taking the bottle. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft, touched with exhaustion. "It¡¯ll help a lot. You don¡¯t know how much." Kovacs limped back to the mechs, every step a reminder of the pain he¡¯d chosen to endure. The camp was buzzing with activity as people tried to tend to the wounded and find food, but Kovacs¡¯ focus was singular: getting these mechs into fighting shape. The machines stood in a ragged line, battered and neglected. Kovacs surveyed the rusted frames and cracked armor plates. His gut told him that getting even one of them fully operational would be a miracle. With a sigh, he grabbed a crowbar and pried open the access panel on one of the *Roundheads*. Inside was chaos: frayed wires, burnt-out circuits, and leaking hydraulic lines. "Alright, let¡¯s get to work," he muttered to himself. He rummaged through the pile of spare parts nearby¡ªbits of mismatched armor, lengths of twisted wiring, and random metal scraps that seemed more likely to fall apart than hold anything together. Using makeshift tools and whatever materials he could find, Kovacs began the arduous process of patching up the mechs. It was all improvised¡ªsealing ruptured lines with scraps of metal, reinforcing joints with salvaged bolts, and bypassing damaged circuits with lengths of spare wiring. It was a grind, but Kovacs fell into a rhythm. He ignored the throbbing pain in his hip, his fingers moving steadily as he reconnected loose wires and welded broken components back together. Then, something unexpected happened. A strange sense of satisfaction welled up inside him as he made progress¡ªa feeling he hadn¡¯t experienced in a long time. Suddenly, his HUD flickered to life, and a notification flashed across his vision:Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. [System Notification] Skill Learned: Jury Rigging 1 Description: You have mastered the basics of improvisational repair. You can now fix mechs and machinery with whatever materials are available, albeit temporarily. Award: 200 Points for Self-Learning Kovacs paused, blinking in surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected the system to reward him for this. It was a hard-won, improvised skill¡ªborn of necessity rather than design. He quickly glanced at his point total, which had increased to 712. It wasn¡¯t much, but it felt like a small victory in the middle of this chaotic battlefield. ¡°Not bad,¡± he muttered, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. The added points were a welcome surprise, and he knew they could be useful when he next had access to a terminal. But right now, he had to focus on the task at hand. The *Roundhead* was starting to show signs of life. Its servos moved with slightly less resistance, and its targeting systems, while still outdated, were coming back online. The repairs weren¡¯t pretty, but they were functional¡ªgood enough for a fight, if the militia needed one. Just as Kovacs was tightening the last bolt on the mech¡¯s knee joint, Prentis approached, his expression a mix of exhaustion and curiosity. ¡°How¡¯s it going, Kovacs? Making progress?¡± Kovacs straightened up, wincing slightly as his hip protested. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, wiping grime from his hands. ¡°These mechs are in terrible shape, but I¡¯m getting somewhere. I¡¯ve got this one moving again, at least.¡± Prentis surveyed the mech, eyebrows raised. ¡°Damn, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d actually get any of them running. I mean, look at these things¡ªthey¡¯re practically relics.¡± Kovacs allowed himself a brief, tired grin. ¡°Relics, sure. But even relics can fight if you know how to coax them back to life.¡± Prentis shook his head, a mixture of admiration and worry on his face. ¡°I¡¯m impressed, but I¡¯ve got to say¡ªI don¡¯t like this, Kovacs. The more you fix, the more valuable you become to them. You really think they¡¯ll just let us walk away after this?¡± Kovacs met Prentis¡¯ gaze, his expression hardening. ¡°I know the risks. But we need these mechs operational. If a fight comes¡ªand you know it will¡ªwe¡¯ll need all the firepower we can get. This is the only way we stand a chance.¡± Prentis ran a hand through his hair, clearly torn. ¡°Just be careful, alright? These militia guys are desperate. They might decide they need a mechanic more than they need to keep their word.¡± Kovacs nodded, returning to his work. ¡°I¡¯ll be careful, Prentis. But for now, I¡¯ve got to keep going.¡± Prentis watched him for a moment longer, then sighed. ¡°You¡¯re stubborn as hell, you know that?¡± Kovacs chuckled softly. ¡°Yeah, well, it¡¯s kept me alive this long.¡± Prentis gave a slight smile, shaking his head before turning to leave. Kovacs glanced back at the *Roundhead*, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The mechs weren¡¯t perfect, but they were better than before. He could keep pushing forward¡ªone bolt, one patch, one improvised fix at a time. *** Captain Hale stood at the edge of the makeshift command post, arms crossed as he watched Kovacs work on the ancient mechs. From where he stood, Hale could see the man¡¯s movements¡ªquick, precise, like someone who had done this a thousand times before. It was impressive, no doubt. But it was also troubling. "Do you think it¡¯s him?" Hale asked quietly, glancing sideways at the unit¡¯s lead technician, Tanner, a grizzled veteran with silver hair and a cynical edge to his voice. Tanner squinted through a pair of binoculars at Kovacs, then lowered them with a grunt. "I¡¯ll be a blue-balled badger if it isn¡¯t. Whoever he is, he¡¯s got hands of gold. I¡¯ve seen him turn those rust buckets into something that almost resembles a fighting mech." Hale let out a slow breath, his face lined with the weight of command. "Command¡¯s been dropping hints about this Kovacs guy," he said, voice low. "Seems he¡¯s got skills worth protecting¡­ but they¡¯re not saying why. Could be he holds some secrets, something that could tip the scales. But all I¡¯ve got right now are whispers, nothing concrete." Tanner shook his head, the skepticism clear on his face. "Sir, whispers don¡¯t stop bullets. If the enemy¡¯s after him, keeping him here puts us all in their crosshairs. We¡¯re already stretched thin¡ªhe could be the reason we get wiped out, not saved." Hale¡¯s eyes remained fixed on Kovacs, who was currently prying open a rusted panel on one of the mechs. ¡°I get it,¡± Hale muttered. ¡°He¡¯s either the biggest asset we¡¯ve seen in weeks or the biggest risk. And I can¡¯t prove either one.¡± Tanner leaned against a nearby crate, wiping oil-stained hands on his rag. "Sir, if he¡¯s really got something worth hiding, you think he¡¯d just be fixing up our mechs like a regular tech? It doesn¡¯t add up." Hale nodded slowly, still unsure of what to make of Kovacs. The man was clearly skilled¡ªperhaps one of the best he¡¯d seen¡ªbut was that skill born from experience, or was it tied to something deeper? Something dangerous? "Maybe Command knows more than they¡¯re telling us," Hale said, almost to himself. "Or maybe they¡¯re keeping us in the dark for a reason." Tanner crossed his arms, his voice turning grim. "Command¡¯s got a history of leaving us with more questions than answers. But if they really want Kovacs, we need to get him out of here before the enemy comes sniffing around." Hale felt the tug of duty versus practicality. If Kovacs had secrets, handing him over might be critical for the war effort. But it could also mean a fight they couldn¡¯t win. He glanced around the camp, seeing his men working with renewed energy on the now-operational mechs, thanks to Kovacs. "If we try to get him evac, we¡¯re risking our position," Tanner warned. "And there¡¯s no guarantee Command will even get here in time." Hale clenched his jaw, the indecision gnawing at him. ¡°If he¡¯s as important as Command hints, we owe it to the war effort to get him to safety. I can¡¯t just ignore that.¡± Tanner regarded Hale with a wary look. "So, you¡¯re calling this in?" Hale¡¯s eyes were still on Kovacs, who was now working on a delicate wiring repair. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said finally. ¡°Get me the comms. I¡¯ll report his position and request immediate evac.¡± Tanner handed over the comm device, his expression a mix of concern and resignation. "Just hope you¡¯re right, sir. If Kovacs really has secrets, I guess it¡¯s better they¡¯re in our hands than someone else¡¯s." Hale nodded, dialing into a secure frequency. ¡°Yeah,¡± he muttered, his voice barely audible. ¡°But right now, I¡¯m gambling on a hunch.¡± As the comm device buzzed to life, Hale kept his gaze on Kovacs, a man who might hold the key to victory¡ªor disaster. Only time would tell which one. Chapter 11 who
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Field Generator Chapter 12 ¡°Their records mention containment failures,¡± Clive explained, glancing at the Egg with a mix of fascination and unease. ¡°The device¡¯s systems were stable when they left the facility, but halfway through their journey, strange anomalies began occurring. Equipment malfunctions, time discrepancies in their logs, and... missing crew members.¡± ¡°Missing?¡± Patton asked, his tone skeptical. Clive nodded. ¡°The logs are fragmented, but it seems the device started drawing in matter around it. Small objects at first¡ªtools, loose components. But it escalated. By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late. The ship destabilized, and the crew abandoned ship.¡± Patton frowned. ¡°And this device survived intact?¡± ¡°Yes, which is a testament to its design,¡± Clive said. ¡°It¡¯s built to withstand extreme conditions. Whatever their intentions were, this wasn¡¯t some crude prototype. It¡¯s advanced¡ªfar beyond anything we¡¯ve seen.¡± Patton took a step closer to the Black Egg, studying its seamless surface. ¡°You¡¯re telling me this thing is a black hole in waiting?¡± ¡°In essence, yes,¡± Clive said. ¡°If activated, it creates a singularity¡ªa gravitational collapse that pulls in all matter within range until equilibrium is reached. Unlike conventional weapons, it doesn¡¯t rely on explosive force. Its destructive potential is... limitless.¡± Patton¡¯s expression didn¡¯t waver. ¡°And yet here it is, sitting on my desk, ready for deployment.¡± Clive hesitated. ¡°General, I must stress that we don¡¯t fully understand this device. If it malfunctions, if something goes wrong... the consequences could be catastrophic.¡± Patton¡¯s lips tightened into a grim line. ¡°Dr. Clive, we¡¯re fighting a war. The enemy has a factory ship out there producing mechs faster than we can destroy them. If this weapon can take that ship out, I don¡¯t care about the risks.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just a matter of risk,¡± Clive insisted. ¡°This device doesn¡¯t differentiate between friend and foe. Once the singularity forms, it will consume until there¡¯s nothing left within its range. That factory ship won¡¯t be the only thing destroyed.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a chance I¡¯m willing to take,¡± Patton said flatly. Clive stepped forward, her tone softer but no less urgent. ¡°General, I understand the stakes. But this isn¡¯t just another weapon. This is a relic of a long-dead civilization¡ªa civilization that may have been wiped out because of devices like this. We¡¯ve uncovered enough to know they abandoned this technology for a reason.¡± Patton turned to her, his gaze hard. ¡°And yet they built it. And now it¡¯s in our hands. We didn¡¯t ask for this war, Doctor, but we¡¯re damn sure going to finish it. If that means using their mistakes to ensure our survival, so be it.¡± Clive sighed, clearly realizing there was no changing his mind. ¡°At least allow me to monitor the device during deployment. If there¡¯s even a fraction of a chance to control or mitigate its effects¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯ll have full access,¡± Patton said, his tone softening slightly. ¡°But understand this: I¡¯m not looking for control. I¡¯m looking for results. That factory ship falls, no matter the cost.¡± Clive nodded reluctantly, glancing once more at the Black Egg. ¡°Let¡¯s hope your gamble pays off, General. For all our sakes.¡± The Black Egg, silent and unmoving, seemed to mock her unease with its quiet, ominous presence.
The transport shuddered as it sped low over the rough terrain, its engines roaring in a determined nape-of-the-earth flight. The cabin was dimly lit, filled with the tense silence of soldiers steeling themselves for what lay ahead. Sitting near the front, Jackie Stewart kept her gaze forward, trying to keep her mind focused on the mission. The volunteers from the barracks sat across from her, exhaustion visible on their faces. It had been a grueling few days, and the sudden call-up for an extraction had left them running on fumes. The sergeant, a grizzled man named Barrett, leaned forward and addressed them in a low, almost fatherly tone. "Get some rest while you can," he advised, his voice rough but sincere. ¡°This might be the only downtime you get.¡± One of the younger privates, eyes half-lidded with fatigue, grunted in acknowledgment, shifting to find a more comfortable position on the hard bench. His rifle rested across his lap, hands never far from it, even as his head drooped. Barrett then turned to Stewart, who was still wide-eyed and alert. ¡°Ma¡¯am, you might want to get some rest, too,¡± he suggested gently. ¡°If things go south, you¡¯ll need every bit of energy you¡¯ve got.¡± Stewart managed a tired smile, her blue eyes showing gratitude and determination. ¡°I know, sergeant,¡± she admitted, her voice softer now. ¡°But I¡¯ve never been good at sleeping before a fight.¡± Barrett gave a slight nod. ¡°I hear that. Just don¡¯t let it get to you. We need you sharp when we hit the ground.¡± The cabin rocked slightly as the pilot made a sudden adjustment, skimming over a rise before diving back into a narrow valley. The flight was harrowing, the transport zigzagging to stay under enemy radar, but the engines'' steady rhythm and the cabin''s darkness made it oddly restful. The hum of the machinery and the slight vibrations became a strange lullaby, allowing some of the men to finally drift off into a restless sleep. Stewart leaned back against the cold metal wall, momentarily closing her eyes. Her mind raced with what she knew of the mission: a high-risk extraction, a contested landing zone, and the unknown factors of the evac site. But there were no answers in the darkness behind her eyelids, just the endless churn of questions and worry. The fleeting rest was shattered when the red lights flickered on inside the cabin, accompanied by a harsh buzz. Barrett kicked the nearest soldier awake, his voice suddenly sharp. ¡°Wake up! LZ¡¯s under fire! Move, move, move!¡± Stewart¡¯s eyes snapped open, adrenaline flooding her veins as she lurched upright. The once-quiet cabin instantly turned chaotic, with the volunteers shaking off sleep and grabbing their weapons. The transport jolted as incoming fire peppered the air around them, the sound of distant explosions growing louder. ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡± Stewart shouted over the comms, her voice urgent as she tightened the straps on her gear.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The pilot¡¯s voice crackled back, full of tension. ¡°LZ is hot, Cadet Stewart. We¡¯ve got hostiles all over the site¡ªsnipers and at least one heavy gun emplacement on the south ridge. I¡¯m going to try to get you down, but it will be rough!¡± The volunteers readied themselves, rifles up, eyes alert as they waited for the ramp to lower. Stewart turned to Barrett. ¡°Sergeant, keep the unit tight. We need to move fast once we hit the ground.¡± Barrett nodded, his eyes scanning the ramp as if trying to see through the thick metal. ¡°Copy that, ma¡¯am. We¡¯ll form a perimeter the second we¡¯re out. You lead, we¡¯ll follow.¡± The transport rocked violently, taking evasive maneuvers as more gunfire rattled the hull. The air was filled with the sounds of combat¡ªexplosions, the whine of bullets, and the sharp staccato of enemy rifles. "Brace!" the pilot yelled over the comms. ¡°We¡¯re going in hard!¡± The transport dropped suddenly, and the ramp lowered even before hitting the ground. A blast of cold air and gunfire filled the cabin, the biting scent of smoke and burning vegetation overwhelming. ¡°Go, go, go!¡± Barrett shouted, and the volunteers charged down the ramp, boots hitting the dirt hard as they fanned out. Stewart was behind them, her heart pounding as she entered the scene. The landing zone was a hellscape¡ªsmoke billowed from a burning supply truck nearby, and the ground was pockmarked with craters from recent shelling. Bullets whizzed past, tearing through the air. ¡°Snipers!¡± one of the volunteers shouted, pointing toward the ridge to the south. ¡°We¡¯ve got to clear that high ground, or we¡¯re sitting ducks!¡± Stewart gritted her teeth, adrenaline sharpening her senses. ¡°Volunteers, on me!¡± she shouted, raising her rifle. ¡°Sergeant, take half and secure the evac point. We¡¯ll push for the ridge and clear it!¡± Barrett nodded, already issuing orders. ¡°You heard the cadet! Hold the perimeter, give ¡®em cover fire!¡± Stewart sprinted forward, the volunteers at her side as they charged toward the ridge. The ground was rough and uneven, the sounds of gunfire and explosions deafening, but they pressed on. Bullets snapped past her head, but she kept moving, feeling the heat of battle surge through her veins. ¡°Almost there!¡± she yelled over her shoulder. ¡°Keep pushing!¡± Stewart dropped to a knee as they reached the ridge base, scanning the rocks above. ¡°Private, give me cover fire! I¡¯m going up!¡± Without hesitation, one of the volunteers unleashed a burst of suppressive fire, the heavy rounds tearing into the rocks. Stewart surged forward, climbing the rough slope, her rifle ready. The enemy sniper¡¯s position became clear, and a flash of muzzle fire gave him away. Stewart squeezed off two quick shots and kept advancing, her breath coming in ragged gasps. ¡°Clear!¡± she shouted to the squad, her voice hoarse. ¡°Ridge is secure¡ªmove the asset up now!¡± The volunteers and Barrett¡¯s group began to converge on the extraction point, securing the area as the transport circled back for pickup. The sounds of gunfire faded into the background as the urgency of the mission took over. ¡°Good work, ma¡¯am,¡± Barrett said as they regrouped, his voice heavy with exhaustion but full of respect. ¡°You handled that like a pro.¡± Stewart nodded, still catching her breath. ¡°Wasn¡¯t pretty, but we¡¯re getting out of here in one piece.¡± The transport touched down, the ramp lowering again. The team piled in, bodies bruised and battered but alive. As they lifted off, Stewart allowed herself a moment of relief. The mission wasn¡¯t over, but they had survived the worst of it¡ªfor now.
Captain Hale stood in the dimly lit command post, a thin layer of dust coating the rough wooden floor. His comms officer handed him a freshly printed communique, the paper still warm from the machine. Hale read the message quickly, his eyes narrowing at the cryptic phrasing: "The postman is en route for the package. Ensure it¡¯s ready for collection." Hale¡¯s jaw tightened. It was the confirmation he¡¯d been waiting for. Kovacs was no ordinary evac, and whoever was behind this extraction wasn¡¯t playing by the usual rules. He turned to Sergeant Anders, his voice low but commanding. ¡°Round up Kovacs and his escort. We¡¯ve got orders to have him ready for immediate pickup. Make it fast, Sergeant.¡± Anders, a seasoned soldier with a grizzled demeanor, nodded sharply. ¡°Yes, sir,¡± he replied, already moving toward the door. ¡°I¡¯ll bring him in.¡± The sergeant moved quickly through the makeshift camp, the urgency clear on his face. He spotted Kovacs working on one of the battered mechs, hands deep in its exposed wiring. ¡°Kovacs!¡± Anders barked, catching the man¡¯s attention. ¡°You¡¯re needed in the command post. Now.¡± Kovacs looked up, his brow furrowed with suspicion. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Orders from Captain Hale,¡± Anders replied, his tone leaving no room for questions. ¡°You¡¯re being moved out. Grab your gear and come with me.¡± Kovacs wiped his hands on a rag, clearly reluctant to leave the half-fixed mech behind, but he complied. His escort, a small group of militia fighters who had taken a liking to the mechanic, closed in protectively as they made their way toward the command post. As they entered the structure, Hale was waiting, his expression serious. ¡°Kovacs,¡± he said, motioning for him to step forward. ¡°You¡¯re getting extracted. A special team is coming for you.¡± Kovacs¡¯ eyes narrowed. ¡°Why now? What¡¯s changed?¡± Hale didn¡¯t answer, but his expression was tense. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for questions. Just be ready to move as soon as they arrive.¡± Before Kovacs could respond, the sharp, unmistakable sound of explosions ripped through the air, followed by the eerie whine of incoming artillery shells. Hale¡¯s head snapped up, and within seconds, the first impacts hit the treeline just beyond the camp. ¡°Get down!¡± he shouted, grabbing Kovacs and pulling him to the floor as debris and dirt flew through the open windows. The command post shook violently, rattling under the pressure of the blasts. The ground outside erupted in a hail of shrapnel and splintered wood, the once-sturdy trees collapsing in a cascade of destruction. ¡°Enemy fire!¡± Anders shouted over the din, his voice barely audible above the explosions. ¡°Looks like they found us!¡± Hale cursed under his breath, pushing himself up from the floor and glancing outside. The treeline was a burning chaos, smoke billowing up as more shells slammed into the ground. ¡°They¡¯re trying to cut off the evac!¡± he yelled to Anders. ¡°We need to move Kovacs now, or we¡¯ll lose our window!¡± Kovacs struggled to his feet, adrenaline surging through his veins. He looked at Hale, determination etched on his face. ¡°I¡¯m game.¡± Hale gave him a hard look, his eyes reflecting the moment''s urgency. ¡°Don¡¯t get blown to bits. Stay close and follow my lead.¡± Anders barked orders to the militia escort. ¡°Keep tight around Kovacs! Get him to the extraction point before the postman arrives!¡± He said, pointing to the young man. The air around them seemed to tremble as the whine of approaching engines grew louder. A dark shape appeared above the chaos of gunfire and explosions, cutting through the smoke¡ªA Peregrine, a fast-attack gunship designed for close support, roaring in low over the treeline. Its under-mounted cannons opened up immediately, hammering the advancing enemy mechs with a barrage of heavy shells. The impact was brutal and immediate. The lead mech staggered under the sudden onslaught sparks flying as its armor buckled and cracked. Two more enemy mechs attempted to advance, but The Peregrine adjusted its angle, bringing its cannons to bear with pinpoint accuracy, sending shells slamming into their torsos. "That¡¯s our cover!" Hale shouted, his voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the gunship¡¯s cannons. ¡°Push forward now!¡± The evac team surged forward as The Peregrine continued to pour fire onto the enemy position. One of the enemy mechs, a bulky, two-legged brawler, took a direct hit to its left leg, causing it to stumble and crash sideways into the dirt. The machine¡¯s massive frame groaned as it struggled to rise, but before it could recover, one of the soldiers broke from the group, sprinting toward it with reckless abandon. ¡°Cover him!¡± Anders yelled, raising his rifle to provide suppressing fire. The soldier, a young private named Cole, dodged through the battlefield with remarkable speed. He reached the downed mech, climbing up its massive shoulder and toward its head. The enemy pilot inside seemed disoriented, and the mech twitched and shifted erratically, trying to regain balance. Cole didn¡¯t hesitate. He pulled a magnetic charge from his pack and slapped it onto the base of the mech¡¯s head, the device adhering with a loud clang. He leaped off the mech without a second¡¯s pause, hitting the ground hard and rolling to minimize the impact. ¡°Fire in the hole!¡± he yelled, scrambling for cover. The charge detonated in a blinding flash, followed by a deafening explosion. The shaped charge sent metal fragments into the pilot compartment, smoke billowing from the gaping hole where the cockpit had been. Sparks erupted from severed wiring, and the mech¡¯s body jerked violently, its systems failing in a cascade of electrical bursts. The machine collapsed onto its side, its massive form crumpling like a broken toy. The Peregrine continued its strafing run, pounding the remaining enemy forces as the evac team finally pushed to the extraction point. Chapter 13 Jackie¡¯s eyes locked onto the downed enemy mech, smoke billowing from the wreckage. The charge had blown into its head, but the massive frame remained intact¡ªa rare opportunity. The urgency of the moment overrode any sense of caution. She unbuckled and leaped the fifteen feet from The Peregrine¡¯s loading bay, landing hard in a crouch. ¡°That¡¯s my ride!¡± she yelled back to the crew, already sprinting toward the fallen mech. ¡°Cover me! I¡¯m taking it!¡± Anders, still firing from cover, shouted after her. ¡°Are you crazy? It¡¯s trashed!¡± But Jackie didn¡¯t stop. She knew the risks, but she also knew that no enemy mechs had been captured intact¡ªever. Every attempt had failed due to their self-destruct mechanisms or heavy combat damage. If she could get inside this one, even in its damaged state, they might recover critical intel.
Kovacs sprinted toward the extraction zone, the noise of gunfire and explosions echoing around him. His breath came in ragged gasps, his hip protesting with every step, but he couldn¡¯t afford to slow down. The evacuation was underway, and he had to make it to the transport before it took off. As he approached the clearing, he caught sight of *The Peregrine*, its engines roaring as it hovered just above the ground. The ramp was still down, waiting for the evac team to board. Kovacs pushed himself harder, closing the distance. Then he saw something unexpected. A figure leapt from the open bay of *The Peregrine* and hit the ground with a roll, coming up fast. It was a woman in combat gear¡ªher short-cropped hair and sharp movements marking her as a pilot. Without missing a beat, she sprinted toward the recently downed enemy mech, the one still smoking from the shaped charge that had blown apart part of its head. ¡°What the hell?¡± Kovacs muttered under his breath, watching her move with purpose through the chaos. As she reached the mech, he heard her shout over the noise, her voice filled with urgency. ¡°Cover me! I want to capture it!¡± Kovacs'' eyes widened. Was she serious? The mech was still mostly intact, but it was a mess of sparking wires and half-mangled armor. He knew from experience that trying to get inside an enemy machine¡ªespecially one that had just been blown apart¡ªwas a gamble at best. But he also knew that no one had ever managed to capture one of these mechs intact. His instinct was to keep running toward the evac zone, to secure his own escape. But something inside him shifted. This was an opportunity, one that could provide critical intel for their side. He couldn''t let it pass. ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered again, veering off course and heading toward the fallen mech. The pilot had already reached the base of the head and was prying at the damaged hatch with a crowbar. Kovacs picked up his pace, adrenaline surging. ¡°Hey!¡± he shouted as he got closer. ¡°You really think you can get that thing moving?¡± She turned to him briefly, surprise flickering in her eyes. ¡°You got a better idea? This is our shot¡ªno one¡¯s ever captured one of these intact!¡± Kovacs reached her side, glancing at the twisted metal and sparking wires. ¡°Fine, but you¡¯re going to need help. That blast probably fried half the systems.¡± ¡°Then get inside and see what you can do!¡± she shot back, her tone urgent but not unkind. Kovacs hesitated for only a second before climbing up next to her. The hatch was partially open, just wide enough to squeeze through. He wedged himself inside, the smell of burnt circuitry hitting him like a wall. The cockpit was cramped and dark, with the body of the dead enemy pilot slumped in the seat, helmet shattered. ¡°Jesus,¡± Kovacs muttered, trying not to focus on the grim sight. He quickly cleared the space, making room for the woman behind him to slide into the pilot¡¯s seat. ¡°I¡¯m Jackie,¡± she said, introducing herself as she strapped in, her hands already moving over the ruined controls. ¡°Kovacs,¡± he replied, connecting a diagnostic tool from his pack to the main console. ¡°And this is insane, you know that, right?¡± Jackie grinned, her eyes focused but determined. ¡°That¡¯s what makes it worth it. Can you bring the core systems online?¡± Kovacs checked the status of his device. ¡°It¡¯s not good. The core¡¯s barely responsive, and the interface is a mess. But I can try to reroute power to the manual controls.¡± ¡°Do it,¡± she urged. ¡°We don¡¯t have time.¡± With shaking hands, Kovacs began patching wires and bypassing the shattered circuits. Sparks flew, and warning alarms blared, but the mech shuddered to life. The lower HUD screens flickered, showing incomplete data streams. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was something. ¡°It¡¯s moving!¡± Jackie shouted, excitement in her voice. She gripped the controls, coaxing the massive machine to its feet. It staggered, its servos groaning, but it managed to stand. From behind, Anders¡¯ voice came through the comms, urgent and strained. ¡°What the hell are you two doing? We¡¯re getting hammered here!¡± ¡°Bringing you a souvenir!¡± Jackie replied, her tone triumphant. ¡°We¡¯re moving to the LZ¡ªcover us!¡± The sight of the enemy mech rising to its feet seemed to shock the advancing forces. For a moment, they hesitated, unsure whether to attack or retreat. Kovacs climbed back out of the cockpit, jumping to the ground as the mech lurched forward under Jackie¡¯s control. He ran alongside it, heading toward the extraction point. ¡°Nice work, Kovacs!¡± Jackie shouted from inside the mech, her voice crackling over the comms.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. He managed a grin, adrenaline surging. ¡°You¡¯re not out of this yet! Let¡¯s move before they get their act together!¡± Together, they pressed toward the extraction point, the captured mech limping forward amidst a hail of gunfire. It was risky, dangerous, and more than a little reckless. But it was the kind of win they desperately needed.
The militia unit had waited in tense silence, half the men on the verge of running and the other half steeling themselves to fight. The air was thick with a mixture of fear and anticipation as they crouched behind what little cover they had. For what felt like hours, they had been pinned down, desperate for any sign of hope. Then came the signal. The pilots rushed to their mechs, scrambling into cockpits that were a mix of rust, patched plating, and hastily repaired systems. The mechs groaned and sputtered to life, a rough symphony of grinding gears and creaking servos. Those that Kovacs had worked on were noticeably different. The pilots exchanged surprised looks as systems flickered on, screens that had been blank for months now showing diagnostic data. The targeting systems, which had always been a lost cause, were suddenly functional, albeit with some quirks. Cooling systems ran smoother, hydraulic joints responded faster, and even the armor integrity indicators flashed green for the first time in ages. ¡°Damn,¡± one of the pilots muttered as he fired up the systems. ¡°Didn¡¯t think this old rig had it in her.¡± ¡°He¡¯s good, I¡¯ll give him that,¡± another pilot replied, running a quick test of his weapons. The autocannon spun up smoothly, and the missile system, long considered useless, locked onto targets with surprising efficiency. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got a fighting chance.¡± Five of the six mechs roared to life, the sixth sputtering and stalling despite all efforts to revive it. The five that remained functional stomped forward, weapons primed. The militia pilots, hearts pounding with renewed courage, maneuvered into formation. ¡°Alright, boys,¡± the unit leader called over the comms, his voice rough but full of fire. ¡°We¡¯ve waited long enough. Hit their flank, and hit it hard! Kovacs got us this far¡ªlet¡¯s make it count!¡± With a surge of energy, the militia mechs broke from cover and charged toward the enemy formation¡¯s exposed side. The terrain was rough, littered with debris and craters, but the mechs pushed through with determination. The enemy, focused on the main front, was caught off-guard by the sudden assault from the flank. The militia mechs opened fire, autocannons roaring and missile racks unleashing volleys of firepower. The lead enemy mech, a bulky brawler model, reeled under the impact, its armor denting and cracking as the militia fire tore into its side. Another enemy mech tried to pivot, bringing its weapons to bear, but a volley of rockets from one of the militia machines struck it square in the torso, causing it to stagger back. ¡°Keep pushing!¡± the militia commander shouted, adrenaline surging through his veins. ¡°They¡¯re breaking formation!¡± The pilots pressed harder, their mechs moving with a speed and responsiveness that felt almost foreign to them. It was clear that Kovacs¡¯ touch had made a difference¡ªengines ran hotter but didn¡¯t overheat, targeting was sharper, and movement was more fluid. One militia mech, a battered *Musketeer* model, slammed into an enemy scout mech with its shoulder, sending the lighter machine crashing. Its pilot quickly followed up, launching a point-blank barrage that tore through the enemy¡¯s midsection. The enemy forces, suddenly disoriented, scrambled to counter the unexpected assault. The militia pilots, sensing the momentum shift, fought with desperation and newfound confidence. This was their chance, perhaps their only one, and they knew it. The militia mechs kept up the assault, driving into the heart of the enemy formation with everything they had. For the first time, it wasn¡¯t just about surviving¡ªit was about turning the tide. The militia mechs tore into the enemy flank, guns blazing and missiles streaking across the battlefield. It was a desperate gamble, but the surprise and ferocity of the assault threw the enemy into chaos. The ragtag group, with mechs barely held together by Kovacs¡¯ last-minute repairs, pushed forward like men possessed. Autocannon rounds pounded the lead enemy mech, a heavy brawler model that staggered under the barrage. It tried to bring its weapons to bear, but a barrage of rockets from one of the militia *Roundheads* hit it square in the side, crumpling armor and sending sparks flying. ¡°Keep up the pressure!¡± the militia commander barked over the comms, his voice crackling with static. ¡°Don¡¯t let them regroup!¡± The militia pilots, fighting with a mix of fear and adrenaline, followed the order, their mechs pressing harder. The enemy forces were still reeling, and three of their mechs were now showing heavy damage indicators on the militia HUDs. "One down!" a militia pilot shouted, triumph evident in his voice as an enemy mech collapsed, its systems sparking and failing. The downed machine slumped forward, its cockpit aflame. ¡°Two more are in critical,¡± another pilot called out. ¡°They¡¯re pulling back!¡± As the militia mechs advanced, the pilots scanned their screens for targets. But amidst the chaos, something strange flashed across their HUDs. A fourth enemy mech, previously engaged in the thick of combat, suddenly shifted from red to green on the Friend or Foe (FOF) indicator. ¡°What the hell?¡± one of the militia pilots muttered, his eyes widening. ¡°That¡¯s not right.¡± ¡°Check your sensors,¡± another pilot yelled. ¡°FOF¡¯s showing it as friendly!¡± Confused but wary, the militia commander¡¯s voice cut through the comm chatter. ¡°That¡¯s impossible. I had it confirmed¡ªone of theirs, reported as KIA. How the hell is it showing as friendly now?¡± The mech in question, a medium-weight scout unit with a partially blown-off shoulder, stopped firing and pivoted, its stance suddenly non-threatening. It raised an arm, not in attack, but in what appeared to be an attempt to communicate. ¡°Could be a trick,¡± one of the militia pilots warned, his finger hovering over the trigger. ¡°Hold fire!¡± the commander ordered, his instincts torn between caution and curiosity. ¡°Let¡¯s see what it¡¯s doing.¡± The unexpected shift in allegiance was bizarre and unprecedented. The militia pilots, already on edge, kept their weapons trained on the mech but refrained from shooting. ¡°It¡¯s broadcasting a signal,¡± one of the tech specialists in the group said, quickly analyzing the feed. ¡°Encrypted, but it¡¯s a friendly handshake protocol.¡± ¡°Who the hell would switch sides in the middle of a fight?¡± the commander asked, his eyes narrowing at the mech. A hesitant but familiar voice came over the comms, breaking the tension. ¡°It¡¯s Stewart,¡± the voice said, a mix of urgency and relief. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot! I¡¯ve got control of this mech!¡± There was a stunned silence before the commander spoke again. ¡°Stewart? You captured it?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± she replied breathlessly. ¡°It¡¯s barely holding together, but I¡¯ve got it moving. Took over the comm systems too, but I need cover¡ªthis thing won¡¯t last long if I take another hit.¡± The commander¡¯s expression shifted from confusion to determination. ¡°All units, shift focus! We¡¯ve got one of our own in that machine. Give her cover fire and keep pushing forward!¡± The militia mechs adjusted their formations, some breaking off to protect the newly friendly mech while others pressed the attack on the remaining enemy units. The once-rogue mech, now piloted by Jackie Stewart, moved awkwardly but steadily, joining the formation. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you did it,¡± one of the militia pilots said over the comms, a mix of admiration and disbelief. ¡°Believe it,¡± Stewart replied, trying to maintain control as the damaged machine stumbled forward. ¡°But let¡¯s make sure it wasn¡¯t for nothing.¡± The battle shifted in favor of the militia. Stewart¡¯s captured mech unexpectedly boosted their ranks, and the enemy¡¯s flank collapsed further, disoriented by the sudden betrayal. "Push them back! Don¡¯t let them regroup!" the commander ordered, his voice filled with newfound hope. The militia mechs surged ahead, the captured enemy mech now fighting alongside them, its weapon systems firing in unison with the others. Already battered and confused, the enemy forces finally fell under a barrage of laser fire. Chapter 14 The enemy commander¡¯s fist slammed down on the table, causing the gathered officers to recoil. A slow, burning anger simmered in his chest. It wasn¡¯t the first time they had lost equipment, but a whole mecha? That was a blatant show of incompetence¡ªone he would not tolerate. He stood, eyes sweeping over the room. Each face reflected the gravity of the situation. *Good*, he thought. They needed to understand the weight of this failure just as much as he did. ¡°The intelligence we gathered was clear, and yet they managed to recover *our* unit. I want answers, and I want them *now.* How did this happen? Who was responsible for securing that mecha?¡± His voice rang through the room like a shot. A murmur rose among the officers, but no one seemed willing to speak. He felt the heat rising in his veins, the urge to lash out barely held in check. ¡°Do you realize what this means?¡± he asked, voice low but edged with threat. ¡°Our designs, our tech¡ªnow in *their* hands. They''ll dissect it, learn from it, and use it against us.¡± He paused, letting the words hang in the air. ¡°This could cost us the entire campaign. We will not be outmaneuvered by incompetence.¡± One of the officers finally stepped forward, clearing his throat nervously. ¡°Commander, we¡¯re tracking their location. We believe they haven¡¯t had time to relocate it yet. We can still mount a retrieval operation.¡± The commander narrowed his eyes, considering the possibility. It was a risk, but letting them keep the mecha was unacceptable. ¡°Do it. No resources spared. I want that mecha back, or I want it reduced to slag. Make sure they understand that this will not be without consequence.¡± Turning sharply to the map displayed on the holoscreen, he issued the final order with cold, clipped words: ¡°If it comes to it, we destroy everything within a mile radius. The enemy will not profit from our mistakes.¡±
An actinic flash was visible from the back of the transport, its searing brightness lingering in the air like a harsh afterimage. Still catching her breath, Jackie glanced at the dirty young man beside her. ¡°Thanks for the help with the mech,¡± she said, her voice laced with exhaustion. ¡°I couldn¡¯t have gotten it moving, much less fought it, if you hadn¡¯t done¡­ whatever it was you did.¡± Kovacs, who was leaning against the transport¡¯s interior wall, gave her a half-hearted smile. His face was smeared with grime, and his movements were slow, like he was running on the last fumes of adrenaline. ¡°It was no problem,¡± he replied simply. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small data stick and holding it up for her to see. ¡°I downloaded what I could from the system,¡± he continued. ¡°I hope it¡¯ll help us figure a few things out.¡± Jackie eyed the data stick, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s worth it. That was a hell of a risk.¡± Kovacs nodded, slipping the data stick back into his pocket. "We¡¯ll know soon enough." His voice carried a mix of cautious hope and weary determination. ¡°Do you know where we are going?¡± the young man asked, his voice edged with uncertainty. ¡°I know where I¡¯m stationed,¡± Jackie replied with a shrug. ¡°But not where you¡¯re headed.¡± She extended her hand toward him. ¡°I¡¯m Jackie.¡± The young man looked down at her hand momentarily before taking it. ¡°I¡¯m Kovacs,¡± he said simply, his grip firm but brief. As soon as he let go, a pained expression flickered across his face, like a sudden reminder of something buried deep. ¡°You alright?¡± Jackie asked, a hint of concern creeping into her tone. ¡°Yeah, I will be,¡± Kovacs said, forcing a faint smile. ¡°Just¡­ a long day.¡±
The general¡¯s aide barged in again, urgency clear in his expression. Emil Patton, known to many as ¡°Pogue One,¡± lay on his couch, attempting to rest after a grueling eighteen-hour day. His uniform was still half-buttoned, and dark circles framed his eyes. ¡°Sir,¡± the aide said quietly, his voice just loud enough to rouse the exhausted man. Patton stirred, blinking rapidly as he tried to orient himself. ¡°What is it?¡± he asked, his voice rough from fatigue. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and trying to shake off the fog of exhaustion.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The aide shifted uneasily. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to disturb you, sir, but this couldn¡¯t wait.¡± The aide shifted his weight, his face a mix of urgency and restrained excitement. ¡°Sir, the package was retrieved. Additionally¡­ one of our cadets managed to capture an enemy unit.¡± Patton¡¯s eyes snapped fully open, and he swung his legs off the couch, suddenly alert. ¡°A captured enemy unit? Are you certain?¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the aide confirmed, nodding. ¡°The retrieval team radioed in about twenty minutes ago. They secured the package, but the unexpected part is that one of the cadets took control of a hostile mecha during the operation.¡± Patton ran a hand through his disheveled hair, absorbing the news. ¡°Who was the cadet?¡± he asked, suspicion mixed with curiosity in his tone. ¡°A Cadet Jackie Stewart, sir,¡± the aide replied. ¡°She was with the support unit and managed to improvise her way into commandeering the enemy¡¯s machine.¡± Patton let out a low, thoughtful hum. ¡°Stewart¡­ interesting. A risky move, but damn if it doesn¡¯t show initiative.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the aide agreed. ¡°Command is requesting your decision on how to proceed with both the captured unit and Cadet Stewart. They want to know whether to bring the unit here for inspection or to move it to a secure facility.¡± Patton stood up, rolling his shoulders to shake off lingering stiffness. ¡°Bring it here,¡± he ordered. ¡°I want to see what we¡¯re dealing with firsthand. And make sure Stewart is debriefed thoroughly¡ªI want to hear exactly how she pulled this off.¡± The aide nodded. ¡°Understood, sir. I¡¯ll arrange it immediately.¡± As the aide hurried out of the room, Patton¡¯s gaze turned distant, a mix of calculation and something like pride crossing his face. "Well, this just got interesting," he murmured to himself, feeling the flicker of opportunity amid the chaos.
Slippery Jim leaned forward across the scarred wooden table, his eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement. The smoke-filled back room of the warehouse had a stale, sour smell, but Jim didn¡¯t seem to notice. He was too focused on the deal. Across from him sat Alphonse, a broad-shouldered man with a face carved from years of street fights and shady dealings. Despite the grim reputation that preceded him, Alphonse was calm, his expression unreadable. ¡°They¡¯re willing to pay anything for the printers,¡± Jim pressed, lowering his voice conspiratorially. ¡°And you¡¯re practically selling them at cost. What gives?¡± Alphonse didn¡¯t respond immediately. He reached for a cigar, taking his time to light it with an old brass lighter. The moment stretched on, smoke curling lazily from his lips. ¡°Jim,¡± he finally said, his voice low and gravelly, ¡°you¡¯ve always been sharp. You know how to spot a good deal. But sometimes, it ain¡¯t about the money.¡± Jim frowned, leaning back in his chair, still not convinced. ¡°It¡¯s always about the money, Alphonse. Especially with you lot.¡± He gestured broadly, trying to break through Alphonse¡¯s calm exterior. ¡°These three-D printers you¡¯re pushing? They can churn out anything¡ªspare parts, weapons components, even armor plating if you have the right materials. The Duchy would kill for this kind of tech. But you¡¯re barely making a profit. It doesn¡¯t add up.¡± Alphonse¡¯s lips curved into a slight, knowing smile. ¡°You¡¯re right. I could make a lot more, selling to the highest bidder. But who that bidder is matters more than you think.¡± He let the words hang, watching Jim¡¯s reaction carefully. Slippery Jim shook his head, confusion giving way to irritation. ¡°Who cares who¡¯s buying? They¡¯ve got the coin, and you¡¯ve got the goods. What¡¯s the problem?¡± He glanced over his shoulder, instinctively making sure Johnson, the supposed ''boss,'' wasn¡¯t paying too close attention. The man leaned against a far wall, more interested in the ceiling than the conversation. Alphonse let out a deep chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re not getting it, Jim. This isn¡¯t just business¡ªthis is about where my loyalty lies.¡± Jim¡¯s eyes narrowed, a sudden understanding starting to dawn. ¡°Loyalty? You¡¯re telling me you¡¯re doing this out of some kind of patriotism? For the Duchy?¡± The incredulity in his voice was unmistakable. Alphonse nodded, his gaze turning hard. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m saying. The Duchy¡¯s had my back more than once, even when I didn¡¯t deserve it. I might be a thief, a thug, and whatever else you call me, but I¡¯m not a traitor.¡± Jim sat there for a moment, stunned. The idea of Alphonse¡ªwho¡¯d robbed armored convoys and shaken down entire neighborhoods¡ªhaving a patriotic streak seemed absurd. ¡°So you¡¯re giving them these printers because... what? Do you think it¡¯ll help the war effort? Help defend the Duchy?¡± Alphonse took another puff of his cigar, then nodded. ¡°Something like that. Those printers could be the difference between winning and losing. And I¡¯ll be damned if I sell ¡®em to someone who might use ¡®em against us.¡± Jim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Alright, but let¡¯s talk logistics then. The delivery¡ªwhat¡¯s the plan? You¡¯re moving high-demand tech, and you¡¯re including the raw materials to run the machines, right? That¡¯s a lot of weight, a lot of risk.¡± Alphonse nodded. ¡°We¡¯ve got three transport trucks lined up. The first trucks got the printers packed in heavy crates to make them look like mining gear. The second truck¡¯s got the raw materials¡ªfilament spools, metal powder, and the special resin for the more complex builds. We¡¯ve even got a batch of schematics pre-loaded. All that¡¯s being run by a crew I trust, and they know the back roads.¡± Jim raised an eyebrow. ¡°And the third truck?¡± Alphonse smirked. ¡°Decoy. Filled with scrap metal and some second-rate spare parts. It¡¯ll look like the real deal, but it¡¯s just there to draw off any bandits or border patrols sniffing around.¡± Jim let out a low whistle. ¡°You¡¯ve thought this through.¡± ¡°Of course I have,¡± Alphonse replied flatly. ¡°This is bigger than just a sale, Jim. It¡¯s about ensuring the right people get what they need to keep the Duchy standing. I may play dirty, but when it comes to the Duchy, I play to win.¡± Jim¡¯s skepticism softened a bit. ¡°Alright, Alphonse. I didn¡¯t peg you for a man of principle, but I suppose I can respect that.¡± He paused, still curious. ¡°But you sure you want to put that much trust in Johnson over there? You¡¯ve got a lot riding on this.¡± Alphonse glanced at Johnson, who seemed more bored than anything. He then looked back at Jim. ¡°Johnson¡¯s just a front, Jim. Keeps things simpler that way. Sometimes, it¡¯s better when people underestimate who¡¯s really running the show.¡± Slippery Jim¡¯s grin returned, wider than before. ¡°I suppose it is, Alphonse. I suppose it is.¡± Chapter 15 Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
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Chapter 20 If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Chapter 21 If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Chapter 22 If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Weapon Assembly and Construction. Weapon Assembly and Construction, Weapon Assembly and Construction Purchased: This course covers the fundamentals of weapon system assembly, including structure, firing mechanisms, component compatibility, and efficiency optimization. Ideal for designers and operators who wish to improve their ability to modify and enhance weapon systems.¡± Chapter 23 If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Chapter 24 Stolen novel; please report. Chapter 25 The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Chapter 26 The production facility hummed with activity, the low whirring of 3D printers filling the air as Kovacs and Pitt moved through the setup. The approval of the Lee prototype had ignited a new level of urgency in Kovacs¡ªthis was no longer a design on paper. It was real, and he was determined to oversee every step. As they approached the printers, Kovacs meticulously examined the setup. The two sleek and efficient printers were each the size of a small vehicle, their internal mechanisms already preparing the raw materials. Pitt, a tall woman with strong features softened by a hard smile, adjusted the calibration on one of the machines, her fingers deft as she worked. Kovacs nodded approvingly. ¡°The dual printer setup gives us an advantage here. We should be able to build the Lee in half the standard time, safety checks included.¡± Pitt raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her dark eyes. ¡°That¡¯s only if everything goes perfectly. One jam, one hiccup, and we¡¯re looking at hours of downtime.¡± ¡°Then we won¡¯t let that happen,¡± Kovacs replied, his tone steady. ¡°I¡¯m not taking any chances with this. I want the Lee to be flawless.¡± A low chuckle escaped Pitt as she smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. ¡°You¡¯re a perfectionist, I¡¯ll give you that. But it¡¯s refreshing. Most people rush this part.¡± Kovacs met her gaze, a glint of determination in his eyes. ¡°Good design is only as strong as its execution. Let¡¯s get this thing rolling.¡± Together, they approached the control panel, with Kovacs inputting the specs for the build. The printers roared to life, and layer by layer, the Lee¡¯s frame began to take shape before their eyes. Pitt let out a low whistle, watching the intricate patterns form. ¡°It never gets old, watching these things build from the ground up. The kind of detail you can get with these machines... it¡¯s something.¡± Kovacs nodded, his eyes fixed on the emerging structure. ¡°There¡¯s something surreal about it. Seeing the design come to life¡­ knowing it will be out there, supporting soldiers in the field.¡± The first day passed quickly as they monitored the build, Kovacs scrutinizing every detail. He ran diagnostic scans every few hours, checking material integrity and stability to ensure no errors had crept in. Pitt¡¯s expertise kept things running smoothly, and her efficiency and attention to detail balanced his intensity. By the end of the first day, the frame was nearly complete, and the printers were moving with mechanical precision as they began working on the final components. Pitt stretched, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck. ¡°One day down, one to go. You¡¯re lucky we¡¯ve got two of these beauties,¡± she said, patting one of the printers. ¡°Without them, we¡¯d be looking at a week-long build.¡± ¡°True,¡± Kovacs admitted, glancing at the partially assembled Lee. ¡°But speed doesn¡¯t mean much if it¡¯s not stable. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll run full diagnostics and safety checks on every component before assembly.¡± Pitt smirked, folding her arms. ¡°Safety checks, huh? You¡¯ve got more patience than most designers I¡¯ve worked with. But I respect that¡ªyou want it perfect.¡± Kovacs didn¡¯t smile back, his focus intense. ¡°Exactly. We¡¯re not just building a prototype; we¡¯re setting a standard. This Lee needs to be ready for anything.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Kovacs and Pitt were back at the station the next morning before dawn. The printers had finished, leaving a collection of parts waiting for assembly. Kovacs surveyed the components and mentally ran through his checklist. Each piece was critical, and each connection was designed with precision. Pitt rolled up her sleeves, eyeing the parts. ¡°Alright, boss. Where do we start?¡± Kovacs handed her a tablet with the assembly order. ¡°Start with the lower frame and limb connectors. We¡¯ll work our way up, section by section. I want each joint tested for movement and weight tolerance before moving to the next.¡± Pitt raised an eyebrow. ¡°Testing each joint? That¡¯ll add hours to the assembly.¡± ¡°Then that¡¯s what we¡¯ll do,¡± Kovacs said firmly. This thing needs to be field-ready from day one. It''s not like we don¡¯t have help, " he said, gesturing at the technicians standing idly watching the build. Pitt sighed, a small smile as she shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re a stickler, Kovacs. But alright, let¡¯s make it bulletproof.¡± They worked in focused silence, assembling the mecha with a precision that bordered on obsession. Each joint, each panel, and each connection was checked, double-checked, and tested. Pitt occasionally muttered under her breath but didn¡¯t allow a helper to skip a single check. Halfway through the assembly, Pitt looked over, her expression mixed with admiration and exasperation. ¡°I¡¯ve worked with many designers, but most would¡¯ve called this thing done hours ago. You¡¯re treating it like it¡¯s going to the front lines tomorrow.¡± Kovacs met her gaze, his voice calm but determined. ¡°Because one day it will. And when that day comes, I want it to be as close to perfect as possible.¡± Pitt nodded slowly, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ¡°Alright, then. Let¡¯s make it perfect.¡± By late afternoon, the Lee stood fully assembled in the center of the production bay. Kovacs circled it slowly, examining every detail. The mecha was everything he¡¯d envisioned¡ªsleek, agile, with reinforced joints and modular points for easy equipment swaps. Pitt joined him, wiping her hands on a rag as she admired their work. ¡°Well, there it is. Thirty tons of scout mecha, ready for action. You satisfied?¡± Kovacs didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he moved to the control panel, pulled up the diagnostic logs, and ran one final check. The readings came back clean: structural integrity, power distribution, and sensor alignment were all within optimal parameters. Finally, he nodded. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m satisfied. But now comes the real test.¡± As if on cue, the door opened, and General Patton entered, flanked by Captains Reyes and Carter. They approached Lee, but their expressions were unreadable as they took in the prototype. Patton gave a nod of approval, turning to Kovacs. ¡°Impressive work, Mr. Kovacs. I see you took extra precautions with the safety checks.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Kovacs replied, standing at his version of attention. ¡°I wanted to ensure it meets the highest standards before it sees the field.¡± Reyes circled the Lee, studying it with a critical eye. ¡°Not bad. Thirty tons, modular design. You¡¯re confident this can handle recon and rapid deployment in hostile environments?¡± Kovacs nodded. ¡°Sir. It¡¯s designed for speed and adaptability. With the right loadout, it can handle a range of scenarios.¡± Captain Carter moved closer, examining the joints and connectors. ¡°And stability? How quickly can it swap out components?¡± ¡°Every mount is standardized,¡± Kovacs explained. ¡°It takes less than an hour to change loadouts, depending on complexity. I reinforced the modular points to handle frequent changes without compromising durability.¡± Patton nodded approvingly. ¡°Good. I want this prototype deployed for field testing immediately. Reyes, Carter, you¡¯ll oversee the tests and put it through every scenario Kovacs outlined. I want a full report on its strengths and weaknesses.¡± Reyes grinned, giving Kovacs a nod. ¡°We¡¯ll see what it can handle. Don¡¯t worry¡ªwe¡¯ll put your work to the test.¡± Carter gave him a curt nod as well. ¡°We¡¯ll know soon enough if your design holds up.¡± As they left to prepare for testing, Kovacs stood back, watching as the Lee was wheeled toward the deployment bay. This was it¡ªthe moment he¡¯d been working toward. It was out of his hands now, but he felt a quiet pride in seeing it complete. Pitt clapped him on the shoulder, a rare smile on her face. ¡°Well, Kovacs, you did it. The Lee¡¯s ready for its first steps. Let¡¯s hope it lives up to the hype.¡± Kovacs allowed himself a small smile. ¡°It will. I¡¯m sure of it.¡± As the first Lee disappeared down the corridor, Kovacs knew he had three more mecha to complete. Chapter 27 The hangar bustled with quiet anticipation as the team prepared the Lee for its first field test. After a week of non-stop work and refining every detail, the 30-ton scout mech was finally ready for a live mission. Kovacs stood by the edge of the hangar, his eyes fixed on the Lee as the technicians made their final checks. He¡¯d poured everything he had into this design, pushing the limits on agility, speed, and adaptability. Sergeant Delaney, the veteran pilot assigned to the Lee, approached Kovacs, giving him a nod. ¡°She¡¯s a beauty, Kovacs. Lean, sleek, like she was built to cut through anything.¡± Kovacs nodded, a hint of nervous pride in his expression. ¡°She¡¯s fast, Sergeant. And those sensors should give you a wider, sharper view than anything you¡¯ve piloted before. Just¡­ let me know if anything feels off.¡± Delaney grinned. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. If something goes wrong, you¡¯ll be the first to hear about it.¡± With a firm handshake and a final look of encouragement, Kovacs watched Delaney climb into the Lee¡¯s cockpit. The hangar doors slid open, revealing a rugged stretch of test terrain designed to challenge every aspect of the Lee design. Lieutenant Harlan¡¯s Scor, a bulkier, older scout mech, waited outside, ready to serve as a comparison unit. ¡°Control, this is Lee prototype. Starting test mission now,¡± Delaney¡¯s voice crackled over the comms. The Lee powered up, its sleek frame moving forward with a hum that resonated through the hangar. Kovacs could barely breathe as he watched the *Lee* step into the sunlight, its frame catching the light as it moved with a fluidity that made it seem almost alive. Delaney pushed the throttle, and the Lee shot forward, leaving the Scor trailing behind as it sped across the terrain. ¡°Picking up data points now,¡± Delaney announced over the comms. The Lee¡¯s HUD displayed a flood of information¡ªheat signatures, structural markers, and radar scans, all updating in real time. The advanced sensor suite was proving itself, capturing details with pinpoint accuracy as Delaney maneuvered the *Lee* over rocky ground and through dense foliage. The Lee glided down a slope, its agility on full display as Delaney tested the limits of the hydraulic joints. The mech twisted and turned, navigating tight spaces and sharp inclines with ease. Harlan¡¯s Scor struggled to keep up, its heavier, bulkier frame unable to match the *Lee*¡¯s precision and speed. ¡°Kovacs, this thing handles like a dream,¡± Delaney¡¯s voice crackled in Kovacs¡¯s ear, excitement evident. ¡°Feels like she reads my moves before I make ¡¯em.¡± Kovacs allowed himself a small smile, relief mingling with pride. ¡°Glad to hear it, Sergeant. Keep an eye on the sensors; I designed them to scan wide but focus on your immediate area. If there¡¯s anything out there, you¡¯ll see it first.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. The test terrain shifted from open slopes to a narrow valley, the perfect place to test the Lee¡¯s scouting abilities. As Delaney brought the mech to a halt on a ridge, the HUD pinged, picking up faint heat signatures near a makeshift outpost down below. Several light enemy mechs were stationed around it, along with patrols moving in loose formation. Scouts like the Lee were meant to observe and report on the kind of small, isolated target. Delaney adjusted the sensor range and zoomed in for a better view. ¡°Control, we have potential hostiles at the marked location, reading multiple light mechs and automated defenses. Sending intel now.¡± ¡°Copy that, Lee prototype,¡± Control responded in a calm voice. ¡°Permission to engage minimally if you think it¡¯ll help with testing. Otherwise, proceed with caution.¡± Delaney grinned, his fingers hovering over the weapon controls. ¡°Let¡¯s see what she can do in a fight.¡± He locked onto one of the perimeter defense turrets, taking careful aim before launching a short-range missile. The projectile shot across the field, striking the turret in sparks and a twisted metal explosion. Immediately, enemy units reacted, moving into defensive positions and scanning the area. Delaney eased the * LLee back, maneuvering behind the cover as he prepared for the next move. ¡°Nice shot,¡± Harlan¡¯s voice crackled through. ¡°The Scor would¡¯ve taken twice as long to lock that target.¡± Delaney shifted to the medium laser array, bringing the Lee out from cover just enough to line up another shot. A light mech from the enemy patrol spotted him and moved forward, aiming to intercept him. Delaney squeezed the trigger, and the tri-barrel medium lasers unleashed a precise volley, beams of energy striking the enemy mech¡¯s leg and sending it staggering. The Lee handled beautifully, responding to Delaney¡¯s every command with sharp precision. He sidestepped, staying light on his feet and moving to a higher position, keeping the enemy off-balance. The HUD showed more movement up ahead, and additional patrols were alerted by the commotion. Delaney¡¯s fingers danced over the controls, launching another missile to scatter a cluster of infantry near the outpost. In the distance, the Scor lumbered up, struggling to match the Lee¡¯s rapid movements and precision targeting. ¡°You¡¯ve got quite the machine here, Delaney,¡± Harlan said, his tone tinged with respect. ¡°Kid really outdid himself.¡± Delaney transmitted the final recon data as the simulated mission wound down, marking the targets and potential weak points around the enemy outpost. The Lee had completed its objectives quickly and efficiently, gathering intel and disrupting enemy defenses without drawing too much attention. Kovacs had designed a scout with unparalleled agility and adaptability, and Delaney could feel that potential in every step, every responsive movement. Returning to the rendezvous point, Delaney could barely contain his satisfaction. The Lee had performed flawlessly, handling the mission with a blend of speed, intelligence, and tactical precision that he hadn¡¯t expected from a prototype. As he powered down and climbed out, he looked over at Kovacs, who was waiting eagerly nearby. ¡°Kovacs,¡± he said, his voice carrying a rare note of admiration, ¡°you¡¯ve built one hell of a machine here. You can see the whole battlefield fast, smooth, and those sensors. This isn¡¯t just another scout. This is a weapon, through and through.¡± Kovacs grinned, relief and pride mingling as he took in the words. The Lee had proven itself in its first real test, and he could already see the possibilities expanding. This wasn¡¯t just the end of a prototype but the beginning of something new. Chapter 28
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Chapter 30
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Chapter 31
General Patton stood behind his desk, the map of contested territories glowing on the projection wall. He tapped his fingers against the polished metal surface, his expression set in stone. The red markers on the map showed enemy positions dangerously close to critical supply routes. Time was running short, and he knew they needed to act decisively. ¡°Aide!¡± Patton barked, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room. The door opened immediately, and Lieutenant Carter stepped in, clipboard in hand. He snapped to attention, his gaze sharp. ¡°Yes, sir?¡± Patton turned toward him, his eyes narrowing. ¡°How many production stations are currently operational?¡± Carter flipped through the reports on his clipboard with practiced efficiency. ¡°Twelve, sir. All are fully functional. Each station produces ten tons of mechs daily, operating at maximum capacity.¡± Patton nodded, the numbers aligning with his expectations. ¡°Good. That gives us one hundred and twenty tons of output per day. What¡¯s the current allocation?¡± Carter consulted his notes. ¡°Approximately eight tons are allocated to the Lee, sir. The remaining forty are divided between the Grant and prototyping for the Goblin.¡± Patton frowned, his brow creasing in thought. ¡°That won¡¯t do. We¡¯re launching an offensive in ten days, Carter. Production priorities must shift immediately.¡± Carter¡¯s pen hovered over his clipboard, ready to take notes. ¡°What are your orders, sir?¡± Patton stepped closer to the map, gesturing toward the enemy positions with a broad sweep. ¡°I want three Goblins rolling off the line daily¡ªthirty tons. Those machines will be vital for infiltration and flanking maneuvers. Split the remaining capacity between the Lee and the Grant. Allocate the rest to the Sherman.¡± Carter¡¯s eyebrows lifted slightly. ¡°The Sherman, sir? That¡¯s the new fifty-ton unit Kovacs is working on?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Patton said. ¡°We¡¯ll need it to anchor our offensive. It¡¯ll be the hammer to break their lines while the Lees scout, the Grants provide fire support, and the Goblins slip behind enemy positions. Tell Kovacs to finalize Sherman¡¯s design by tomorrow. I want the first prototype rolling off the line within six days.¡± Carter nodded, furiously jotting down the orders. ¡°At fifty tons per unit, we¡¯ll be able to complete one Sherman every five days for each station assigned to it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s acceptable,¡± Patton said. ¡°The Goblins and Lees will provide speed and flexibility. The Shermans are a longer-term investment¡ªprecision tools for key engagements.¡± Carter hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat. ¡°Sir, should we reserve any capacity for contingency builds? In case the prototypes require adjustments?¡± Patton shook his head. ¡°We don¡¯t have that luxury. Kovacs doesn¡¯t miss the big details. The prototypes will need fine-tuning, but they¡¯ll be functional. If anything requires major adjustments, we¡¯ll deal with it on the battlefield.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Carter said, his pen poised for further instructions. Patton stepped back from the map, folding his arms. ¡°What¡¯s the status of the Beta Production Facility? It was slated to add six manufactories to our capacity.¡± Carter flipped through a separate report. ¡°The Beta facility is approximately 65% complete, sir. Initial testing of the infrastructure should begin within two weeks. Full operational capacity is projected for three weeks, barring any delays.¡± Patton¡¯s jaw tightened, his mind calculating. ¡°Three weeks is too long. Push the contractors. I want the first manufactories online in two weeks at most. Even partial capacity will make a difference.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll relay the order, sir,¡± Carter said, making a note. Patton leaned forward, placing his hands firmly on the desk. ¡°This offensive will require speed, precision, and overwhelming force. I want the production lines running around the clock. No delays, no excuses. If Kovacs needs anything¡ªmaterials, manpower, or additional engineers¡ªmake sure he gets it.¡± ¡°Understood, sir,¡± Carter said, snapping a crisp salute. ¡°Good,¡± Patton said, his voice quieter but no less commanding. ¡°Dismissed.¡± As Carter left the room, Patton turned back to the map. His plan was ambitious, but it was the only way to regain the initiative. With Goblins to harass and infiltrate, Lees to scout and disrupt, Grants to strike at range, and Shermans to crush resistance head-on, the enemy wouldn¡¯t stand a chance.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The pieces were moving into place, and the clock was ticking. Patton knew victory would be decided not just by strategy but by execution¡ªand he had every intention of executing flawlessly.
Jackie stood stiffly in the briefing room, her squad gathered around her in various states of attention. The air was tense; everyone knew the unexpected meeting was about something important. Jackie¡¯s jaw tightened as the lieutenant walked in, datapad in hand, his expression unreadable. He stepped to the front of the room, addressing the group with a sharp nod. ¡°Listen up. Command has new orders, and they come with some changes.¡± His eyes locked onto Jackie, and she instinctively straightened her posture. ¡°Cadet Stewart, step forward.¡± Jackie¡¯s stomach flipped, but she moved forward without hesitation, standing at attention. The lieutenant¡¯s voice was crisp, cutting through the room. ¡°Effective immediately, you are no longer Cadet Stewart. Congratulations, Sergeant Stewart. You¡¯re being promoted and reassigned.¡± Jackie blinked, processing the words. ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± she said, steadying her voice. Around her, her squad muttered their approval¡ªquiet congratulations mixed with curiosity about what this meant. The lieutenant turned back to the rest of the squad. ¡°Listen closely. The promotion isn¡¯t ceremonial. You¡¯re being assigned to train incoming recruits. Starting today, you¡¯re responsible for the next generation of mech pilots.¡± He tapped his datapad, and a list of names and assignments appeared behind the projection screen. ¡°We¡¯re working with limited resources and even less time. The Goblins are rolling off the production line now, and these recruits will pilot them. Most are displaced civilians, young men, and women between fifteen and nineteen years old. They¡¯ve been selected for their quick reflexes and familiarity with mechs¡ªmost are former Iron Wind players.¡± A murmur rippled through the room. Dren leaned back in his chair, muttering, ¡°We¡¯re training kids now?¡± The lieutenant¡¯s sharp glare silenced him. ¡°They¡¯ve lost everything¡ªhomes, families, friends. Many are angry. Some are traumatized. But they have potential, and you¡¯re going to shape it. We¡¯re running a twenty-four-seven training rotation, so get ready for long hours with no excuses.¡± He turned back to Jackie, gesturing to the names on the screen. ¡°Sergeant Stewart, you¡¯ll lead three better recruits: Jace Harland, Rina Torres, and Quinn Lorne. They¡¯ll be under your direct command.¡± Jackie studied the names, committing them to memory. ¡°Understood, sir.¡± ¡°Good,¡± the lieutenant said. ¡°The rest of you, check your assignments. Dismissed.¡±
Jackie found her recruits in the training hangar an hour later. The trio stood huddled together near one of the simulator pods, their youthful faces marked by defiance, exhaustion, and something harder to pinpoint¡ªgrief, maybe, or anger. They were smaller than she¡¯d expected, their ages more apparent in person than they¡¯d been on paper. She approached them, her boots echoing on the hangar floor. ¡°Harland, Torres, Lorne,¡± she called out. The three turned to face her. Jace Harland, a wiry boy with sharp features, narrowed his eyes as he studied her. Rina Torres, broader and sturdier, stood with her arms crossed, defiant. Quinn Lorne, the youngest-looking of the group, shifted nervously, his gaze darting between Jackie and the others. ¡°I¡¯m Sergeant Stewart,¡± Jackie began, her tone firm. ¡°You¡¯re my squad for the next ten days. My job is to teach you how to survive out there. Your job is to listen and learn.¡± Jace¡¯s lips curled into a faint smirk. ¡°Sure, Sergeant. We¡¯ll listen. We¡¯re good at that.¡± Jackie¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°This isn¡¯t a game, Harland. One mistake in a Goblin, and you¡¯re dead. If you think you can coast on attitude, you¡¯re wrong.¡± Jace¡¯s smirk faded, though he didn¡¯t reply. Rina raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s a Goblin?¡± ¡°A ten on mech,¡± Jackie replied. ¡°Fast, modular, and fragile. You¡¯ll be piloting one if you make it through training. If you can¡¯t handle it, you won¡¯t last long in the field.¡± Quinn shuffled his feet. ¡°What happens if we don¡¯t make it through training?¡± Jackie¡¯s gaze softened slightly. ¡°Then you won¡¯t be sent into combat. But I don¡¯t plan on letting that happen. You¡¯re here because you¡¯ve got potential. Now let¡¯s see if you can live up to it.¡± She gestured toward the simulator pods. ¡°First rotation is basic controls. Torres, you¡¯re up. Harland and Lorne, watch and learn.¡± Rina stepped forward, her jaw set. ¡°Got it.¡± Jackie led her to the pod, watching the recruit climb in and strapped herself into the harness. Her movements were confident but imprecise¡ªevidence of experience in virtual simulations but no time spent in real machines. Jackie nodded to the technician monitoring the pod. ¡°Run the basic maneuvering scenario,¡± she instructed. ¡°Let¡¯s see how she handles it.¡± As the simulation began, Jackie stood beside Jace and Quinn, her arms crossed. ¡°This isn¡¯t about showing off,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s about control and precision. Goblins don¡¯t have armor to save you from mistakes, so you¡¯d better get it right the first time.¡± Jace scowled but didn¡¯t argue. Quinn gave a hesitant nod, his hands fidgeting at his sides. The simulation ended with Rina veering into a hillside after narrowly avoiding enemy fire. She climbed out of the pod, her face flushed with frustration. ¡°Not bad for a first run,¡± Jackie said, her tone neutral. ¡°But not good enough. You¡¯ll run it again later. Harland, you¡¯re next.¡± Jace stepped forward, his expression guarded. As he climbed into the pod, Jackie glanced at Quinn, who stood awkwardly beside her. ¡°You look nervous,¡± she said. Quinn hesitated, then nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve never done anything like this before. What if I¡¯m not good enough?¡± Jackie¡¯s gaze softened. ¡°That¡¯s what training is for. You don¡¯t have to be perfect today. You have to try.¡± Quinn nodded again, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Jackie turned her attention back to the simulator as Jace¡¯s run began. It would be a long ten days, but if she could shape these three into pilots, it would be worth every hour. Chapter 32
Kovacs stood stiffly before General Patton¡¯s desk, the Sherman¡¯s design displayed as a three-dimensional hologram between them. The massive 50-ton mech loomed in miniature, its angular frame and weapon ports rotating slowly under the projector¡¯s glow. Patton¡¯s piercing gaze flicked from the schematic to Kovacs, his expression hard to read. ¡°It¡¯s good, Kovacs,¡± Patton said, his voice low and deliberate. ¡°Solid design. Strong weapons, decent mobility, and the right level of versatility for most engagements.¡± Kovacs felt a momentary relief, but it was short-lived as Patton leaned forward, his finger tracing the Sherman¡¯s holographic outline. ¡°But it¡¯s not enough.¡± Kovacs blinked, his brow furrowing. ¡°Not enough, sir? The Sherman is designed to anchor the offensive. It¡¯s got enough firepower to punch through entrenched positions and the armor to withstand sustained enemy fire.¡± Patton waved a hand dismissively. ¡°In theory, yes. But I¡¯ve seen how the enemy is adapting. Their lines are thicker than we anticipated, and their heavy units pack more firepower. It''ll struggle if the Sherman meets resistance from a mech equivalent or a fortified battalion. We need more than a frontline brawler. We need a battering ram.¡± Kovacs clenched his jaw. He¡¯d poured weeks into the Sherman¡¯s design, balancing firepower, armor, and speed. The idea of scrapping parts of it felt like a gut punch. ¡°What exactly are you asking for, sir?¡± Patton¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I¡¯m asking for a heavy assault mech that can shrug off anything the enemy throws at it and still deliver overwhelming firepower. More armor. More weapons. Something that can stand toe-to-toe with the heaviest opposition and walk away intact.¡± ¡°That kind of design means sacrificing maneuverability,¡± Kovacs said, his voice measured. ¡°And it will require a larger reactor¡ªsomething in the 300 KW range at least.¡± ¡°Then find a reactor,¡± Patton snapped. ¡°This isn¡¯t about compromises, Kovacs. This is about winning. I don¡¯t care if it takes every resource we have. I want the new design on my desk in three days. Understood?¡± Kovacs nodded slowly, his mind already racing. ¡°Understood, sir.¡± Patton leaned back in his chair, his expression softening slightly. ¡°I know it¡¯s a tall order, but you¡¯ve done it before. Give me a machine that breaks their backs, Kovacs. Dismissed.¡±
Kovacs sat alone in his workshop, the faint hum of the design board the only sound in the room. The conversation with General Patton lingered in his mind like an echo, the general demanded a heavier, more powerful mech weighing on him as heavily as the 75-ton Pershing would weigh on its reinforced legs. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The Sherman was solid, the Goblin was in production, and the Lee was already proving itself on the battlefield. Yet, Patton¡¯s relentless push for ¡°more¡± had forced Kovacs to confront the limitations of his work. Pulling up his account on the design network, he stared at the number in the corner of the screen: **3250 points.** The reward system was straightforward¡ªpoints earned from successful designs and implementations could be reinvested into new schematics, advanced materials, and optimization tools. He¡¯d been hoarding these points for weeks, waiting for the right moment to spend them. That moment, it seemed, had arrived. Kovacs scrolled through the available options, filtering by ¡°reactors.¡± The Sherman had pushed the limits of the 250 KW generator, and the Pershing would demand far more power. A better reactor wasn¡¯t just a luxury¡ªit was a necessity. The schematic for the Mercedes 300 KW reactor caught his eye. It was an engineering marvel, compact for its output and renowned for its reliability. The price tag was steep¡ª1750 points¡ªbut Kovacs knew it was worth everyone. He tapped the schematic, confirming the purchase. The screen flashed a brief notification: Purchase successful. Mercedes 300 KW reactor schematic unlocked. Points remaining: 1500. A faint smile tugged at his lips. With the reactor secured, he turned his attention to other potential upgrades. The optimization paths offered tools to fine-tune his designs, unlocking efficiencies that could mean the difference between a good mech and a great one. His eyes lingered on the Structural Reinforcement Package¡ªan upgrade that would allow him to balance weight and durability more effectively. It wasn¡¯t cheap, costing another 800 points, but it would address some of the stability issues he¡¯d been grappling with on the heavier models. Another tap, another confirmation. Purchase successful. Structural Reinforcement Package unlocked. Points remaining: 700. Kovacs leaned back, exhaling slowly. The remaining points would have to wait; he first needed to see how these new tools impacted his designs. Already, his mind was racing with possibilities and new knowledge as it downloaded into his brain¡ªhow to integrate the Mercedes reactor into the Pershing and utilize the reinforcement package to mitigate its weight challenges. He pulled up the Pershing¡¯s preliminary schematic, his stylus hovering over the blank screen. With the new reactor and reinforcement tools, he had a chance to push the limits of what a heavy assault mech could be. Patton wanted a battering ram. Kovacs would give him one¡ªbut it wouldn¡¯t just be powerful. It would be smart, efficient, and adaptable. As he began sketching the Pershing¡¯s frame, a flicker of excitement cut through his fatigue. This wasn¡¯t just about meeting Patton¡¯s demands. It was about proving¡ªto himself, to the engineers, and to the battlefield¡ªthat his designs weren¡¯t just machines. They were the future.
Back in his workshop, Kovacs stood before the Sherman¡¯s schematic, the familiar outline a ghost of what had to come next. He exhaled deeply and dragged the design into a secondary window. A new schematic filled the screen, its blankness as daunting as the task ahead. If the Sherman was the backbone of their strategy, the Pershing needed to be the fist.Stolen novel; please report. He began with the armor. The Sherman¡¯s plating was sufficient for moderate engagements, but the Pershing would need to take a beating from the heaviest weapons the enemy could throw at it. He layered the design with advanced composite armor, including ablative panels to reduce the impact of energy weapons. The increased thickness around the cockpit and reactor core made it nearly impervious to direct hits. Each new addition, however, added weight¡ªmore than he¡¯d anticipated. He adjusted the frame to compensate, expanding the structure to support the additional mass. Next came the weapon systems. Patton had made it clear that firepower couldn¡¯t be an afterthought. Kovacs sketched a layout with a large-bore Gauss cannon mounted in the torso. Its sheer destructive potential made it a game-changer, capable of tearing through fortifications and mech armor. He added heavy plasma cannons to the shoulders¡ªversatile weapons that could deliver sustained damage and area suppression. He incorporated a missile pod system mounted on the back to cover long-range engagements, angled for optimal firing arcs. The pod could carry guided and unguided munitions, giving the Pershing flexibility in combat. Finally, Kovacs considered the secondary armaments. The arms were fitted with autocannons and integrated melee enhancements¡ªreinforced knuckles capable of delivering crushing blows in close quarters. Spikes and bracing plates made the mech¡¯s arms as much a weapon as its cannons. When the draft was complete, Kovacs stepped back, taking in the towering figure. The Pershing was a brute¡ªa 75-ton colossus armed to the teeth. It was terrifying, even as a schematic. Yet, despite its strengths, it felt¡­ unwieldy. He tapped his comm link. ¡°Nari, get down here. We need to talk about stability.¡± Minutes later, Nari strode in, tablet in hand. She stopped short when she saw the design, her eyebrows shooting up. ¡°That¡¯s the Pershing?¡± Kovacs nodded grimly. ¡°Patton wants a battering ram. This is it.¡± Nari circled the display, her critical eye-catching every detail. ¡°It¡¯s got the firepower, no question. But with this weight? It¡¯s going to handle like a nightmare.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Kovacs said, frustration creeping into his tone. ¡°That¡¯s what I need help with.¡± Nari pulled up the Pershing¡¯s weight distribution model, her fingers dancing across her tablet. ¡°Seventy-five tons, centered mostly around the torso. Your reactor¡ªwhat are you using?¡± ¡°The Mercedes 300 KW,¡± Kovacs replied. ¡°It¡¯s the only reactor capable of powering this thing.¡± ¡°Good choice,¡± Nari said, nodding. ¡°But even with that, your mobility calculations are¡­ optimistic. Look here.¡± She pointed to the holographic projection, zooming in on the leg actuators. ¡°Your stress load is way over the threshold for these joints. You¡¯ll blow out the servos in the first engagement if you don¡¯t reinforce them.¡± Kovacs frowned, adjusting the specifications. ¡°What if we double the torque output? It¡¯ll slow the top speed but stabilize the frame during heavy movements.¡± ¡°That gets you to, what, 25 miles per hour?¡± Nari said, doing the mental math. ¡°It¡¯s fine for straight-line movement, but you¡¯ll need upgraded gyros for turning. A mech this heavy can¡¯t pivot on standard systems.¡± Kovacs sighed, leaning on the console. ¡°I¡¯ve already stretched the budget on materials. We''ll need to find weight savings elsewhere if I reinforce the legs and upgrade the gyros.¡± Nari crossed her arms, thinking. ¡°Lose the modular missile racks. Make them fixed. It¡¯s less flexible but¡¯ll save you a few tons.¡± Reluctantly, Kovacs adjusted the missile systems. ¡°Fine. But that still doesn¡¯t solve the recoil issue with the Gauss cannon.¡± Nari pulled up the weapon specs. ¡°Add recoil dampeners to the mount. It¡¯ll push the cannon further from the torso, but the extra stability will keep the mech from toppling.¡± Kovacs nodded, adding the modifications. The changes made the pershing more stable but still heavier. He felt the strain of each decision, knowing every added feature was another burden for the mech¡¯s maneuverability. ¡°We¡¯re hitting the upper limit of what the Mercedes reactor can handle,¡± Nari said, frowning. ¡°If you add anything else, you must reconfigure the power distribution.¡± ¡°Then we¡¯re done,¡± Kovacs said, stepping back. He studied the final design, his exhaustion palpable. The Pershing was no longer just a mech but a monument to Patton¡¯s demands. It bristled with weapons, its armor layered like a fortress, its legs reinforced to bear the incredible weight. ¡°It¡¯s a monster,¡± Nari said, her tone a mix of awe and apprehension. ¡°If this thing goes down, it¡¯s not because of poor design. It¡¯s because the battlefield wasn¡¯t ready for it.¡± Kovacs chuckled darkly. ¡°Let¡¯s hope the battlefield doesn¡¯t collapse under it first.¡± He saved the final design and sent it to the production team. As the hologram faded, he couldn¡¯t help but feel both pride and unease. The Pershing was powerful, but it was also a gamble¡ªa lumbering titan built to crush the enemy underfoot. ¡°All right,¡± Kovacs said, exhaling. ¡°Let¡¯s see if Patton¡¯s satisfied with his battering ram.¡±
The barracks were alive with chatter. Soldiers clustered around tables, their trays of rehydrated rations forgotten, as conversations shifted to the new mechs rolling off the production lines. The mood was a mix of excitement, curiosity, and skepticism. ¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± Private Ortiz said, leaning forward with a grin, ¡°the Goblins might look scrappy, but they¡¯re ours. The first mechs were built here on Prescott. That¡¯s history in the making.¡± ¡°History or not,¡± Corporal Vickers replied, arms crossed over her chest, ¡°those cockpits are tighter than my grandma¡¯s pantry. I squeezed into one during training, and I swear my knees still haven¡¯t forgiven me.¡± A ripple of laughter went through the group, but Sergeant Callahan, seated at the end of the table, raised a hand. ¡°Cramped or not, they¡¯re better than nothing. You¡¯d rather still be riding in those rust buckets we were getting from off-world? Half of them came missing parts or didn¡¯t even power up.¡± ¡°True,¡± Vickers admitted, ¡°but at least those rust buckets had room to breathe.¡± ¡°Room for rats, you mean,¡± Ortiz shot back, earning another round of chuckles. From the next table over, a lanky tech named Simmons chimed in, his sleeves rolled up to reveal grease-stained forearms. ¡°You infantry always complain about the cockpits, but you don¡¯t hear us techs whining about the maintenance, do you?¡± ¡°That¡¯s because you don¡¯t have to sit in them for hours,¡± Vickers quipped. ¡°Try piloting one through a combat drill and tell me you don¡¯t feel like a sardine.¡± Simmons shrugged, unbothered. ¡°Maybe so, but from a maintenance perspective, these Goblins are a dream. Everything¡¯s modular. Do you want to swap a medium laser for a small one and a heat sink? It takes half the time it would on the old rigs. And the new armor plating? It¡¯s lighter and easier to patch up.¡± Ortiz perked up. ¡°So, they¡¯re good for something, then?¡± ¡°They¡¯re good for many things,¡± Simmons said, pointing his fork at the soldier. ¡°And once we get the Grants rolling out in numbers, you¡¯ll see what homegrown engineering can do. Those things have range, speed, and enough modularity to keep even me busy.¡± Callahan grunted. ¡°I¡¯ll believe it when I see it. Right now, all I know is we¡¯ve got a handful of Goblins, and command keeps talking up the Grants like they will save the war.¡± ¡°They might,¡± Ortiz said, his tone more serious now. ¡°At least they¡¯re made here by people who know the terrain and what we¡¯re up against. That¡¯s gotta count for something.¡± ¡°It does,¡± Simmons agreed. ¡°The designers¡ªwhat¡¯s his name, Kovacs?¡ªhe¡¯s been working nonstop. Rumor has it he even argued with the engineers to get these things right.¡± Callahan raised an eyebrow. ¡°Argued?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Simmons said. ¡°They didn¡¯t trust his designs at first. Said some of the concepts were too advanced or didn¡¯t make sense. But he stood his ground. Ended up teaching them a thing or two, from what I hear.¡± Vickers snorted. ¡°Great, so our lives are in the hands of some hotshot designer who thinks he¡¯s smarter than everyone else.¡± ¡°Maybe he is,¡± Ortiz said. ¡°If these mechs hold up in the field, that¡¯s all that matters.¡± ¡°I still say they¡¯re too cramped,¡± Vickers muttered, but there was less venom in her voice now. Simmons leaned back in his chair, smirking. ¡°Cramped or not, at least you can trust them to work. And when they do break down, you¡¯ll be glad they¡¯re easy to fix. You know what a pain it was keeping those old rigs running.¡± Callahan nodded, his expression thoughtful. ¡°You¡¯ve got a point. At least these are ours. Feels different, fighting with something made by Prescott''s hands.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been saying,¡± Ortiz said, raising his cup. ¡°To the Goblins and the Grants. They might be rough around the edges, but they¡¯re ours.¡± The group raised their cups in a quiet toast, the mood in the barracks lighter now. The soldiers might not have been completely sold on the new mechs yet, but a sense of pride was growing among them¡ªa belief that these machines, however flawed, were a step toward something better. Chapter 33 The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the arid plains where the field test was about to commence. A squadron of thirteen mechs stood ready¡ªone Lee at the forefront, its lean frame bristling with advanced sensors, and twelve Goblins flanking it in a staggered formation. Their compact, aggressive designs starkly contrasted with the sleek lines of the Lee, and their spiked fists and modular weapons gave them the look of predatory creatures waiting to strike. Jackie stood inside the Lee¡¯s cockpit, her hands steady on the controls. She was nervous, but she wouldn¡¯t let it show. This wasn¡¯t just another test¡ªit was the first real deployment of the Goblins, and all eyes were on them. Her job as the Lee pilot was to scout ahead, identify targets, and feed data back to the Goblins so they could strike with precision. ¡°Squad, check-in,¡± Jackie said, her voice calm and professional over the comms. ¡°Harland here. Systems green.¡± ¡°Torres, good to go.¡± ¡°Lorne reporting. Ready to roll.¡± One by one, the Goblin pilots confirmed their readiness. Most were former Iron Wind players, raw recruits Jackie had trained herself. They were young and untested in combat, but their simulations had shown promise. ¡°Command,¡± Jackie said, switching channels, ¡°Lee and Goblins are in position. Awaiting final orders.¡± The response came immediately. ¡°Your objective is simple: neutralize the enemy fist operating in the area. Five mechs. Light and medium configurations. This is a live engagement, so expect resistance.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± Jackie replied, her fingers tightening around the controls. The squad advanced, the Goblins following Jackie¡¯s lead. Their movements were swift and fluid, the Rawlins 70 KW engines humming softly as they spread out to maintain a loose formation. The Lee¡¯s sensors swept the area, clearly showing the terrain and any potential threats. ¡°Contacts,¡± Jackie said suddenly, her HUD lighting up with signatures. Her voice was calm but edged with urgency. ¡°Five enemy mechs. Two mediums, three lights. They¡¯re holding position at the ridge ahead.¡± The faint hum of her Lee¡¯s reactor filled the cockpit, but Jackie¡¯s attention was razor-sharp on the readings. Her enhanced sensors provided detailed telemetry¡ªthe enemy mechs were spread out, with the mediums hunkered down and the lights running a predictable patrol route. ¡°Five on thirteen?¡± Harland¡¯s voice crackled through the comms, laced with a confidence Jackie hoped wouldn¡¯t turn into overconfidence. ¡°We¡¯ve got this.¡± ¡°Stay sharp,¡± she said firmly. ¡°This isn¡¯t a simulation. Follow my lead.¡± The Goblins began to fan out, their Rawlins 70 KW engines purring softly as they moved with practiced precision. Their low profiles and agile frames made them perfect for sneaking through the rugged terrain, hugging rocks and dips in the landscape to stay out of sight. Jackie directed her Lee into a forward position, its sensors scanning ahead while she stayed just outside the enemy¡¯s firing range. Her HUD flashed with a new alert. Jackie¡¯s eyes flicked to the east, where a second cluster of movement registered. She frowned. The patterns didn¡¯t match the patrol routes she¡¯d seen before. Was it another enemy squad? ¡°Command, we¡¯ve got additional movement to the east,¡± Jackie reported. ¡°Pattern doesn¡¯t match standard patrols. Recommend a cautious approach.¡± The reply came swiftly. ¡°Confirmed. Proceed, but do not engage until necessary.¡± Jackie tightened her grip on the controls, shifting the Lee into a higher gear. The mech responded instantly, its speed and agility allowing her to dart between the rocky outcroppings. The Goblins followed in her wake, their smaller frames making them nearly invisible against the jagged terrain.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. The ridge came into view, a jagged line against the orange-tinged horizon. Jackie¡¯s sensors painted a clear picture of the enemy formation. The two medium mechs were entrenched, their autocannons and missile racks sweeping the open ground below in overlapping fields of fire. The three light mechs patrolled the area, their movements methodical but predictable. ¡°Targets confirmed,¡± Jackie said, her voice crisp. She sent the telemetry to the Goblins, their HUDs lighting up with target designations and paths to optimal positions. ¡°Harland, Torres, Lorne¡ªflank left. The rest of you take the right. Wait for my signal.¡± The Goblins moved like a pack of wolves, splitting into two groups and using the terrain to mask their approach. The Rawlins engines hummed quietly, their efficiency allowing the mechs to creep undetected as they closed in on the ridge. ¡°Enemy patrol closing in,¡± Lorne reported, his voice low but steady. ¡°One light mech, forty meters out. It¡¯s coming right toward us.¡± ¡°Hold position,¡± Jackie ordered. She toggled to her secondary channel, syncing the Lee¡¯s advanced targeting system to the Goblins¡¯ HUDs. Her fingers danced over the controls, marking the enemy mech¡¯s weak points. ¡°Harland, Torres, take it down. Quickly and quietly.¡± Harland¡¯s Goblin darted forward, its compact frame a blur as it closed the gap. The Fokker medium lasers mounted on its arms pulsed with a bright blue light, twin beams slicing through the air and hitting the enemy mech¡¯s leg joints. The enemy staggered, its movements faltering. Torres followed up immediately, her Gremlin small laser spitting precise bursts of energy that targeted the enemy¡¯s weapon systems. Sparks flew as the mech¡¯s right arm was severed at the joint. A final strike from Torres¡¯ spiked fist crumpled the cockpit, and the light mech collapsed in a heap. ¡°Clean takedown,¡± Jackie said approvingly. ¡°Nice work. Now, let¡¯s take the ridge.¡± Jackie signaled the attack, and the Goblins surged forward. Harland and Torres led the left flank, while the other Goblins swept around the right. The enemy mechs on the ridge barely had time to react before the Goblins were upon them. One of the mediums turned its autocannon toward the approaching mechs, but the Goblins¡¯ speed was too much for the turret¡¯s sluggish tracking. A volley of medium laser fire from three Goblins tore into the medium mech¡¯s shoulder, disabling its primary weapon. Another Goblin leapt onto the mech¡¯s back, its spiked fists slamming into the exposed reactor housing. The medium mech collapsed, its systems going dark. On the right flank, two Goblins closed on a patrolling light mech. One of them fired a barrage of laser shots, forcing the enemy to retreat directly into the path of the second Goblin. The ambush was perfectly timed¡ªthe second Goblin¡¯s fist connected with the light mech¡¯s cockpit, shattering the glass and leaving it lifeless. The remaining enemy mechs scrambled to regroup, but it was too late. Jackie¡¯s Lee provided overwatch from a higher vantage point, feeding real-time data to the Goblins as they pressed the attack. Her targeting system highlighted weak points, allowing the Goblins to exploit vulnerabilities with surgical precision. The last medium mech tried to retreat, its missile pods firing sporadically, but a focused barrage of laser fire from the Goblins tore through its legs. It toppled to the ground with a thunderous crash. The battlefield fell silent. Smoke and debris lingered in the air as the Goblins regrouped near the ridge, their engines purring softly. Jackie¡¯s Lee descended from its overwatch position, its sensors sweeping the area for any remaining threats. None appeared. ¡°Command, this is Sergeant Stewart,¡± Jackie said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her. ¡°Objective complete. All targets neutralized. Goblins performed as expected.¡± ¡°Copy that, Sergeant,¡± Command replied. ¡°Excellent work. Return to base for debriefing.¡± As the Goblins began their journey back, the comms buzzed with chatter. ¡°Did you see that?¡± Harland said, his voice brimming with excitement. ¡°These Goblins are insane.¡± ¡°Fast, precise, and they hit like a sledgehammer,¡± Torres agreed. ¡°Kovacs outdid himself.¡± Jackie allowed herself a small smile. The mission was a success, and the Goblins had proven their worth. For the recruits, it was a confidence boost. For Jackie, it was validation. And for Kovacs, who would soon receive the mission reports, it was another step toward cementing his designs as the future of mechanized warfare. Jackie allowed herself a small smile. The recruits had performed admirably, and the Goblins had proven their worth. The mission''s success wasn¡¯t just a tactical victory but a validation of the countless hours spent designing, refining, and training. Back at the base, the debrief was brief and to the point: the Goblins were a resounding success. The recruits walked away with bolstered confidence, while Jackie felt a renewed sense of purpose. It was more than a victory for Kovacs, who watched the mission playback from his workstation. It proved that his designs weren¡¯t just ideas on a screen but machines that could win wars. Chapter 34
Kovacs stood in the assembly bay, his eyes fixed on the Pershing. The towering seventy-five-ton mech was nearly complete, its massive frame bristling with weaponry and reinforced armor. Yet, the air around him buzzed with tension. A group of engineers huddled near one of the machine¡¯s open panels, their hushed conversation punctuated by the occasional sound of tools clanging against metal. One of them finally broke away, approaching Kovacs with a grim expression. It was Nari, her datapad clutched tightly in one hand. ¡°We¡¯ve got a problem,¡± she said, her voice heavy. Kovacs sighed. ¡°What now?¡± ¡°The gyro stabilizer is defective,¡± Nari replied, holding the datapad to show him the diagnostics. ¡°We thought it was a calibration issue, but the problem is deeper. The material integrity is compromised¡ªthe housing is riddled with microfractures. It¡¯s a design flaw or a printing error. Either way, it¡¯s unusable.¡± Kovacs frowned, scrolling through the report. ¡°This was 3D printed. I triple-checked the schematics. How did this slip through?¡± Nari shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s subtle. The stress points weren¡¯t obvious in the design, but the material failed under real conditions. The stabilizer can¡¯t support the weight, and if we push it, it¡¯ll collapse.¡± ¡°So we scrap it and print another,¡± Kovacs said, though he already suspected the answer. Nari hesitated. ¡°We¡¯d be printing the same flawed design. Without addressing the root issue, we¡¯re just wasting time.¡± Kovacs felt a pit forming in his stomach. This wasn¡¯t just a setback¡ªit was a potential disaster. General Patton had made it clear the Pershing needed to be ready, and they were already working on borrowed time. *** Kovacs paced the bay, his mind racing. The stabilizer was critical to the Pershing¡¯s design; without it, the mech would be unable to balance or move effectively. A replacement would require either a corrected schematic or an entirely new approach. He hit his comm link. ¡°Pitt, get to the assembly bay. We¡¯ve got a problem.¡± Minutes later, Pitt arrived, wiping grease from her hands as she walked. She raised an eyebrow at the grim faces surrounding the Pershing. ¡°What¡¯s the crisis this time?¡± Kovacs handed her the datapad. ¡°The Gyro stabilizer¡¯s a bust. It has a flaw, either in design or print. Either way, it¡¯s toast.¡± Pitt frowned, scrolling through the diagnostics. ¡°That¡¯s not just a minor issue. Without this, your shiny new toy will face-plant the first time it takes a step.¡± ¡°Tell me something I don¡¯t know,¡± Kovacs muttered. ¡°Options?¡± Pitt grinned faintly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. ¡°Well, you¡¯re in luck. I¡¯ve been working on a few alternative stabilizers for smaller units. They¡¯re not meant for something this big but with some creative engineering...¡± Kovacs¡¯ eyes narrowed. ¡°Creative engineering? That¡¯s not exactly reassuring.¡± Pitt shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s either that or we wait for someone to fix the schematic, which will take weeks. I can tweak one of my designs to work in the short term. It won¡¯t be pretty, but it¡¯ll hold.¡± Nari interjected, her tone cautious. ¡°And if it doesn¡¯t?¡± ¡°It will,¡± Pitt said confidently. ¡°I¡¯ll reinforce the housing and redistribute the stress points. The key is adjusting the power flow so it doesn¡¯t overload. Trust me.¡± Kovacs considered her proposal. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but they didn¡¯t have many choices. ¡°How long?¡± ¡°Two days,¡± Pitt replied. ¡°Maybe less if the printers cooperate.¡± *** The next 48 hours were a blur of activity. Pitt¡¯s modified stabilizer design went into the printers almost immediately, the machines humming as they brought her adjustments to life. Meanwhile, Nari and the engineering team worked on retrofitting the Pershing to accommodate the changes. As the new stabilizer took shape, Kovacs reviewed every detail. The housing was thicker, the material reinforced to handle the additional stress. Pitt had redistributed the load across multiple anchor points, reducing the risk of failure under heavy movement. It wasn¡¯t a perfect solution, but it was functional. On the second day, the new stabilizer was installed. Kovacs watched the engineers run the initial tests, his heart pounding with every diagnostic update. The results were promising¡ªthe stabilizer held firm and the Pershing moved smoothly during its first basic movement trials. *** As the engineers finished the final checks, Nari approached Kovacs with a weary but satisfied expression. ¡°The workaround¡¯s holding,¡± she said, glancing at the Pershing as its massive form loomed over them. ¡°But this was too close, Kovacs. We got lucky this time. If Pitt hadn¡¯t had something on hand, this project would still be dead in the water.¡± Kovacs nodded, his jaw tight. ¡°This wasn¡¯t just a hiccup. It was a systemic failure. We designed a critical component that couldn¡¯t withstand real-world stresses, and no one caught it until it was too late. That¡¯s not acceptable.¡± Nari leaned against the console, crossing her arms. ¡°We need more rigorous testing protocols before these parts go into production. The printers can replicate designs perfectly, but they can¡¯t compensate for flaws in the schematics. If there¡¯s a mistake in the blueprint, all we¡¯re doing is mass-producing failures.¡± ¡°And it¡¯s not just about testing,¡± Kovacs added, pacing as his mind churned through solutions. ¡°We need redundancy. This stabilizer was the only one we had ready. When it failed, we had no alternative except Pitt¡¯s improvisation. That can¡¯t happen again. From now on, we will develop at least one backup design for every critical component.¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Nari nodded. ¡°And we need better material vetting. Those microfractures didn¡¯t come out of nowhere. If the printers are introducing defects during production, we need to know why. Are we pushing them too hard? Using substandard materials? Skipping maintenance?¡± Kovacs sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°We¡¯ve been moving at breakneck speed to meet production deadlines. I get why it¡¯s happening, but rushing things doesn¡¯t win wars. Mechs like the Pershing are supposed to give us an edge, not turn into liabilities on the battlefield.¡± Pitt strolled over, wiping grease from her hands, her trademark smirk in place. ¡°Look, you¡¯re both right, but don¡¯t get too bogged down in self-flagellation. This was a wake-up call, sure, but it¡¯s also proof we can adapt. When the stabilizer failed, we found a solution. That¡¯s worth something.¡± Kovacs gave her a pointed look. ¡°It¡¯s worth something, but it¡¯s not enough. Patching problems at the last second isn¡¯t a sustainable strategy, Pitt. You shouldn¡¯t have to scavenge your workshop every time something breaks.¡± Pitt raised her hands in mock surrender. ¡°Fair point. But let¡¯s not forget, improvisation is part of the game. No matter how much we plan, something will always go wrong.¡± Nari interjected, her tone firm. ¡°True, but we can minimize how often that happens. We need to build a better pipeline from design to production. More cross-checks, more collaboration between teams. Right now, we¡¯re working in silos. You finish a design, we print it, and only then do we discover issues. If we had engineers involved earlier, we might catch these problems before they spiral.¡± Kovacs nodded, his pacing slowing as he absorbed her words. ¡°You¡¯re right. The design process needs to be more integrated. And we need to involve the maintenance crews, too. They¡¯re the ones who¡¯ll have to keep these machines running in the field. If something¡¯s hard to repair or prone to failure, they¡¯ll spot it faster than we will.¡± He turned back to Pitt. ¡°And speaking of integration, I want your alternative designs cataloged. No more keeping your improvisations in the shadows. If you¡¯ve got a part or a workaround that could save us, I want it on file.¡± Pitt smirked. ¡°Sure thing, boss. But you know that means you¡¯ll owe me credit when my genius saves your butt again.¡± Kovacs shook his head but couldn¡¯t help a faint smile. ¡°Fine. Just make sure we don¡¯t need to call on your genius so often.¡± Nari stepped forward, her expression serious. ¡°One more thing, Kovacs. We can¡¯t keep this pace up forever. The Pershing was a massive project, pushing everyone¡ªdesigners, engineers, maintenance crews¡ªto their limits. If we keep running like this, the system will break down.¡± Kovacs nodded, the weight of her words settling on him. ¡°You¡¯re right. We¡¯ve been reacting instead of planning. That needs to change. I¡¯ll talk to Patton about extending timelines where possible. Better to have a slightly delayed mech than one that collapses on its first deployment.¡± He turned to face the Pershing, its towering form now fully operational but a stark reminder of how close they¡¯d come to failure. ¡°This isn¡¯t just about building machines. It¡¯s about building systems that work. Quality control, materials management, collaboration¡ªit all has to improve.¡± Nari smiled faintly. ¡°You¡¯re learning, Kovacs. That¡¯s the important part.¡± Pitt chuckled. ¡°Learning¡¯s great and all, but let¡¯s not forget¡ªthis beast is ready to roll now. That¡¯s what really matters.¡± Kovacs allowed himself a small smile, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. ¡°It¡¯s ready, but we¡¯re not done. This was just the first step. If we want to keep pushing the boundaries, we have to make sure our foundation is solid. No more scrambling, no more patchwork solutions. From now on, we do it right.¡± As the Pershing powered down for the final checks, Kovacs felt a sense of resolve hardening. The lessons learned here wouldn¡¯t just shape the next mech¡ªthey¡¯d shape the entire process moving forward. Because in the end, it wasn¡¯t just about building machines. It was about building the future.
General Patton stood in his private strategy room, the faint hum of the holographic display filling the air. The command table before him projected a detailed map of enemy supply routes, their glowing lines weaving across the rugged terrain of Prescott like veins pumping lifeblood into the enemy war machine. Patton¡¯s eyes remained fixed on one route in particular¡ªa key transport corridor leading directly to a high-value target: the enemy¡¯s orbital supply chain. ¡°Captain Harlow,¡± Patton called, his voice sharp and commanding. The officer stepped forward, his face pale but composed. ¡°Yes, General.¡± Patton gestured to the map, zooming in on the targeted convoy route. ¡°This is our opportunity. The enemy¡¯s convoys are their lifeline, and we will use that against them. The Black Egg will be placed in their next shipment.¡± Harlow hesitated, his brows furrowing. ¡°Sir, do we know enough about the device to risk this? If they discover it before it reaches their ship¡ª¡± ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± Patton interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯ll make sure the insertion is flawless. The device will be buried among essential supplies¡ªmaterials they won¡¯t risk inspecting too closely under fire.¡± Patton turned to Dr. Clive, who had been silent until now, standing off to the side with her ever-present datapad. ¡°Doctor, what¡¯s the status of the containment protocols?¡± Clive stepped forward, her face carefully neutral. ¡°The Black Egg is stable, General. We¡¯ve implemented shielding to mask its unique energy signature. Unless the enemy has scanning technology far beyond what we¡¯ve seen, they won¡¯t detect it.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Patton said, nodding. ¡°Now, walk me through the activation process.¡± Clive hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding. ¡°Once the device is in place and the convoy has been compromised, it will remain dormant until triggered by a remote signal. Once activated, it will reach critical mass in three minutes.¡± Patton¡¯s gaze hardened. ¡°And what happens after that?¡± Clive¡¯s tone turned cautious. ¡°General, as I¡¯ve explained, the Black Egg doesn¡¯t detonate like conventional explosives. It creates a singularity¡ªa gravitational collapse that will draw in matter until equilibrium is reached. The radius of the effect will depend on the mass amount in its vicinity. If deployed aboard the enemy¡¯s factory ship...¡± ¡°It will destroy everything,¡± Patton finished for her. ¡°Exactly as intended.¡± ¡°Captain Harlow,¡± Patton said, turning back to the officer. ¡°Your team will intercept the enemy convoy at this point.¡± He pointed to a narrow mountain pass on the map. ¡°Make it look like a standard raid¡ªdisable their escorts, seize their cargo, but let one transport slip through. The Black Egg will be in that transport.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Harlow replied, his tone steady despite the tension in his expression. ¡°And if the enemy starts inspecting the cargo?¡± ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± Patton said firmly. ¡°The convoy will be under enough pressure from your raid that they¡¯ll prioritize getting the shipment out. The key is timing. You hit them hard and fast, then pull back.¡± ¡°And if they detect the device once it¡¯s aboard their ship?¡± Harlow pressed. Patton¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°By the time they figure out what they¡¯re carrying, it¡¯ll be too late.¡± Dr. Clive cleared her throat, drawing both men¡¯s attention. ¡°General, I must remind you¡ªthis device doesn¡¯t just destroy. It erases. The gravitational pull could destabilize nearby orbital paths if it creates a singularity aboard their ship. There¡¯s no guarantee it will stop at the factory.¡± Patton¡¯s expression didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Doctor, this is war. Risks are part of the equation. If we don¡¯t use this weapon, they¡¯ll keep outproducing us, and we¡¯ll lose everything. I don¡¯t intend to let that happen.¡± Clive¡¯s lips tightened, but she said nothing further. She knew better than to argue with the general when he¡¯d made up his mind. Patton took a deep breath, his gaze returning to the map. ¡°This is our best shot at crippling their production capabilities. Once the Black Egg is aboard that factory ship, they¡¯ll lose the backbone of their war machine.¡± He turned to Harlow, his voice firm. ¡°You and your team will ensure the device is placed perfectly. No mistakes. No hesitation.¡± ¡°Yes, General,¡± Harlow said, saluting sharply. ¡°And Doctor,¡± Patton added, his tone softening slightly. ¡°Make sure your team is monitoring every detail. I want to know if there¡¯s even the slightest chance of failure before it becomes a problem.¡± ¡°Understood, General,¡± Clive replied, though the tension in her posture remained. Patton watched as the two left the room, his hands gripping the table''s edge. The Black Egg was a gamble¡ªa weapon born of a forgotten era. Chapter 35 Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Chapter 36
. Narrowing the list of potential culprits took time, but eventually, one name kept appearing:
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Chapter 37
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"Command¡­ failure¡­ pain¡­ please¡­" "Why?" is normal this Chapter 38
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Chapter 39
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Chapter 40 This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Chapter 41
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Chapter 42
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Chapter 43
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Chapter 44
Congratulations! You have advanced from Novice to Apprentice level in Materials Science, and new materials are now available for your designs. Next Step: To continue your progression, you must locate a Master to guide your development.
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CHapter 10 The next morning, Kovacs awoke to the sound of crying and shouting, piercing the stillness of dawn. His eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the gaps in the makeshift shelter. The clang of metal tools and low hum of the mechs had been replaced by a different kind of chaos¡ªone filled with desperation and grief. He groaned as he pushed himself upright, feeling a sharp cramp in his hip. The pain was a familiar one, a dull throb that had worsened from the long march the day before. He winced, stretching his leg gingerly, then peered out from where he¡¯d been sleeping near the mechs. Outside, a crowd had gathered, spilling across the clearing. Refugees¡ªmen, women, children¡ªmany of them visibly injured and clearly starving. The sight was gut-wrenching: hollow-eyed adults carrying limp, malnourished bodies, soot-covered faces streaked with tears, and wounded limbs hastily wrapped in bloodied rags. Kovacs grabbed his jacket and limped out into the cold morning air, his hip protesting with each step. The scene was worse up close. A group of med techs was working frantically, trying to triage the worst cases. A frail-looking woman, her hair matted with dirt and sweat, was leaning over a young child with severe burns on her arms and legs. Nearby, another child, barely old enough to walk, sat shivering, a deep gash visible on his forehead. "God," Kovacs muttered, his throat tightening at the sight of the children. He wasn¡¯t a medic, but he couldn¡¯t stand by and do nothing. With a deep breath, he forced himself forward, pushing past the bodies and crouching down beside one of the med techs. "What happened here?" he asked, voice low. The med tech, a young woman with dark circles under her eyes, barely glanced at him. "Shelling," she said tersely, hands moving quickly to clean the burns on the child in front of her. "They were caught in the crossfire. Most of them lost everything." Kovacs'' jaw tightened. His gaze moved across the makeshift medical area. It was clear they were low on everything¡ªbandages, antiseptics, painkillers. He felt a surge of frustration at his own helplessness. But then his hand instinctively reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the small bottle of pain medication he¡¯d been rationing for himself. He had only a few pills left, and each one was precious¡ªneeded to dull the pain that haunted him day and night. He looked at the bottle, then back at the children, the burns on their thin bodies, the ragged gasps of pain escaping from their lips. It was no choice at all. Kovacs fished out the bottle and held it out to the med tech. She paused, her eyes flicking to the pills, then back to him, unsure. "Take it," he said, pushing the bottle into her hands. "It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯ll help with the worst of the pain." The med tech looked at him, her expression a mix of surprise and gratitude. "Are you sure? You look like you could use it yourself." Kovacs gave a faint, bitter smile. "I¡¯ve had pain almost all my life. I can live through it. They can¡¯t." The med tech nodded slowly, taking the bottle. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft, touched with exhaustion. "It¡¯ll help a lot. You don¡¯t know how much." Kovacs limped back to the mechs, every step a reminder of the pain he¡¯d chosen to endure. The camp was buzzing with activity as people tried to tend to the wounded and find food, but Kovacs¡¯ focus was singular: getting these mechs into fighting shape. The machines stood in a ragged line, battered and neglected. Kovacs surveyed the rusted frames and cracked armor plates. His gut told him that getting even one of them fully operational would be a miracle. With a sigh, he grabbed a crowbar and pried open the access panel on one of the *Roundheads*. Inside was chaos: frayed wires, burnt-out circuits, and leaking hydraulic lines. "Alright, let¡¯s get to work," he muttered to himself. He rummaged through the pile of spare parts nearby¡ªbits of mismatched armor, lengths of twisted wiring, and random metal scraps that seemed more likely to fall apart than hold anything together. Using makeshift tools and whatever materials he could find, Kovacs began the arduous process of patching up the mechs. It was all improvised¡ªsealing ruptured lines with scraps of metal, reinforcing joints with salvaged bolts, and bypassing damaged circuits with lengths of spare wiring. It was a grind, but Kovacs fell into a rhythm. He ignored the throbbing pain in his hip, his fingers moving steadily as he reconnected loose wires and welded broken components back together. Then, something unexpected happened. A strange sense of satisfaction welled up inside him as he made progress¡ªa feeling he hadn¡¯t experienced in a long time. Suddenly, his HUD flickered to life, and a notification flashed across his vision:You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. [System Notification] Skill Learned: Jury Rigging 1 Description: You have mastered the basics of improvisational repair. You can now fix mechs and machinery with whatever materials are available, albeit temporarily. Award: 200 Points for Self-Learning Kovacs paused, blinking in surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected the system to reward him for this. It was a hard-won, improvised skill¡ªborn of necessity rather than design. He quickly glanced at his point total, which had increased to 712. It wasn¡¯t much, but it felt like a small victory in the middle of this chaotic battlefield. ¡°Not bad,¡± he muttered, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. The added points were a welcome surprise, and he knew they could be useful when he next had access to a terminal. But right now, he had to focus on the task at hand. The *Roundhead* was starting to show signs of life. Its servos moved with slightly less resistance, and its targeting systems, while still outdated, were coming back online. The repairs weren¡¯t pretty, but they were functional¡ªgood enough for a fight, if the militia needed one. Just as Kovacs was tightening the last bolt on the mech¡¯s knee joint, Prentis approached, his expression a mix of exhaustion and curiosity. ¡°How¡¯s it going, Kovacs? Making progress?¡± Kovacs straightened up, wincing slightly as his hip protested. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, wiping grime from his hands. ¡°These mechs are in terrible shape, but I¡¯m getting somewhere. I¡¯ve got this one moving again, at least.¡± Prentis surveyed the mech, eyebrows raised. ¡°Damn, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d actually get any of them running. I mean, look at these things¡ªthey¡¯re practically relics.¡± Kovacs allowed himself a brief, tired grin. ¡°Relics, sure. But even relics can fight if you know how to coax them back to life.¡± Prentis shook his head, a mixture of admiration and worry on his face. ¡°I¡¯m impressed, but I¡¯ve got to say¡ªI don¡¯t like this, Kovacs. The more you fix, the more valuable you become to them. You really think they¡¯ll just let us walk away after this?¡± Kovacs met Prentis¡¯ gaze, his expression hardening. ¡°I know the risks. But we need these mechs operational. If a fight comes¡ªand you know it will¡ªwe¡¯ll need all the firepower we can get. This is the only way we stand a chance.¡± Prentis ran a hand through his hair, clearly torn. ¡°Just be careful, alright? These militia guys are desperate. They might decide they need a mechanic more than they need to keep their word.¡± Kovacs nodded, returning to his work. ¡°I¡¯ll be careful, Prentis. But for now, I¡¯ve got to keep going.¡± Prentis watched him for a moment longer, then sighed. ¡°You¡¯re stubborn as hell, you know that?¡± Kovacs chuckled softly. ¡°Yeah, well, it¡¯s kept me alive this long.¡± Prentis gave a slight smile, shaking his head before turning to leave. Kovacs glanced back at the *Roundhead*, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The mechs weren¡¯t perfect, but they were better than before. He could keep pushing forward¡ªone bolt, one patch, one improvised fix at a time. *** Captain Hale stood at the edge of the makeshift command post, arms crossed as he watched Kovacs work on the ancient mechs. From where he stood, Hale could see the man¡¯s movements¡ªquick, precise, like someone who had done this a thousand times before. It was impressive, no doubt. But it was also troubling. "Do you think it¡¯s him?" Hale asked quietly, glancing sideways at the unit¡¯s lead technician, Tanner, a grizzled veteran with silver hair and a cynical edge to his voice. Tanner squinted through a pair of binoculars at Kovacs, then lowered them with a grunt. "I¡¯ll be a blue-balled badger if it isn¡¯t. Whoever he is, he¡¯s got hands of gold. I¡¯ve seen him turn those rust buckets into something that almost resembles a fighting mech." Hale let out a slow breath, his face lined with the weight of command. "Command¡¯s been dropping hints about this Kovacs guy," he said, voice low. "Seems he¡¯s got skills worth protecting¡­ but they¡¯re not saying why. Could be he holds some secrets, something that could tip the scales. But all I¡¯ve got right now are whispers, nothing concrete." Tanner shook his head, the skepticism clear on his face. "Sir, whispers don¡¯t stop bullets. If the enemy¡¯s after him, keeping him here puts us all in their crosshairs. We¡¯re already stretched thin¡ªhe could be the reason we get wiped out, not saved." Hale¡¯s eyes remained fixed on Kovacs, who was currently prying open a rusted panel on one of the mechs. ¡°I get it,¡± Hale muttered. ¡°He¡¯s either the biggest asset we¡¯ve seen in weeks or the biggest risk. And I can¡¯t prove either one.¡± Tanner leaned against a nearby crate, wiping oil-stained hands on his rag. "Sir, if he¡¯s really got something worth hiding, you think he¡¯d just be fixing up our mechs like a regular tech? It doesn¡¯t add up." Hale nodded slowly, still unsure of what to make of Kovacs. The man was clearly skilled¡ªperhaps one of the best he¡¯d seen¡ªbut was that skill born from experience, or was it tied to something deeper? Something dangerous? "Maybe Command knows more than they¡¯re telling us," Hale said, almost to himself. "Or maybe they¡¯re keeping us in the dark for a reason." Tanner crossed his arms, his voice turning grim. "Command¡¯s got a history of leaving us with more questions than answers. But if they really want Kovacs, we need to get him out of here before the enemy comes sniffing around." Hale felt the tug of duty versus practicality. If Kovacs had secrets, handing him over might be critical for the war effort. But it could also mean a fight they couldn¡¯t win. He glanced around the camp, seeing his men working with renewed energy on the now-operational mechs, thanks to Kovacs. "If we try to get him evac, we¡¯re risking our position," Tanner warned. "And there¡¯s no guarantee Command will even get here in time." Hale clenched his jaw, the indecision gnawing at him. ¡°If he¡¯s as important as Command hints, we owe it to the war effort to get him to safety. I can¡¯t just ignore that.¡± Tanner regarded Hale with a wary look. "So, you¡¯re calling this in?" Hale¡¯s eyes were still on Kovacs, who was now working on a delicate wiring repair. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said finally. ¡°Get me the comms. I¡¯ll report his position and request immediate evac.¡± Tanner handed over the comm device, his expression a mix of concern and resignation. "Just hope you¡¯re right, sir. If Kovacs really has secrets, I guess it¡¯s better they¡¯re in our hands than someone else¡¯s." Hale nodded, dialing into a secure frequency. ¡°Yeah,¡± he muttered, his voice barely audible. ¡°But right now, I¡¯m gambling on a hunch.¡± As the comm device buzzed to life, Hale kept his gaze on Kovacs, a man who might hold the key to victory¡ªor disaster. Only time would tell which one.