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What's Junk? (The Mech Touch)

M092 New
Lilly was off in space now, making connections and traveling to Cold Grave again. Bolt did not anticipate there being issues. The plan was mostly to go in and check a few things before returning. Minimal risk. Not no risk, but they'd identified most of the major threats on their first run. Two things killed you in salvaging, complacency and the unknown. Neither applied to that expedition.

He wanted to have one thing done before she returned. That would be the rifleman of their group. It was actually relatively good to do it now, his joint patent with Little Big Light had resulted in them sharing more than a few improvements with him. Morning Star's wings had been custom expert designed products. Creating a variation more suited for mass production had been relatively easy for the company once they'd gotten the blueprints.

The now dubbed Feather Chainmail component was both less finicky to repair and a bit less expensive. Not substantially mind you, but it wouldn't be the most expensive component on the mech now, provided he was careful with the design. Which he planned on being.

Designing the system was harder than designing it in the dream. Bolt had known that going in. The wing was naturally the point of pride. It was a essentially a quick deploy shield. With some clever work it could be fully deployed while the mech was firing, giving them a basically one-time block of something big or partial cover against return fire for a short time. That would be invaluable against most enemies.

After this came the weapons. Bolt kept with a laser rifle as the primary weapon despite the local circumstances. The next generation of MTA approved parts would be in a few years, and while the Sandmen were absolutely dangerous, the next generation stuff would all be lasers. Using one of Little Big Light's lasers would mean that when the next generation came about he'd just have to do a few part switches rather than completely revise the design. Bolt anticipated problems with locals more than sandmen as well. It'd be relatively trivial to switch out the weapon if needed anyway.

One laser rifle, medium range, moderate firepower. Basically a middle of the road rifle with few strengths but few weaknesses as well. He probably could tweak it, but he wanted to finalize most of the other things first.

Armor was relatively solid, generator also middle of the line. Really, all of the mech was going to be dead average, which was amusing enough that Bolt deliberately tried to tweak all of the specifications for it. This was harder than it sounded, because there was always a bit of variation, but making a mech dead average all across the board was a strength in itself.

This was going to be an allrounder mech. Which meant you could basically place it in any sort of team and it would add value. Alone, together, with other types and with itself. The backup shotgun on the no-wing side also helped round it all out. This mech would have an answer for anything a person could throw at it.

Of course the mix of projectile and laser rifle demanded some very careful work to be done on the arms. This was actually very tricky. Lasers needed careful precision. Ballistics typically had to deal with the recoil. Their needs had just enough overlap to make it possible rather than impossible. It just required that Bolt sacrifice some accuracy at longer ranges, which was acceptable. Riflemen like this tended to be more workhorse medium range fighters than anything else.

The hands at least didn't need much work. Just a precise trigger finger, a good grip on the trigger hand, and a firm grip on the off hand. Nothing like a melee mech. You could add more, but that added complexity and difficulty in manufacturing. One big thing about design was deciding where you could keep things simple and generic and where you couldn't.

Now all of this taken together made the mech in question average across the board. No part of it stood out statistically aside from the wing. That gave it more durability than your standard rifleman. It wasn't a killer feature though. Bolt could already tell it the mech would be considered a bit of a novelty rather than anything else. A bit too expensive for people who just wanted a rifleman and too generalist for more niche lines. You couldn't even use them as padding since the expense was just a bit higher than a standard rifleman. That wing was costly and he wasn't sure if the added value was worth it.

Bolt was nominally ok with that. He didn't want to release a failure of a mech, but this was supposed to be an internal workhorse. He also wanted to do something special with the spiritual side. That part wasn't visible and wouldn't show up on the specifications.

Before all of that the mech needed a name and a theme. This was the Wounded Angel. The base design brought to mind the older veterans and how they felt more than how they looked. This mech felt like one that had fought so long the battlefield was a second home. In light of that Bolt gave it a few cosmetic colorations that made it look scarred and adjusted the frame here and there to make it look like a grizzled old war veteran of a mech.

Then he made a little figure of it and sort of linked it spiritually with the blueprint. Bolt's examination of Ves' work had given him a lot of things to think about. This was the result of some of that thinking. The other designer had made a sort of central node, the spirit, for most of his mechs. This enforced the spiritual power once the 'scaffolding' was made so to speak. The Wounded Angel was going to have something similar using this.

To use an analogy, Ves made a central server and updated his mechs with it. Bolt was going to make a master copy and have his mechs copied from that. There were pluses and minuses to each approach. It fit Bolt's style better because he was all about refining things in a cycle. The Heart System allowed a mech to improve itself over time. This new mech would be the first one to really lean on that system if he did it right.

It wasn't finished naturally. Bolt strode out of his office and down to the more general areas. The 'local bar' so to speak was a bit more centrally located. It was technically just a mess hall with alcohol, but was really just the local bar.

In there were a few old vets drinking and talking shit with one another. They barely looked up as Bolt entered the room, and only paid him any attention when he set the figure down on their table. They looked at it and then at him. Eventually one of them spoke.

"Gussin' that's a new mech?" He asked. "Ain't sure why yer bothering us with the little toy."

"It's going to be a rifleman." Bolt gestured to the rifle it was handling. "Ya'll remember that ghost shit at Cold Grave?"

"Wasn't there, but everyone's talking about it. Bit funny that we were all told that it was specifically alien stuff that you countered with psi-on-ics." The man drawled out and gave the young designer a look. "Ain't gonna dispute that, but still funny."

"The MTA has opinions." Bolt said simply. "But this is sort of more psionics. Mind grabbing this and focusing on a few battles?" He wiggled the figure on the table with one hand. "I'm doing something special with it. Will foot the bill fer a few drinks so indulge me."

Bolt was quite aware that if he hadn't been practically holding up the mountain on his shoulders the old vets wouldn't have bothered, or they would have just humored him and not actually done it. Instead one by one they grabbed the figure and focused. To help them focus they started talking about it, and then, since the drinks continued to flow they continued talking. More than a few of the stories were ones Bolt hadn't heard before. These were old veterans, some of them had been actual military before being stranded on the planet. They had so many stories.

The day passed and the night came, and more veterans came by and got in on the free drinks in exchange for stories. The designer was more than fine with it. He could almost see the figure absorbing the atmosphere, the memories. It was exactly what he wanted. It was exactly what he needed for this to work right.

He left once everything started to wind down, little figure in hand. He had what he needed and he needed to do the last step. That required one Crystal Heart and some focus. He mirrored the two to one another and then slotted the Heart into a reader with crossed fingers. He was almost sure he did everything right, but as another designer had said, the proof was in activation.

Slowly the designer began to grin as lines started to scroll down his screen. There, in front of him, was the data that a spiritual mech would have if made. As if the mech had been built already. He'd taken another step forward. He had figured out a way to create a master copy. Now all that remained to be seen was if that copy could be used.
 
It's going to be a seriously weird mech, for green pilots. Should learn fast, I'd say.
So many comments about "the damn Mech's grumbling over my shoulder about what I'm doing and nudging me so I do it right, it's like my bloody uncle's with me in the Mech!"
 
So many comments about "the damn Mech's grumbling over my shoulder about what I'm doing and nudging me so I do it right, it's like my bloody uncle's with me in the Mech!"
Newbies are going to feel like they're being scolded by a grumpy grandfather over every little thing they do, be it walking through terrain ("Mechs are made ta walk on their feet, not their damn toes. Stand up straight!"), shooting ("Good, good, good, now stop there so- Oh there you go you screwed it up again."), or just standing around ("It's called sentry duty, not naptime! You ain't got the skill to daydream, so how about you keep doing your job till you do.").

And then on the other hand, all the vets are going to feel far too smug and vindicated when in theirs, as they'll have someone in their cockpit constantly mocking the basic errors that both their opponents and their allies make ("Stupid kid's gonna get his head rattled if he keeps swinging like that. Aaaaaand yep there he goes. Yeah, I know. What? Oh damn you're right, they're both morons! Heh. Come on then, let's save their sorry hides...").
 
I016 New
"Another wunder-kid design?" One of the techs asked as the blueprint came down.

Crane gave a grunt and then a stern glance at the tech. "You got a problem with that?" He asked quietly.

"Depends, we gotta think special again?" The man replied with a cheeky grin. "Rainbows and unicorns this time?"

The foreman gave another grunt as he looked over the instructions. "Nope. Just gotta get yer head in the game this time. This is another experiment."

He didn't complaints from that, but the man probably wanted to based on the face he made. Crane could sympathize some. Your typical assembly was already pretty stressful and required a lot of focus if you wanted to get the job done fast without injury. Changing up something every time was mentally painful, if not physically dangerous. Yet at the same time Crane understood why the golden child was changing things. He was visibly feeling things out and trying to improve every single thing. Crane was willing to cut him some slack, especially because the kid was practically begging for input and feedback after every build. The whole 'psionic' thing had a lot of potential, but it was obviously very finicky too. (Crane actually kind of liked that. It felt like job security.)

This one was another one where the kid was deliberately keeping away from assembly. The instructions were pretty simple too. Just create the mech as normal but install the Heart System with a pre-programmed crystal early. That alone gave people a bit of motivation. No fancy focuses or thinking. Just the job.

"Get the music going!" Someone called out and things began.

A jaunty tune began to play on low volume as people began to move. Creating a mech as a team was far different than doing so as a singular person. This was doubly true for a production line. Every second the printer was not running was wasted money. Every minute a tool was not being used was again wasted money.

This was a first run of a mech though, so that was waved a bit. Instead they documented things and moved at almost half speed, looking for stop points that would make a production run stall. Skeleton wasn't special, so that went up first. Five people hauled up the plates and affixed the joints while the rest did the other production. Next was wiring, and the Heart System early.

"Huh." One of their code readers made a noise as he looked over the input from the cockpit area. "Already has some juice!" He called out and blinked as a number shifted. "Hah, that changed it too!"

"We already knew that numbskull!" Someone called out. "Line it to a terminal and get outta the way!"

"Screw you!" The tech made a rude gesture as he moved off with a small cable in hand.

"Damned wings are still a pain in the ass!" Someone else called out.

"Better than our Pima Dona!"

"Lovely girl, never doubt that, but the wings make me cry every time they come back broken."

"These will still make you cry like a baby, but that's cause you're a whimp!"

"Bastard!" Laughter followed.

A few minutes later, the wing was wheeled in fully assembled by a few people and hoisted up. Things were noted and the part was inspected. A few laser pointers were used to double check that certain relay points worked, and then they routed some power. It flexed and they checked it again.

"They're easier to make, but yeah, ain't gonna be a quick thing to remake." The tech that made them said with a shake of his head. "Think it's worth the cover?"

"Ratings say maybe. Need input from the pilot." One of the men who checked numbers said. "Wonderboy didn't use special armor for this, so it's not really a defense monster."

"Eh, not all of em have ta be snowflakes, and armor specials are usually hell. Least you can pre-make the wing."

"Chatter people!" Crane called out and several people jumped. He strode over to the tech watching the code. "Finding something?"

"You can actually see when someone's got something going on in their head." The tech pointed to a few numbers. "See that?"

"I see data." The elder man replied.

"We got a cascading change when the wing got attached and another one when one of the techs put in the wires. It's not even close to what we have as the master blueprint though." The man brought up another screen.

Crane couldn't make heads or tails of it, but that was why the man was their code reader and not him. Instead he turned his attention to the others. They already had a list. The physical blueprints had notations here and there where things could use some work, and what would need to be sent back to Bolt. Credit to the young man, the latter was pretty small. He was getting better all the time. The first Ghoul production run had required they scrap the first ones off the line and redo half the documentation for fabrication. (Bolt's construction methods were more than a little insane to follow if you weren't practically elite.)

"Muscles are on. Head, fingers, and toes wiggle!" Came the call.

"Armor next. Anchor points ready?" Slabs of armor were rolled up.

"Someone change the song, it's driving me mad!"

"We're not doing rock this you philistene!"

"Quite using words you don't mean you neanderthal!"

The armor plates were hoisted up and then placed into loading arms. Automated power tools began the process of welding and bolting it into place. Unprompted the techs began to do the cleanup necessary for the bay to be reused. Crane watched it with a critical eye and turned back to the guy monitoring the code.

"No good." The tech muttered. "Comparison says fifty percent. I think the special sauce is at a good level, but it's all jumbled."

"It's not finished yet." The foreman pointed out but felt a small sinking feeling.

Not finished yet didn't mean there was a lot left to do. Right now it looked like a failure, which likely meant more experiments to try to get things right and that they'd need to scrap this run. That was always painful.

The code reader looked back at him and didn't say anything, but he was obviously feeling the same way. Cable gave a snort and looked away. He'd read what that Ves Larkinson had required from his techs. It had been almost like a cult, and he'd wanted nothing to do with it. Yet it had resulted in mechs that performed beyond their technical specs. Bolt was chasing that, and the foreman was unsure how he could both help and keep his workers sane.

"Last bit!" Someone called out.

"Boss man, getting the paint and powder ready." One of the line leads said as he moved up and then frowned at the face. "Ya look like we missed a weld."

"That whole psionics thing is coming up again. Gotta get things aligned mentally." Crane muttered. "Was hoping that our kid figured out something with that Heart, but it doesn't look it." He sighed. "Only thing we can do is finish it."

The line lead gave him a look before shrugging. "Can't say I know the fancy stuff, but I don't see why we can't just do some o' that aligning stuff now. Hey pick out a new song! We need one that fits the mech for the last bit!" He called out.

The nearest tech made a rude gesture but turned to the controls and began to fiddle with them. The serious face he made was actually a little comical, but he did seem to be trying his best. A few songs started up and got booed or catcalled as people gave their input. Then they hit an older and almost melancholy one about war.

It got a few laughs, but everyone agreed it fit the new mech. On the lineman's urging they all got up and did a bit of the paint with a paint gun instead of leaving it to the automated systems. They even added a painted scar to one of the eyes.

Something seemed to click then. It wasn't something visible. It was just a click. There was not another word to describe it. There was just a moment where it was a mech and then it wasn't just a mech. It was a mech and something else. Everyone felt it.

"Oh, that did it!" The code-tech's cheerful words broke the spell.

Crane cleared his throat. "Activation checks people! We ain't finished yet!" He ordered.

With a jump everyone stared to do that. The mech wasn't perfect. He was flawed like all first production mechs were. They had to refine the process. Yet they felt like they had the hints of a proper system for the future. This was something they easily train people with. Crane could pick up a young wanna-be and turn him into someone that could do something similar quickly and easily. It was a process that wasn't cult indoctrination.

It wasn't completely automated mass production. It felt better. More human. And something that was definitely a Wrench Rat special.
 
On an unrelated note, does Bolt still have 'refine the accidentally-experted nanite system' on his docket? I reckon he could revisit the vampire idea, but instead of flying knives thing do a fast swordsman that deploys deconstructor and harvester nanites through the blade. Fancy midnight aristocrat type with a blood-drinking sword. Deconstructors would suck up energy and mindlessly render whatever they touch into powdered base materials till they run out of juice, so they could be used mid-fight as a mech poison of sorts. Then once there's an opportunity, harvesters would grab the powders and feed them into a full body circulatory system that'd give the mech healing factor like Dowry ended up with.

Between that an a laser rifleman or artillery Lich (once the next tech update is out) it'd keep the undead series going.
 
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A few songs started up and got booed or catcalled as people gave their input. Then they hit an older and almost melancholy one about war.

It got a few laughs, but everyone agreed it fit the new mech. On the lineman's urging they all got up and did a bit of the paint with a paint gun instead of leaving it to the automated systems. They even added a painted scar to one of the eyes.

Something seemed to click then.
It's going to turn out that there are 3 major requirements to get this mech to work.

1. A bunch of gruff manly men being men must be part of the construction process.

2. It needs to have visible scars that look cool, mainly the one across its eye. Different kinds of scar designs help improve group cohesion with multiple Angels over a group with just a single design.

3. Old war music must be played, the more either melancholic or patriotic it is the better.
 

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