What's Junk? (The Mech Touch)

[lost star]

Green Barrier was not green. That was the first observation Bolt found. The second observation was that it had a surprising amount of traffic around orbit. The reasoning took a few minutes to find, but it was mostly because they were in the tail end of 'harvesting.' The planet itself was a mix of grey and brown as in the aftermath of all the fighting. Significant portions of it looked to have been razed and burned in some fashion and the most predominant color was due to that tainting the air.

"Bolt and Lilly Silica?" A man met them as they landed on a small landing pad.

"That'd be us." Lilly waved.

"It iz a pleasure to meet you. Forgive the lack of ceremony, but all other officials are quite busy." The man continued with a bow. "Please inform me of any needs you might have and about any requests you desire to make! I will see about fulfilling them to the best of my ability."

"Not like we need that much. I'm just interested in the mechs." Bolt said as he glanced around the surprisingly barren facilities.

"Oui, that is most definitely worthwhile. I can most certainly get you into contact with a few experts. This is a good time for that. With the major battles winding down some will be glad to talk shop. Does the Madame desire anything?" The man asked with a nod.

"I kinda wanna see how ya'll fight. Also, it reminds me a bit 'o home." Lilly took a deep breath. "Same scent of smoke, but with sap too."

"Reminds you of home?" The greeter stared at Lilly a moment. "Madame, this was an active warzone, and we still have small skirmishes with lingering remnants."

"That's home." Bolt confirmed with a nod. "More plants here, but the atmosphere is almost identical."

His statement seemed to make the man stop even trying to make sense of things. Instead he handed Bolt and Lilly a few contact addresses and made his way out with a slightly disturbed expression. Bolt couldn't say he blamed him. Rather than deal with that he stepped off the landing pad and looked out on the city, the only city on the planet.

The barrier planets weren't really places people settled on really. They were truthfully more military installations than tourist destinations, but due to several reasons they each had a city on them to help support the 'war.' This meant a lot of things, but for Bolt and Lilly it meant they could visit for their own entertainment. It wasn't unknown to happen and they did have procedures for it.

As a result of the near constant need for defense, the planet's city was a large and sprawling mess of metal and high-rises surrounded by walls. There was absolutely no dirt or plants at all in sight, and there were actual restrictions on open piles of dirt. This had caused the natives to use other methods to decorate the city and break up the brutal building profiles. Every building had something painted on it. Every corner had banners, lights, and various other decorations. There were elevators and other vehicles everywhere to make it easier to get up and down, and it all collided together to make navigating a dizzying affair. It almost drowned out the immense walls on the horizon and the faint hint of smoke.

Despite this the locals didn't act like they were just recently off a conflict. There was some standard foot traffic, advertisements, and even a few open air restaurants. There was no hint of stress or quick movements. People just went about their lives as normal.

"Was wondering if they'd be like us, but no. This feels more..." Lilly trailed off and held her husbands arm as they walked along the street.

"It feels like they haven't seen war at all." Bolt finished and looked around. "Or more like they're deliberately ignoring it."

You had to look for the hints of battle. A few scars. Some people had hints of pain. The occasional grieving single parent. There were very few of them though. It was perhaps a testimony about the routine nature of things.

"Why is there so much green?" Lilly asked quietly.

"Hmm?" Bolt responded.

"Green skin, green hair, some with red and green, but a lot of green on some people." Lilly pointed out.

That did seem unusual. Bolt wondered about it. Green didn't seem like a good fashion color when you were fighting against a species that used a lot of that color. It felt oddly subversive.

"Oh, they're teenagers." The designer realized.

Lilly stifled a laugh. "Oh, teenage rebellion by doing something with green." She barely kept herself quiet as they made their way into the hotel, but not quiet enough however.

"It's not rebellion!" A teenager who'd heard her shot back with a trace of shot back anger and a shaking fist before he approached. "It's stupid parents!"

"Excuse me?" Bolt asked as he turned to the person.

It was extremely hard to tell if it was a man or woman. The body shape was androgynous and lacked all secondary sex characteristics. The only thing that hinted at his sex was his voice. Everything else was just indeterminate. Frankly it gave him a mildly alien appearance that was more disturbing than anything else.

"Ze parents decided to do this to us." He said and crossed his arms, with several other teenagers nodding along as they joined him. "Tis a stupid fashion that happened when I was born. " He grabbed at his shoulder length green hair and pulled with frustration. "Oh I have a lovely mane, and green skin. I'm strong, but I barely look like a man! I should have hair on my chin!"

"I should have tits!" A girl, presumably, shouted out.

Now that Bolt was looking more than a few of the crowd had that sort of look. "Your parents altered your genetics like that?"

"Yes." The young man growled out. "So itz not rebellion. It's us living with their stupidity!" He got several nods.

Despite the rage, the small group of teenagers weren't actually acting that offensively, surprisingly. There wasn't that sense of aggression that made Bolt feel like he was in danger. It was more that they were generally offended at the world rather than anything else.

"Oh, that..." Lilly trailed off with a wince as she held her stomach and seemed to be contemplating something.

"We didn't do that Lilly." Bolt reassured his wife. "Remember."

"I know, it's just I don't know why a parent would do that?" The expert asked out loud with a profoundly disturbed expression.

"My parents were trend chasers and vapid pricks." The leader of the group said with a huff that was probably universal in teenagers. "You did some engineering for your child?"

"Had to, otherwise I couldn't have him." Lilly confirmed with a nod. "We didn't determine anything but male and no genetic issues."

"That iz acceptable." The teen flipped his green hair and nodded at them both. "You are good people. Forgive the rage Madam, you did not deserve it."

"Now I'm reminded that I'll need that if I want kids." One of the girls in the background said almost quietly enough for Bolt to miss it.

"That is even if we can afford and tolerate it. Remember what the doctor said? Hormonal treatment will be just the first step and it'll be uncomfortable."

"Let's not talk here. Is there a cafe nearby we can talk?" Bolt asked as the anger started to fade.

With a bit of suspicion the young man nodded, and then they moved to a small place on a corner that seemed to be a local hangout. The food was cheap, the drinks a cheap tea, and all of it was poor quality for Second Rate. It was still better than Bolt's usual, and actually more to his taste than the more expensive stuff he'd had.

The gist of it came out over a few minutes as they talked. The young man, Philippe, had been genetically engineered at birth with some alien DNA, along with several others. The reasoning behind it had officially been to gain an advantage against the Arboretians. The entire suite of changes the man and his fellows had gone through were extensive.

Something about that felt like a lie, though Bolt didn't say it out loud. The teenagers already felt trapped and angry at everything. Adding more to that would cause further trouble. They had few job prospects, and about half the city found the modifications both absurd and stupid.

"We can't even leave the planet for something better." Philippe noted bitterly. "Ze entire nation hates the Arboretians, and having these mods means no one would even think about giving us a chance."

"Without money we have to depend on our parents, and according to them getting treated is expensive." One of the others said. "I hear about first crushes and romance, and I feel nothing. I should be thinking about sex. I can't." And wasn't that mildly horrifying to hear.

Lilly winced before she brightened as something occurred to her. "Why don't you just move a sector over?"

"Huh?" Philippe asked in confusion.

"The Friday Coalition doesn't really care about this area. They're also in the middle of a war. Travel through the sector divide and you could probably get a job in something physical." Bolt explained before wincing slightly. "Though I can't guarantee it'll be good at first."

The teenager stared at him a moment before sighing. "I cannot believe we did not think of that."

"Oui!" Several others said before laughing.

"I'll forward you some information on travel and the forms. Getting a transport on your own shouldn't be out of your budget if you pool money and are careful." Bolt offered.

Sometimes you just needed a solution to make things better. The thought of a plan forward gave the young men and women more motivation than anything else. They parted on pretty good terms.

 

[lost star]

When one heard that they made mechs out of wood, the mind went in strange places. It pictured big brown mechs that looked like trees. Perhaps with leaves on them. This was fairly far from the truth on this planet. It was probably far from the truth in general.

The core thing that stopped that fantasy was the fact that the wood used here looked nothing like wood most people were familiar with. The base and untreated material was an off-silver color with a rainbow hue that changed based off what sort of contaminates were in it. The core material was called Root-Steel Trees and was only really available when the war heated up.

Explaining this required some history. The Arboretians FTL was very slow but very subtle. It allowed them to land on the planet in small seed-like forms and grow mostly hidden. Their natural body was that of a green tree-like structure that grew out of the earth that grew to that size over the course of about a year or two. Ranging from the size of the average man or smaller, these small green shoots weren't particularly threatening or dangerous on the face of things. A man with an axe could kill one of these aliens with a few chops. This assumed that the alien had none of their defenses up.

Arboretians always had defenses. Most of them were instinctual. Their favorite used Root-Steels. The aliens would accelerate the growth of these trees and then harvest the plant with their own unique abilities to create new bodies. The resultant bodies were typically about the size of mechs and could be further customized to the alien's liking. It was the equivalent of walking to the aliens. So much so that it was their default action soo after birth. Seeing an Arboretian naked was therefore a very unusual occurrence. Most people just saw their pseudo-mechs.

It has to be said that Root-Steel Trees were rather interesting and relatively harmless alone. Without outside encouragement they simply a plant that grew off of metal. All forms of metal. They particularly liked exotic forms of metal that most mechs had some of. In their natural state they had a growth measured in centuries and in optimal situations were only useful after about a hundred years worth of growth. They were relatively harmless to mechs as well, because a standard maintenance cycle would remove their seeds with a simple power wash and it took years before they could root into a metal object to grow.

One didn't need to be smart to see where the problems actually lay. The aliens could accelerate plant growth substantially through some native ability. Their first few battles with humanity had therefore been them simply eating the mechs and growing more mechs for themselves! The aliens could even learn from the mechs. Each victory would substantially improve their forces through new materials and new technologies.

This was less of a problem now that humanity had adapted. Mechs used a combination of refined Root-Steel wood, sealant, and bio-mech construction to create things devoid of metal that the trees could eat. This substantially cut down down what the aliens could do against humanity. It was ultimately what had turned a long and bitter war into simple containment.

Of course this was simplifying the history and discoveries involved significantly. Wood had a lot of properties that made it extremely unsuited for mechs. You had to be very careful when using in construction. Bio-mechs, as in mechs made with organic components, required some alternative construction processes that had been further adjusted for the local sector planets. It was all custom built, and apparently shared throughout all the nation to keep things up to date.

It was all also very messy.

"I'm glad it's sap." Bolt muttered as he observed the process of a mech being constructed.

"Flesh and bone mechs are quite the sight to see, you do need ze strong stomach though." One of the techs commented.

He could see why. This was already a bit disturbing. The mech wasn't being made so much as it was being grown. Inside a pod-like structure Bolt could see a skeleton being made. The materials were being fed into the thing through root-like structures around the creation. It brought to mind a monster being born more than a mech being constructed. The scent of sap was heavy in the air, a sort of vague sweetness that wasn't unpleasant, but also wasn't oil either.

"This is an interesting example second rate construction." Bolt observed out loud.

Pure automation. Though monitored automation in this case. Mechs built like this didn't get made by hand. They didn't get repaired. They got grown and healed. There were significant plusses and minuses to it. Bolt wasn't sure if he liked the entire process really. In fact he low-key hated it. Several parts of him rebelled at watching this and knowing it existed.

It wasn't that creating a mech like this required no skill. It did most certainly. The mech itself was being monitored by a good half dozen techs right now. Ultimately Bolt felt like it lacked a certain hands-on approach that he preferred. He also liked the metal, oil, and other materials more.

"If you like we can show you the finished product." The tech offered.

"I would, but I'm wondering about something. These mechs are made from salvaged Steel-Root? How does that work with this setup?" Bolt gestured to the massive pod and the lack of ability to actually physically touch the mech.

"You have to soak it in a special solution, blend it, and then channel it through the roots. It's mostly proprietary, so I can't give you more details." The tech explained with a hint of apology.

Bolt nodded that made a lot of sense. It was a small pity, but he could deal with it. "I get it. I'll take you up on the viewing the finished mechs."

The primary mech used in battle on the planet was known as the Lumberjack. It was honestly not particularly imaginative. It was a mech with a two handed axe and a pair of projectile weapons that were smaller cannon cousins. The lack of variety might have been a problem elsewhere, here it was actually a bonus. The enemy had favored and consistent tactics. The response was to use a workhorse mech that could be mass produced and consistently supplied as a general purpose mech. The process for creating Lumberjacks had been strenuously streamlined and optimized for its purpose. The design itself was a workhorse mech that functioned as the major footman on the frontline.

Bolt had a sneaking suspicion that someone had been playing a small joke with the design honestly. The mech looked like an old-earth lumberjack. The top was red and black and the bottom was just black. The armor gave the impression of heft as well.

If had hadn't known any better he would have said it was just another mech. There wasn't much of a hint that it was a plant-based mech from the distance. Up close it was fairly apparent to his trained eye, but it still was pretty mech-like. This made sense. It was still a mech, and shared at least some of the tech base. Armor and limb shaping was pretty applicable to both styles of mech.

Shame he couldn't take it apart though. Biomechs like this were all connected organically. Again, it came with pluses and minuses. It made it less fun to examine the mech, but Bolt still did it.

The spiritual aspect was rather strange once he got into things. It was mech-like, but tinted just a bit with the scent of plants. It wasn't contamination so much as a sort of blend. This was a plant shaped into a mech, and he could feel it in his spiritual sense. It was an unusual discovery.

Examining the Lumberjack was interesting enough that Bolt decided to check out the more experimental mechs to compare them. These were the mechs new designers worked on, and had less streamlined designs. They weren't large in number, but they were other examples of biomechs.

One in particular held hints of someone familiar. Jeanne's work, but only in that someone had obviously been inspired some by here. If Bolt had to guess, it took some of the materials she'd explored as a master, but he couldn't be certain without speaking with the person who'd designed the mech.

The mech was known as Pyro-Mania. It was very technically a striker. It's primary weapon was a large sprayer that needed to be held with two hands. The technical part came with the fact that Pyro-Mania was meant to just put out flames in an area. It wasn't designed for mech combat. It was designed to protect the pilot while it burned everything around it. The thing's endurance was frankly insane, and almost half of its makeup was meant to keep alive when the everything was burning. It was an extremely specialized mech that was focused to one purpose above all else. This was fairly contrary to standard Second Rate design, but it made sense in this aspect.

It's appearance left a lot to be desired admittedly. It was a black thing with a large tank on its back. The adornment was minimal. The design was basic. Yet Bolt had to give the designer credit. This mech could create an inferno that would likely melt other mechs and walk through it with minimal damage. The armor and internals were specifically designed to handle far higher heat than most other mechs.

Bolt had to examine the thing for awhile before he figured out that half of the way the mech managed to do this was because it was a biomech. It was really quite amusing to realize that a plant mech was one of the best heat tolerant mechs he'd ever seen. If he ever met the designer he'd offer a hearty congratulation. The mech itself wasn't special, but the extremes it could handle was genuinely impressive.

 

[lost star]

Lilly hadn't expected much from the pilots and the mechs. Visiting them and the planet was more because they were the nearest biomech users rather than for anything else. The mechs were interesting as a different variable to evaluate rather than interesting in their own right. Staving off boredom was going to be a constant thing as her pregnancy progressed.

That mindset had turned out to be a good thing. Once she'd gotten into the arena and watched a few fights, she found herself close to being bored. They were were all using the same mech! That could be interesting in that the tactical concerns were different for mirror matches, but here it wasn't. Everyone was just using axe moves taught from the same source.

She supposed that made sort of sense. These were army boys fighting an enemy that had a limited set of tactics. Their entire purpose was to absorb damage and then cut down the enemy. Others would have more thought. The men in front of her were Lumberjacks through and through essentially. It was interesting picking apart their styles for about a minute or two before she'd basically gotten it all.

Boredom was only being held off by the fact that the mechs themselves were different. Biomechs were just subtly different than normal mechs in general performance. They moved more like animals than mechanical machines. It wasn't immediately apparent, but the way their joints moved and how their legs shifted just felt subtly off. In the language of mechs, these ones had an accent. It something good to confirm and justified the trip in her eyes.

The way they got damaged was quite different too. Biomechs were all one part and used organic processes to work, so damage became disturbingly close to damage people took when they got hurt. The only saving grace was that the 'blood' was distinctly not blood. A good blow caused sap to leak everywhere, and it was mostly a slightly cloudy liquid with a hint of sweetness to the scent. Put together it made the experience novel enough that Lilly was able to entertain herself for a few hours before the end of the day. She and her husband moved to a hotel room they rented and made plans for tomorrow with relatively good spirits on her end.

For the next outing she was joined by Bolt, who looked faintly disgruntled. Her darling husband had found mechs he didn't like and was still off balance. This was actually more entertaining than anything else on the trip to Lilly.

"Ya'll aren't liking it?" She asked with a faint grin at his expression.

"It's not my thing." Bolt muttered. "I did some research last night and while I can follow it, I don't want to." He huffed. "Annoying."

"Not everyone can like everything." Lilly pointed out.

"Forgive the intrusion madam." A man said as he approached them. "I will be your chauffeur today. You desired to see some of the aliens?"

"Nothing dangerous, but yes." Bolt confirmed.

Lilly sighed internally. She had a lot more sympathy for women who complained about having children now. Carrying the extra weight wasn't a problem. She was fit enough that it didn't matter, even with her slight frame. The lack of ability to do her favorite activities was the real issue. She wouldn't trade the feeling of a child for anything in the world, but she wouldn't lie and say she ached to do more.

Fortunately the tour was distracting enough. The locals made a habit of preserving a few aliens after killing them every time it happened. More to check to see if things changed and provide education than cruelty. Every generation needed to know their enemy according to the leaders, and they'd refined the process to a point were it was safe, mostly free of gore, and educational.

The bodies weren't much to look at even with all of that. Biology wise they were sort of like a cross between grass and bamboo with added parts to allow for intelligence. Appearance wise they were like big green leaves with most of their real body in the roots. They did have distinct organs, but neither Lilly nor Bolt wanted to get deep into the subject for several reasons. The aliens bodies weren't really interesting to the couple. The big thing was their vehicles.

"This is what we call a Three Year Growth." The tour guide explained as they approached a massive beast made of wood.

It was almost a mech. Lilly didn't get what Bolt was likely learning by checking it out, but she could evaluate designs some herself. Armor wise it felt like a heavy equivalent with serious flaws. Made of massive pure white wood, it felt slow and cumbersome. The thing didn't have hands, it had round club-like limbs instead. The feet were more like solid blocks. Nothing about it felt nimble. The threat was all in the mass.

"Three Year growth means how long it was active?" Lilly guessed.

"That's close to right. It's how many years they've been ambulatory. One years are slim things. Three years get to this size." The guide explained. "We kept this one because as you can see the core was pierced in a singular blow. It's pristine otherwise."

"Central torso." Bolt noted the hole and where it was positioned. "That's where it was being controlled?"

"Oui, most of the villains have no concept of actual design. It takes roughly ten to twenty years before a thought gets into their head. Before then they will typically rampage and eat like overgrown toddlers while using very simple configurations with obvious weak points." The man spat to the side as he explained. "They are still dangerous mind you. It's just the pattern they follow while developing. We find them quick and cull them quicker and that is the reason this place is safe enough for tourists."

"Ah..." Lilly winced slightly as she realized the age was quite literal here.

"Do not feel sorry for them. We are killing their children yes, but they are violent and unthinking brutes that their parents throw at us like weapons." The guide hastened to assure Lilly. "Zhey are aliens, and do not think like we do. We are unsure of how social they are truthfully. There are no records of coordination in their young and they will predate others as targets of opportunity if they can." The man turned to look at the massive wooden almost-mech. "This one in particular likely ate at least three or four based on the growth and other factors."

"Really?" Bolt asked with more curiosity than Lilly felt. "How does that lifestyle make sense?"

"Our guesses are that they are like trees and throw out seeds in the millions after a breeding season. They assign no values to their youths." The native explained with a shrug. "We know they grow more potent and more social with age, but there appears to be a limit. There are regular scouting attempts, and we have something resembling a baseline of development. It iz not pretty." He paused and turned to a nearby terminal. "I can show you if you like sir and madam."

"Could I see how something like this fights first?" Lilly asked first.

"Of course!"

There were a lot of videos that they could go through. Lilly got the toddler comparison almost immediately. Most of the young first year growths were about as good as someone just starting to pilot a mech. They improved terrifyingly quickly though. Second Year Growths were able to move like veterans, endure a staggering amount of damage, and club your standard mech to death if they weren't careful. Third Year Growths needed teams or lucky blows to deal with safety. The mechs were slow but they could utterly pulverize anything they could hit. It was like seeing a child learning what worked best, as sickening as the scenario sounded.

"We keep an eye out and try to kill them at Three. Four and up is where they start to explore options and become a trial to fight." The guide tapped out.

Lilly got why right off the bat. There were weapons now. Strange weapons, but weapons. Some of them looked quite nasty.

"Acid?" Bolt asked.

"Sometimes. It depends on how creative the menaces are. We have seen a few do firearm equivalents too. Usually after a victory or two. We have refined the hunting, but we typically fight at least one who's learned every year."

A few weapon types flicked through the screens. Most of them were the equivalent of throwing rocks or acid. The biggest thing was most of them lacked range. Lilly did like the one that threw spikes though. That one was entertaining.

"Oh, that's actually kind of neat." The expert voiced her observation.

"Ah yes, that design comes up with the clever ones. The penetration and fire rate is lacking when they first think of it typically." The guide explained. "Here is a Ten Year growth, from before we understood the best ways to control them."

The video was older. It was also like the recorder was in a misty environment. For a few seconds Lilly thought that was because the lens was covered in something, but a few of the of the sensor reports indicated that it was mostly spores from local plants. The air was so toxic that even a shielded human would die in minutes.

It wasn't the only difference. The alien was using cover and moving with intent and clear skill. It was slimmer than the Three Year design, more refined and functional. The hands were more like mittens, but still hands. The feet looked like feet, and on video the alien could move terrifyingly fast. The shots it was taking were also barely damaging the armor it was wearing.

"It's like an expert." Lilly concluded with a breath.

"Not quite, but the comparison haz been made before. Past ten ze foul things usually level out in combat ability, but some can rival experts, and it only gets worse as they age."

"Seems odd that this is available to the public." Bolt said curiously.

The guide gave a small and tired smile. "Hiding it, or downplaying the threat would simply have people underestimate things. The MTA and CFA have the enemy contained. They have not won. Our post requires care and eternal vigilance." He flicked. "Here is an elder from surveillance."

The video showed a dot on the screen. The camera began to magnify several times. At one thousand magnification the thing came into view. Size wise it was twice the size of a mech according to the readings. The massive thing floated in space almost serenely.

It looked almost like a person. With long tendril like green hair, a shapeless mask, and a smooth body suit. If it wasn't so large it could have passed as a person sunning themselves in the void of space.

Then it seemed to notice the camera. It turned and there was a single frame of glowing green eyes. The thing blurred with white light, and then there was a proximity alarm. The feed cut off then.

"That waz a spy satellite. The people who brought it there died shortly thereafter. As you can see, the old ones can use their FTL in a combat sense." The man said.

"That is terrifying. I'm assuming it's limited?" Bolt asked with fascination.

"It's slow for FTL. Aces can block it. It is also rather telegraphed." The guide said.

"I could see that." Lilly noted. "It must make elders a pain to fight."

"It's one of many factors." The man agreed.

Lilly chuckled as Bolt started to dig into the FTL mechanics. She didn't see him getting lost in it in a way that indicated inspiration, but it was an interesting topic. She was more interested in the combat recordings. Some of them were very interesting. The Aliens fought really weird.

It ended up being a good day.

 

[lost star]

Growing up on Green Barrier 12 was not the worst thing in the world. That was reserved for hellholes worse than Bolt's home. Places where slavery wasn't outlawed, and the technology had devolved into sticks and stones. Green Barrier was a Second Rate planet on a vital area. It was what was commonly called a fortress world. Fortress worlds were places of high investment and were typically highly controlled as well. The degree of control differed, but crime, poverty, and other factors were usually pretty non-existant.

Philippe Du Toit was not deprived. As a scion of one of the higher ranking officials, he was actually fairly rich by local standards. His allowance was enough to buy several buildings if he were so inclined. His rage and rebellion came from two things. His unwanted heritage, and the fact that his parents were neglectful at best.

His parents were political animals. Their marriage was a sham of pretense and lies. Their only thought was how high they could climb. Philippe was pretty sure the only reason they'd had him was because it was better to have a child in this area than not. It showed commitment and the desire to settle down.

In retrospect the young man's life might not have been bad, but his parents most certainly were. He was introspective enough to acknowledge that now. It was surprising how much one conversation could change your perspective. He'd seen the love and care Bolt and Lilly had with just a simple talk. This stilted and cold dinner was nothing like that.

"How was your day?" His father's question was cold and completely uninterested.

"Perfectly fine." Phillipe answered back with his standard answer. "Good grades in school, and graduating shortly."

It was a lie. He didn't attend school anymore. He hadn't for a year. He'd hacked the nanny monitors long ago, and frankly he didn't need any of the information that their approved schooling gave him. Him and his friends had long since handled their own education. The mods that had been forced on them were good for that at least. His intellect was in the upper percentile naturally and self study was faster and less boring than trying to follow the propaganda they called lessons here.

"Good." The man said simply.

"We're going to request you stay at home tonight." His mother added in with completely fake warmth. "There's a few things that are happening."

"A few things?" Phillipe asked with mild confusion at the fake concern. "But I was going to go out to the cafe again. They were running a special on magnifique candies and sweets." This was true, and he was actually looking forward to it. His body composition craved sugar like nothing else.

His parents exchanged glances. "Your friends will likely be staying at home as well and you should be avoiding overindulging sweets like that." His father said slowly as if he was unused to trying to reason with his son.

Phillipe frowned. "You don't know my friends though?"

"We do keep track of your contacts dear." His mother said with a half smile. "We approved of them long ago. You are best served to stick with those that will be..." She trailed off and exchanged another glance with her husband. "In a better position in the future."

"What?" The teen asked blankly. That made no sense. He and his friends had negative prospects.

"Go to your room. We're locking the doors and setting security to high." The man of the household ordered in a tone that meant instant obedience. It seemed like he'd decided that he wasn't going to bother with further conversation at all here.

Knowing better than to argue Phillipe did so. Not that it mattered that much. The household security was a joke. Sure it was Second Rate stuff, but it was mostly performance security rather than something actually secured. Most of it was automated processes and locks. All of it was stuff that Phillipe had bypassed years ago. That was sort of what happened when you left a child alone for most of their formative life. They learned how to bypass things.

"Did you all get some weird orders to stay home?" Philippe asked on the conference call he and his friends had setup when they first started hanging out once he'd settled in his room.

"Yes!" Several people confirmed. "I was told there's going to be mechs fighting." Another person added.

"Fighting?" Phillipe repeated in confusion. "Zhe enemy is at a low point at the moment."

"They didn't say more. Just that there was going to be fighting and the proper people will become leaders." One of the teens said.

"Oh for those imbéciles." Phillipe moved to his window. "That's rebellion talk. What gave them the idea that was a smart idea?!" He jittered the lock to make it unlock and then leveraged himself out of the now open window.

"You think there's a rebellion in the works?" Someone asked.

"I would say that it fits a few things, but it would be extremely foolish. I don't understand the implications though. Did anyone else get the impression that they expected us to be part of this?" Phillipe looked out around the yard as he spoke.

Fitting the status of his parents, he did have an actual yard. This was expensive, and made it rather tiring to sneak out, so he didn't do it very often. He could still do it. It just required some walking and being sure not to trip a few of the less hackable sensors.

"Something like that. I'll see what I can get."

"Me too!"

"On it!"

Philippe had reached the gate when his friends had more information. None of it was good. Combat was most certain. Considering that the aliens had just recently been majorly culled, this was internal combat. Stupid. Especially because several of their parents were completely convinced that their children would benefit from it.

"Ohhhh." The sound of discovery from one person made the young man pause. "This is worse than rebellion." The young girl breathed out.

"What do you mean?" Phillipe asked back.

"They have a live Arboretian. I just found the security logs. Officially they're studying it. They didn't record anything, but my parents just finished talking with it and I think it might have just been released." The girl's voice was small.

"Shit." Phillipe breathed out and then let his voice rise up. "Everyone quiet. Our parents are dead." He said authoritatively. "Leave now, if you can't text me. We'll get you all out. This is stupid and they're all dead once it's all resolved."

The young man's mind raced. He had no idea what to do more than that. It didn't matter how confident his parents were. What they were doing was more than enough to damn them all. This was the sort of thing that had families purged, and he was a traitor by default just because of what he was. They had no chance of victory. Even if they purged the city it'd just result in an entire army slamming down on the planet. Multiple battalions and even an Ace or two.

"Remember the Sweet Treat cafe? Meet up there. No one will comment if we gather there. We do it all the time." The young teen brushed his hair back and thought. "Shit shit shit." He had no idea what else to do! "Wait, do we know where that muscly foreigner is staying? His wife is an expert. They should know something, and they might be targets too."

"I can find it."

"Then do so. We can maybe get their help to stay alive." Phillipe breathed out and something occured to him. He was an only child. Not all of his friends were. "Camille, do you need help getting your sister out?"

"No." The girl said with what sounded like forced calm. "I'll drag her out if I need it."

"Good. Any other younger siblings, pull them out as well." The young man ordered. "Drag them if you need to. Things will be violent, but staying at home makes us fellow conspirators. It doesn't matter if the imbéciles win here, the rest of the nation will come down like a giant fist once their actions come to light."

 

[lost star]

Phillipe was running on half backed plans, dreams, and whatever passed as adrenaline for him, and he knew it. He really didn't see a better option though. This was completely unexpected and doubly mad. He genuinely couldn't follow the thought processes behind it. Especially once he noticed the movement of various people on the street. Rebellions weren't unheard of, but those were typically over poor pilot treatment. Last he heard morale was actually moving up!

Entering the hotel the foreigner was in wasn't hard. Bolt and Lilly had requested a VIP expensive one with high security. Genuine security. Phillipe could enter the hotel, but past that he would normally have been checked by the concierge and been forced to wait at a minimum. On a night like this there might have even been police involved depending on the mood of the officials.

That was the first clue that something was wrong here too. The front desk was empty. That didn't happen. Period.

"Merde." Phillipe swore and vaulted over the desk to look at the front desk controls.

Fortunately it wasn't locked. Whether through cost cutting measures or because of other factors, the main controls were available. Phillipe didn't have access to much admittedly. Check in, check out, and call lines. The latter was what he needed. VIP suites direct lines. He tapped the line to one of the numbers.

No response. He moved down the list.

This line rang again to no response. Phillipe cursed slightly and moved down.

The third rang several times and he was just about to hang up before it was answered. "Who the hell are you and what to you want?!" Bolt answered with genuine anger.

"This iz Phillipe!" The young man practically shouted. "Something is happening in the city and you might be in danger."

"Phillippe? The kid we met? Haha, good warning!" Lilly called out with a small laugh that had a trace of an edge. "That explains the team outside the door."

"Outside the door?!" Phillipe asked incredulously. "Merde, no. Don't let them take you. I'll try to think of something."

"Don't worry. They were a bunch of people that thought just guns and normal clothing was enough." Bolt said calmly. "The doors are secured, and they're down. We were trying to get contact with someone, but I'm guessing that this isn't just us."

Phillipe felt a cross between surprise and relief at the news and how calmly they were taking it. He barely noticed the rest of the conversation. He just told the couple where he was and answered a few questions. He only snapped out it when the two came down in masks and some sort of thick clothing.

"Slap this on." Bolt ordered as he presented a large robe and mask. "Do ya know where bunkers are?" He asked. "A city like this should have them."

"Some school drills have us head to one. It's usually accompanied by automated directions." The teenager answered as he pulled on the clothing. "What is this?" He asked belatedly.

An explosion happened, large and close enough that Phillipe flinched. The lights flickered before something clicked in the hotel and the emergency power turned on with a hum. A few lights turned red, but the usual alarms weren't happening.

"That." Bolt said grimly. "It's to handle that. We need ta get to the bunker. Everything is jammed and I have to assume emergency systems are being cut and interfered with now. My comm can get through it but we don't have time to wait for rescue. Get secured and go from there."

"Ah." Phillipe flinched as he heard cannon fire. "AH, my friends! They are also in danger!"

"Call them." Bolt threw his comm the young man's way. "We have a map hun?" He asked Lilly.

"All of it was digital, but some of it had independent power and was working correctly." Lilly answered and held up a sheet with a traced out map. "Nearest bunker."

Phillipe barely had time to direct his friends before the couple dragged him out of the hotel. "Wait, wait!! We can't go that way!" He shouted as glanced at the map.

"This place is a mess of alleyways so that's not surprising but where then?!" Lilly demanded. "Also mask on. I don't know what you're immune to, but the dust is going to get bad quick." Another explosion in the distance emphasized the point.

"All right. Down the alleyway to the right, and the street there has a underwalk that's not on map." Phillipe breathed out and glanced at his borrowed comm as a shaky video showed some damage his friends were seeing. "Oh, damnit all. One of the skyscrapers has fallen."

"Is it near your friends?" Bolt asked as he practically carried the other man.

"In sight. Those things are supposed to be reinforced to avoid that." Phillipe observed before shaking off the hand. "I am more fit than I look. Let me lead." He began to run even as he kept an eye on the comm. "Ok, my comrades will be able to meet us there."

The snap-hiss-pop and tackle completely destroyed what what pride and control he'd managed to gather. A few steps away something sizzled. Phillipe stared at the molten line on the wall half a block away with mild horror. It wasn't even a near miss. It was a shot in his general vicinity. The heat was such that he was quite sure that he would have had serious burns without the protective clothing and Lilly tackling him.

"Stray shot. From the right. Eyes not on us." The girl in question breathed out and grunted as she got to her feet. "I really shouldn't have done that."

"We'll get a checkup later. Our ships still in orbit and I don't trust trying an extraction in a warzone with an automated ship." Bolt said and helped his wife move.

The teenager gulped and continued to lead. Despite himself, and the brush with danger, he was achieving some measure of calm. It wasn't coming easily, but he had been drilled for things like this. With the battle damage the streets were even worse than usual. He tried to ignore the blood that accompanied that observation.

Reaching the shelter was a relief. His friends and some other people were there as well. There was a lot of crying. Bolt and Lilly took one look at them before Lilly stepped up.

"Everyone into the shelter now." The woman didn't shout. She simply ordered.

Phillipe was reminded right then and there that the woman was an expert still. The obedience was immediate and unquestioned. He wasn't excluded by that. He moved in before he could even register the order.

Inside was a mess. There was crying, there were people with burns, and one poor soul had what looked to be shrapnel in his torso. It was a wonder that he'd managed to get to the shelter really.

That was the first thing he did, almost before realizing it. He grabbed that man and dragged him to the automatic treatment facility. The machine wasn't that useful without a doctor, but it could stablize most war injuries. It was built for this. Throwing the man into it would hopefully keep him from dying.

"What is going on?" One of his friends asked.

"Do you expect me to have answers?" Phillipe answered back before taking a deep breath. "Never mind that. Did we get everyone?"

"Oui!"

Phillipe did a headcount even with that confirmation. It was only after he personally confirmed that his people were there that he let himself relax slightly. It was a small relief. It was also more than a little disheartening. His little group had twenty three people. It was the largest group in the shelter. The city had several million people in it.

The teenager didn't say it, but he feared the casualty rate was going to he horrendous. But what could he do? Going out there would be just adding to the victims according to Bolt. They lacked the tools and training to help, and it was devolving into a warzone. Phillipe felt more than a little lost.

 

[lost star]

"I don't like this." Lilly muttered to Bolt after things were situated.

"The bunker or something else?" Bolt asked back as he examined the structure and accessible data.

Power was good, armor was solid, the place even had a small mech-bay for repairs and storage if needed. It was empty of a mech, but it was something very defensible. The rations and water made it so that they could stay for years if they needed, and it'd take a dedicated effort to crack the armor.

"This rebellion, or betrayal as Philippe thinks." The woman glanced at the teenager.

The young man in question had moved to his friends and was trying to help organize people in the shelter. There was a lot to organize. People were drilled on evacuations, but they didn't actually believe it had ever been used. Now that it was happening they had the standard array of shock, dismay, rage, and grief. It was usually a pretty volatile mix, but Lilly's presence combined with Phillipe's rather good leadership skills were keeping it from spiraling as more and more people trickled in.

"What are your thoughts?" Bolt asked.

"The timing's too strange, along with other things. Your comm can get out right?" Lilly noted.

"Yes. I've already gotten a message passed out."

There was a lot of jamming involved. Bolt's gift from the hidden master was piercing through it as if it didn't exist. It had been harder to find someone to believe him than to get a communication out. Fortunately Bubbles and the MTA were both very helpful in this instance, doubly so when Philippe's information had been passed on. That sort of thing rated actual attention from the organization, and while the MTA wasn't going to deploy anyone yet, they were making damned sure the locals took the threat seriously.

Phillipe would probably be happy to note he and his friends already had a full pardon. It was something Bolt would relay to them later. For now survival in the immediate was paramount. Reinforcements would take a few days as forces were organized. That was actually very quick for a military response considering the distances involved.

"We gotta assume that you wouldn't be the only one with a line out." His wife pointed out. "So, they're either morons of epic proportions or they have a plan and goal they can do quickly."

Bolt nodded. "Do you have any idea of what we can do though?" He gestured to the bunker. "We got a lotta teens, a few traumatized civilians, and an empty mech bay. I can have our ship drop something, but we don't know the AA status. Everything could be shot down."

"Think we could get back to yer roots and salvage something?" Lilly asked with a slightly mischievous expression.

The designer frowned at the thought. "Give me a moment."

It took some looking, but there were enough tools for something. Not a lot. There was a hover-truck that had enough capacity to carry mech parts and he could jury rig a few of the necessary tools with the small fabricator in the mech bay. It wasn't going to be easy, but it was enough to work with.

He wouldn't want to put Lilly into a salvaged mech though. Not only was she pregnant, she'd tear one apart unintentionally. There just wasn't time for her to get used to something.

"Some of us can pilot." Phillipe offered as Bolt reasoned through the problem and assembled the tools he would need. "None are better than C, but it iz standard training to get some hours in a Lumberjack."

"I should be able to salvage something then." Bolt concluded. "We'd have a mech for defense at least."

"Biomechs are not easy to salvage quickly." The young man noted. "But if you believe you can, who am I to disagree. Shall we?"

"You want to come with?" Bolt asked.

"But of course! I am wasted simply sitting here and worrying!" Phillipe said with a grin that was rather obviously fake.

"I could use the hands I suppose." Bolt reasoned with a small shrug. "How strong are you?"

"Testing indicates stronger than human average." The teen answered.

Time to test that further then. Bolt printed out a few sets of metal and strapped them to the young man. Thin mech-grade armor wasn't going to stop a mech strike, but it's stop a near miss. Combined with the other protection and he wouldn't die if they got into a scrap. Not that Bolt was planning on it.

"First rule is if you see a mech, assume you're in sight." Bolt said as they left on the hover truck. "If they turn towards you, stay low and get out of physical sight. The robes are treated enough to make most sensors skip over you unless they're very good."

He'd had them treated specifically to handle Second Rate sensors. It only worked because most mech sensors were designed for mechs, not infantry. Infantry were basically nothing to a mech except in very special cirumstances so there was no real effort to find them.

"Second rule, your life first, then the parts. If it's risky, don't bother." Bolt continued. "We're going into an active warzone. There's going to be a lot of parts. For this we need enough for one mech."

"Oui." Phillipe said as he jittered in place. "How are you so calm?"

"Experience mostly." Bolt replied as he turned down a street, keeping low. "Third rule, as a general one. Keep low and in cover. The cover won't save you from a direct hit, but most mech pilots don't give a damn about people."

There, a mech was downed. No allies were nearby. Half its torso was completely missing. Perfect. And messy. There were pools of sap on the ground. Enough that when Bolt got out of the truck it splatted across his boots.

One thing he had to give them. Biomechs were ugly and made an appalling scene when downed. This was like looking at a dead body, and based on Phillipe's almost retching, it was human enough to trigger a gag reflex.

"We're taking the lower torso." Bolt ordered. "Get out the chains and wrap them around the legs."

Credit to the teenager, he did as requested. Bolt focused on other things. The upper chassis was completely ruined. The below the hips was in decent condition. The trick was separating them.

That meant getting through the armor and the skeleton. There were always gaps around the stomach area of a mech. You just had to pry up the armor slightly and then get the welder in there to remove whatever the designer had decided was best to secure the armor. It was easier said than done. Mechs weren't built to allow this sort of thing because Bolt was essentially 'attacking' it.

Since this was a biomech, it was more akin to surgery on a dead body, with the accompanying spurts of blood in the form of sap. Bolt was absolutely drenched in the stuff after a few minutes, but he got enough of the armor off to rip through the comparatively weaker fibers that made it's muscles. That left the spine equivalent exposed.

Here was the loud and most dangerous part. "Are the chains attached?" Bolt asked.

"They are, I think." Phillipe said.

"Back the truck away and let them grow tight. If they give they aren't." The designer said.

This actually horrifically risky, but the truck was Second Rate. It wouldn't be damaged by the chains coming unmoored and whipping around. Bolt watched the teen carefully pull back and the tension and then gave a stopping gesture. They were secured enough. He threw on two salvage wheels on the hips after that.

Now for the real work. Bolt grabbed at the cutter he'd made and ignited it. The area around him lit up in as a small sun formed in front of him. He then lowered it down to the spine and held it there. One, two, three, four. Ten seconds before the spine loosened enough that he figured it could pop free.

A lifetime in a battle. A call to every sensor in a block. It was a bloom of heat and energy that had to be done to rip apart a mech, because they were weapons of war and weren't designed to allow this.

Bolt didn't bother to clean up. He ran to the truck and got in. "Floor it and back to the base." He ordered.

"What?!" Phillipe asked. "Oh that smell is rather thick." He coughed a few times before pulling on the gifted mask.

"Floor it. I can explain on the way, but we've been here too long." Bolt ordered again, and the teenager did so.

Behind them something screamed and the truck bucked. Then the torso of the mech began to come with them with a shriek of metal on street before the crude wheels Bolt had stamped on began their work. Bolt looked this way and that as they drove and didn't relax.

"Using a cutter like that is like a big shoot me sign." Bolt explained after a tense minute. "You do it quick and run or take cover. You do not stay around."

"Ah." The teen breathed out and then jerked as a loud explosion came from behind him.

"Hard ta tell if that was area denial, direct attack, or someone just shooting cause they noticed something." The designer observed with calm.

He politely ignored the whimper from his companion. They still had a lot more to go if they needed a mech assembled. There was probably going to be more of that.

 

[lost star]

Biomechs were best described as a parallel technology to standard mech technology. A lot of it interlapped, but the central precept required technology specifically designed for biological processes. This meant that working with it typically required an entirely different educational base. Bolt had looked into it and tried to apply his mind to it, but frankly had found it not to his liking.

He was a man who worked with metal. It was in his blood. The technology around biomechanical mechs was ultimately completely opposed to his standard work processes. Which was ultimately not an issue. Not everyone was suited to everything. Bolt had gotten the basics down through some intense study and decided that he had no desire to truly work with the systems involved. (He also honestly had enough on his plate.)

With all of this said, disliking it did not mean Bolt could not work with the mechs at all. Especially when it came to salvaging. Though he had to say, salvaging a biomech was a messy and thoroughly unpleasant process. It was also oddly something he could handle more than trying to think about designing the blasted things. He just had to ignore the fact that it was messy in a very liquid sort of way.

Fortunately he was helped by the fact that most of the mechs in use were Lumberjacks. Having a lot of the same model had made salvaging a fully intact mech relatively simple. He'd only had to make a few trips and then had to put it all together.

"Just have to put it all together eh?" Bolt muttered to himself as he looked at the mess of parts he'd managed to salvage.

This was more surgery than mech design! He had body parts masquerading as mech parts! Some of them were bleeding sap. Welding some of this wouldn't work. So how would he accomplish the task of turning these parts into a valid mech here?

Some inquiries with the refugees had managed to get him a medical student's aid. The young woman looked very green as she came into the room, but she was able to speak, and she was competent enough to answer questions. That was all Bolt needed.

The key problem that was hindering him was the spine. Bolt had been forced to cut it to get the parts into the bay. The spine on a local biomech was a carbon-laced bone amalgam that could be likened to a human spine in function if not composition. The stuff was far more durable than anything in a person, and a fair bit heavier to boot. It also wasn't really meant to be broken like Bolt had.

Taking cues from surgery techniques, Bolt ended up ripping out some of the spinal sections and then replacing them with printed parts. He then fused some of it with modern day bone fusing techniques and reassembled the mech. The back was going to be stiff, but the mech would only lose a bit of motion rotating the center. That was acceptable in this case.

With the spine properly redone, Bolt and the medical student went through the rest of the process almost as if the mech was a patient. This turned out to be an involved process that took both of them to do. They had to figure out how to stitch up the muscles, flush the coolant without actually breaking all of the lines, actually deal with a lot of the 'veins' that pushed sap to places. It was a mix of ad-hoc medical techniques and intuition. Really, Bolt was add-libbing half of it, but it seemed to work. Using finger thick wires to do stitching involved half a dozen improvised innovations alone!

To top it all off Bolt's final action required him hooking the mech up to an electrical generator and pushing a current throughout the entire machine. He categorically did not shout out anything when he did it. (His aide did.) The mech needed a sort of jump start to galvanize most of it's mechanisms before he could get it finished off. Frankly it was probably the most insane part of the process, and one that was also very dangerous. It worked though.

All told, it wasn't a pretty mech in the end. It was a Lumberjack, salvaged. Considering the entire process he'd just done was not something Biomechs were designed for, Bolt had to be satisfied with it. He left the bay in as good spirit as one could be, after he took a shower. The 'surgery' had been extremely messy and he was absolutely covered with sap towards the end of it. Since it was mildly toxic, this meant he needed a few pills and some time for his system to be flushed.

"You still smell like sap." Lilly noted once Bolt rejoined his life.

"I had to practically wade through the stuff at several points." The designer said with a groan as he flopped down onto a rather uncomfortable metal seat and shifted several times. "I haven't done a salvage job like that in awhile." He muttered. It was almost nostalgic.

"So we have a mech?" Phillipe asked.

"Checks ran green after I kicked the computer. The axe is intact and usable. Ammo filled for the back mount. It's as ready for a pilot as it can be considering the circumstances." Bolt responded and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He was running of stims and nothing else at the moment and was having trouble thinking. "How have things gone while I was busy?"

"Got a lotta shellshock and refugees are still trickling in. With the dawn we can see the damage to the city. It's still intact, but oddly quiet. After the night fighting I'd expected more, but there's nothing out there." Lilly said.

"Don't know what else is happening on our end." Phillipe contributed. "Your comm can breach the jamming, but that matters little with no one else able to get through. It sucks."

"It's a war." Bolt observed calmly. "We're also not really part o' it. Our job is to survive. Influencing things will be nearly impossible. We have a pilot ready?"

"Camille is our best one. She's a C rank, barely." The young man said. "It iz not something that is common in our circle of friends, and I do not trust anyone else."

"I'll get her in and we can run through a paces inside." Lilly offered quickly. "It will be a last resort though. It's a single mech. Our best bet is to last until we can be sure we can get into orbit, and then flee."

"That will take a few days." Bolt noted and closed his eyes.

He wanted to sleep, but his mental state demanded a half a dozen things, and was keeping him up. The best he was going to be able to do was just try to keep his eyes shut and try to center himself. It wasn't a new situation, simply an unpleasant one..

"So we wait?" Phillipe asked incredulously.

"Ain't happy about it, but without news all we can do is that." Lilly replied quietly. "Getting more information could let us plan." The expert patted her swelling stomach. "I can't head out myself."

The young man nodded slowly. "What if we head out?" He asked back.

"We won't ask you to do that." Bolt replied back immediately.

"Me and a few others can head out with ze mech. It won't be easy, but there are several official places that we know of. A mech will help." Phillipe pointed out.

"That will be very, very risky." Lilly said.

Bolt opened his eyes to see that the young man looked determined. He sighed quietly. He knew that feeling far too well. He suddenly felt old, even if the feeling was nonsense. Screw it.

"Give me a few hours and I'll try to soup up the mech." Bolt muttered. "Didn't want ta do it cause that's stuff fer repairs and emergencies, but yer not going with just a salvaged mech."

Phillipe nodded gratefully.

 

[lost star]

Green Barrier 12 was not the only planet in its parent nation. It was in fact one of over a hundred. It was one planet amongst many in a Second Rate nation. This meant many things. It meant several hundred planets were organized to support it. It meant that a bureaucracy had been created to organize everything. This required administrators, it required a significant amount of money. It also required a massive amount of attention and work. Hence why the MTA had specifically founded a nation to handle most of it while they handled other goals.

This had been a relatively large undertaking. Despite the technology level the big two had, space was massive. There was an enormous amount of empty area that people had to cover, and containing an intelligent race with FTL completely was explicitly impossible. What the MTA, and the nation they'd propped up had done was simply create a barrier of fortified planets at valuable points and sent out endless probes to less valuable areas to keep an eye on things. The Arboretians were contained by humanity taking the good spots and leaving nothing of value within a reasonable distance rather than anything resembling a siege that would happen on a planet.

All of this made a lot of things very necessary. Such as appointing a general to oversee everything. This introduced points of failure unfortunately. Despite what popular fiction would tell you, not all generals were stellar, battle tested geniuses. Generals were people, and as one rose up in the ranks politics came into play more than competence. Many rose to their position through bribery, nepotism, or just because they said the right things. It was a common problem in all human organizations. From First to Third rate, there were always the less then competent in positions of importance. Technology usually only served to paper over the issue and could sometimes allow catastrophic failures to occur because people had come to rely too much on technology and not enough on themselves.

General Garcon was typical of those less than competent. He was a man who'd risen to his position through a combination of ass kissing and the ability to find cushy jobs he could overexaggerate his accomplishments for. Being in charge of the Barrier planets had just been another step on his career path. Him taking the position had been considered reasonable due to the current situation. Humanity and the Arboretians had been performing low effort attacks rather than nail biting knife fights for the past few years. Being a general for it was therefore mostly watching reports and shuffling the forces on a schedule to keep from being predictable. There were no grand offense in the works, and the defense amounted to housekeeping.

Housekeeping was something that Garcon could do with the appropriate handlers. His human and computer aides typically handled almost all of the day to day operations. He just had to sign off on a lot of decisions and schmooze with others. It was almost a net benefit, because the man's one real strength was being good at fundraising.

Being woken up in the dead of night and being forced to take a custom made stim was very far from his area of competence. It was something he'd only experienced once, and that was a training exercise right after he'd first joined. He was pushing eighty now. If he didn't have life extension treatment, his heart would have given out.

It went without saying that the man wasn't handling things well.

"Explain it again." The man demanded as he settled in his plush and perfectly contoured seat.

"Secondary alerts for Green Barrier 12 are showing false." The aide was not so unprofessional as to show anything on her face. Garcon could tell she thought him an idiot anyway.

"But primary alerts are not showing anything?" Garcon reasoned out. "Run me through it assuming I do not know it." He ordered with a grunt.

"All barrier planets have three layers of alerts. The primary layer, and where most of communications come from are the twelve hour reports from the on planet Colonel or officer on duty. This has been given. A secondary alert triggers when the primary report is functionally identical to a primary report." The aide reported without a trace of emotion.

"So the Colonel what, copy pasted a report?" Garcon asked incredulously and pounded on a hand rest. "That doez not necessitate my rest being disturbed!"

The woman met his eyes calmly as she shook her head and explained further. "No, the reports are verbal. Functionally identical means someone recorded a verbal report and played it at the appropriate time. The twelve hour reports are done to inform us that the people are still alive and on duty, they're frequently identical verbally, but we have software to analyze their voices. In essence, the men on duty are either dead or incapacitated Monsieur."

"Or they simply played hooky. We have demanded another report correct?" Garcon asked.

"It was done by one of your subordinates. The response they got was from a Lieutenant giving the all clear." The aide paused and added. "I must note that they were not on the approved list of those that can give the report."

Garcon sighed and rubbed at his forehead. It was late, his heart was racing due to the stim, and this felt like absolutely nothing. He wanted to dismiss it all.

"This sounds like barracks shenanigans." The general muttered. "Do we have more information?"

"Our orbital assets in the area are attempting to gather more information, but we recently pulled most away, so it will take some time." The aide paused and continued with growing alarm. "We also just recently gotten a report from the MTA indicating that there might be traitors on the planet."

The man sat up straight. "The MTA?! Why did you not lead with that?!" He demanded as he paled.

"Monsieur, the message just came in!" The woman said. "I've given you the facts we can confirm as they have been reported!"

"Blast it all, that doesn't matter now. What matters is that the MTA is looking into things! Send one of our Aces with supporting staff there immediately. Send in our quick response team! Send in everyone you can think of! I want arrests. I want executions. I want to know what the entire garrison ate for breakfast!" Garcon almost roared as he leaped out of the seat. "If the MTA is even looking at the planet, it has to sparkle."

"Our quick response team is not meant for investigation." The aide said quietly as she rapidly typed on the tablet she'd brought to the meeting. "If the ace team is deployed the city will be leveled from their activation."

"Irrelevant!" The general waved it off. "In fact, put it in orders. Solve the problem first. Save the city secondary. We need that planet secured and traitors beheaded. Don't spare anything. Have a rebuild order drafted as well in case we need it. It will not be ze first time we have had to remake one of those places. We have the people."

"To clarify Monsieur, you wish the city leveled?" The woman asked with a slight tremble of her hand.

"Non. The MTA telling us this means they want results. Take anyone with a whiff of anything and have them put under a microscope." Garcon snapped his fingers. "Use all of our emergency budget if necessary. If the MTA thinks we're slacking it won't be just me on the guillotine."

With a nod the aide began to bring up things and several holograms came to life. "Our quick response team is two days out. Our ace a week out."

"We have nothing faster?" The general asked.

"There is a direct line to the informant." Was the response as the woman continued to work to pull up more information. "Our contact on the ground is a civilian from a neighboring sector. A designer named Bolt Silica. Apparently a few of the children that their parents were aiding and abetting the enemy."

Garcon blinked several times before things connected in his head and he broke out in a sweat. "He must be some MTA official hiding. Merde. Transfer full authorization to him. Give him my credentials if necessary."

An order like that made the woman pause. "Sir?"

"Think woman! The MTA sent an actual message. This Bolt person isn't a Journeyman, he haz to be something else as well! We have to be seen as being cooperative. Give him ze planet if we need to! Bend over backwards and kiss his ass if he asks for it." The general ordered with all his authority. "Go quick, now!"

Trembling the woman nodded and practically ran from the room to fulfil her orders. The old man flopped into the chair as she left and heaved a sigh. His hands were shaking. Damnit, this should have been an easy job. Now he was going to have a heart attack!

 

[lost star]

I041

---

"We have an actual plan now." Philippe told his friends as they gathered. "Bolt has been given authorization codes for a facility nearby. We need to go there, hook up with the people if they are loyal, and then let him know. If we are lucky, they have more mechs."

"We only have three other pilots." Camille pointed out through her mech loudspeaker.

"Oui, but that's still more than what we had before, and that will have to mean something." The teen said with a grim shrug as they left the shelter.

Neither he nor Bolt knew what was going through the general's head. All they knew was that the designer now had full authority over the city, and requests that he resolve the situation to the best of his ability. So Bolt and Phillipe were running with it. Where they were running was up in question. Right now it was down the street and hopefully to someone with more more information.

The streets were quiet as they moved. Several buildings were scarred, and traffic was gone. A few terrified people gazed at them as they traveled down the streets, and then hid. Phillipe wanted to reassure people. He didn't. That decision felt more haunting than it should have.

For a long moment the only sound was the wheels of the trucks they were taking and the footsteps of the mech. Contact, when it came, was abrupt. The thudding of a mech running sounded first. Then Camille moved forward.

The opponent was a metal mech. That was Phillipe's first indication of trouble. Traditional mechs weren't banned from the city, but they most certainly wouldn't be used by anyone local. This opponent had two blades, one on each hand. It was pure black, and sleek in a way that radiated a sense of both speed and danger. Both of which it displayed by darting forward before Camille could even begin to react.

Fortunately for the girl, Bolt had prepared for something like this. The Lumberjack's back mounted weapons were heavy things. They weren't cannons, but only by technicality. They were designed to punch through heavy armor at short to medium range, and had poor tracking. Bolt had switched that to a grapeshot analog. His reasoning was that if there was going to be a fight, it would have been between mechs.

Camille's reflexively triggered those cannons and that grapeshot on the approach. The black mech was knocked off course and slammed into a nearby building as the impact turned its lunge into a spin. The structure cracked as the mech braced itself and got back to it's feet, armor mildly shredded.

"Go!" The girl shouted, and Phillipe and the others went.

Behind him the battle continued. Phillipe had a moment to see her fire off the back cannons again as she brought the axe up between them. In response the chest of the mech lit up and a laser lanced out to impact her armor. The teen couldn't see more. He just floored it in hopes that he could reach the facility in time.

In the normal order of things it would have taken a few minutes to get to his destination. He reached it in less than two. It was not a large structure. It was a squat thing with massive reinforced gates meant for mechs. Most of it was underground, and it was triply reinforced. There were no signs of battle damage, but Phillipe didn't take that as a sign of anything. He instead ran to one of the peripheral entrances. This one was for people, and had an automated lock. Phillipe tapped his comm to it and waited as patently as he could.

A long second passed. Then Bolt's gifted authorization went through and the door started to slowly open. The teen barely waited to try to get in. He wedged himself in the door and almost screamed as he saw a gun. The soldier that met him was dressed in a helmet and armor, so the young man couldn't tell what he was thinking, but it couldn't have been anything good.

"Who are you, and why do you have auth codes?!" The man demanded.

"Ack, my name is Phillipe, and we got them from ze general in charge of the barrier planets. We need to reestablish contact and get a situation update! I have a friend who was able to get through the jamming!" the teen could barely believe what he was spouting as he waved his hands. Behind him one of his friends choked down something.

"You have a line outside?!" The man asked before shaking his head and gesturing inside. "No wait, it doesn't matter. You have valid codes. In now! We need things unlocked and there's enemy's outside!"

"We know, our friend was fighting to buy us time." Phillipe said. "Do we have mechs?"

"A dozen locked, pending authorization codes, which you have. No pilots though, so I hope your hanger ons have training." The guard growled out. "We need that outside line more though. The chain of command iz fucked."

"What do you mean?" The teen asked with mounting dread as they ran deeper into the facility.

"Half of command is confirmed az dead, the rest are traitors, a full lock down of our systems happened, and for some reason there's a ten-year abomination past he barriers prowling around the streets." The soldier said grimly. "If you have someone with authority we can unlock the systems at least. Everyone with the proper codes are dead, so you're literally the only one that has it."

"Merde." Phillipe cursed and then gestured to his friends. "Run to the mech bays. Get them prepped and out there, bring our girl back and then run to Bolt. We need him here. Be quick, please."

"Don't know this Bolt, but if he gave you the codes then we'll need him." The guard agreed. "At the very least I don't want someone with that authority outside someplace secured."

"Of course." The young man muttered. "It couldn't be easy."

That got a very dark laugh as they entered the command center for the fortification. There were only a few people there and all of them had very black looks. Phillipe could guess why. The base was at minimum power. That attitude changed as several consoles lit up with Phillipe's entrance. For a moment the teen was confused, but then he realized that was because he technically had a general's authorization.

"How did..." A woman cut herself off. "No matter. You just cleared the lock." She noted as she typed at a console. "Its taking my commands now. I don't know where you got a general's codes, but you might have just saved the city."

"Get to the mechs and get our friend back." Phillipe ordered his allies and stepped forward. "I am Phillipe, and I have apparently been given authorization to unlock everything. Do we have a situation update?"

"Non. All we have is what some of us saw." The woman said. "It's not good. We got a general shutdown command in the night and then a few of our pilots got murdered trying to get to other facilities. I am just a designer, not someone with command, so I cannot say more."

"That is not good." The young man noted grimly.

"Not good iz an understatement." Was the reply. "The hard-lines should be able to talk with the other fortifications through the jamming, but there should have been more coordination than what we've observed. We must assume that there was a decapitation strike. Thankfully with the systems up we should know more shortly."

"Decapitation strike means everyone that should be in charge is dead right?" Phillipe had to confirm.

"Oui."

That sort of meant that Bolt was now in charge, which was quite insane. He wasn't even a citizen!

 

[lost star]

Things were a mess. That was putting it politely. If one wanted to be really truthful about it, one could say that it was a dumpster on fire. Bolt had no real sense of military matters. He didn't need any of it to tell that things were absolutely screwed. Thankfully it was less that they were screwed and more everything was screwed up.

"Have we made contact with anyone actually trained in this? Are they all dead?" Bolt asked the others in the command center soon after he entered.

"Maybe?" The woman who seemed to have taken charge said tentatively. "None of the officers that should be active are in contact. There should be a few still alive, but with the jamming and chaos they might not be able to reach us. A few of the people we can talk with have reported a significant amount of battles with equipment we don't have. Our tentative conclusion is that visitors objected to the events and fought back."

Bolt nodded slowly and looked over the tactical map of the city. There was a lot of red. That didn't indicate hostile forces. It just indicated places they knew there'd been conflict. It was not encouraging that most of the place was red.

"I don't think there were that many traitors or they were that successful." Phillipe offered from the side tentatively. "It just doesn't make sense."

His words got a nod from the female designer. "I do agree, even if we lack evidence. If they had the numbers they would be visibly trying to take control. Instead they are trying to ambush and hiding still. Our best bet for victory at the moment would be to find Venerable Odette I believe. She should be able to help us secure a proper rally point."

With a nod Bolt brought up a few pictures of the mech that had been fighting with Camille. It was one of the few pieces of actual fully trustworthy intelligence. "What information do you have on this? My initial thoughts are that it's a Lumberjack counter and it's likely what the enemy's using as their primary mech."

"Thoze trash heaps are called Tree-Wasps. The other Second Rate nation in the sector uses them as throw away garbage. You can get a hundred no questions asked in a minute on any black market in the sector." The woman sounded both enraged and irritated by that.

So the closest thing Second Rate mechs got to frontline mechs. Still expensive compared to Third Rate, but bottom of the barrel. Bolt had more appreciation for them than his compatriot. It was sleek, thematic, and surprisingly solid despite the cheapness. It felt like a mech that was despised because it was popular more than because it was bad.

He wasn't going to say that. Instead Bolt reviewed what they had again. There was little more. Right now the local forces were rallying thanks to renewed contacts, but the lack of officers was causing serious coordination issues. Nominally Bolt was in charge due to the general's decision to transfer him command codes. He really had no idea what to do with all of it aside from asking people to get into contact with more loyalists.

"Venerable Odette. Where would she be? Do we have reports about her?" Bolt asked with a tap on the display.

"She pilots a rather vibrant flying lancer. We have had no reports of it. Her position is classified and she has a full time guard that is explicitly loyal to her. Security wise if she is not in her mech she is in a safe spot." The woman explained.

"Hmm. Nifty." Lilly mused from the side.

"Nifty?" Bolt asked and then blinked at what his wife was looking at. "Oh, you have her records?"

"Bolt, honey, you have full access to all classified information thanks to yer codes." Lilly responded and flicked through a few things on his comm. "I don't even like dealing with this stuff and I found it. we have fallback information, points of contact, and her mech location."

"Ah," Bolt breathed out and took a deep breath and then realized something. "Let's try calling her." The man said with mild amusement and began the call.

It was mildly hilarious how powerful his comm was, but that was what you got when you got a First Rate device. How it was getting through the jamming and allowing calls was impossible to say. He was fairly sure it was running something robust though, because there was a trace amount of heat coming from it as it worked it's magic.

"Odette speaking. Verify yourself, this is an unknown number." The response was quick.

"Oh thank the founders. This is Debora." The woman designer breathed out as she took the comm from Bolt. "We have a line that can pierce the jamming." She rattled off a series of numbers and a few other details that seemed to convince the expert of her authenticity in short order. "What's your status?"

"Mech has been sabotaged. We're pinned down in safehouse three." The expert reported back. "Commands, reinforcements?"

"Phillipe. Take a few of the guards here and your friends and prepare to help the expert." Bolt interjected. "Your goal will be her and the mech only if you can get it. She's the priority. Do you recall the salvage tricks?"

"Yes Monsieur!" The teen gave a salute that almost looked right before running out.

"I do not recognize that voice." The expert on the call said.

"Bolt Silica." The man said with a smile that couldn't be seen by her. "I apparently have authorization codes and a way to talk thanks to my special comm."

There was a beat of silence before the expert almost audibly dismissed the strangeness of the statement. "Very well. We will need more than a few. They want me dead, and I believe one of ze great foe has stolen a mech. The movement of one of them makes me suspicious."

Bolt frowned. "We don't have more. That said..." He trawled through the information. "We do have something that can be very distracting and attention gathering." Now that he knew he had access, he could see other classified information. On thing in particular was interesting. "You were working on a mech here?"

"Classified-" The designer paused and winced at the very obvious blueprints on the general display. "Well, yes. It was a heavy code-named Woodpecker."

"Looks half finished." Bolt noted as he looked over the blueprint. "Ah, and I just realized we never exchanged introductions." He brought that up because he could see her name on the designer notes. Senior Debora.

"Oui, but I don't think it matters much here." The Senior said dryly. "We are past casual introductions Monsieur Silica."

"Yep," The man responded with a small laugh. "Ok, we have a half finished heavy biomech in the bay with a lot of parts. What was it trying to prove, because I know a prototype when I see it."

"The main focus was the twin Gatling Guns. My specialty is in heavy weapons for biomechs." Debora said as she highlighted several points. "The weapons are finished, but the were valid flaws in the overall design that makes me hesitant to deploy it."

"It's slow, the tracking is bad on the weapons, and you don't have additional ones installed yet." Bolt concluded quickly.

"Er, yes." Debora responded with mild surprise before she continued with more confidence. "The initial thought was to simply test out the chassis with the weapons first. They were personally designed with several new ideas and I desired data. Some imbeciles decided that they wanted a full mech instead of a testbed and the project was stopped halfway through the growth."

The words made Bolt pause and look at the Senior in confusion. "Is that common?" He had to ask.

"More than I like, but it does not happen with every design I work on with the military. I am thankful I am in the experimental division at least." The senior said with a brief look of exhaustion. "But that is neither her nor there. What are your plans?"

"There's enough here material to make an expert mech. Lilly is an expert." Bolt gestured to his wife.

"She iz?!" Debora asked with mild shock. "I didn't notice!"

"You have an expert?!" The still listening Odette asked. "Why is she not deployed!?"

"I can restrain my presence a bit." The woman said with a small wave as she did something that made everyone's eyes snap to her. "And I have a child on the way. Violent movement could damage him." She told the other woman.

"This won't be extremely risky I think. A heavy marksman that doesn't move wouldn't be anymore risky than being in a warzone, and we just need them to move people away from Odette." Bolt explained.

Lilly's eyes sharpened and she looked at the mech. "It could work, but that's still a sitting duck."

"Then I make that a feature." The man said as he began to look through the documentation he now had access to.

Debora hissed out a breath. "You are accessing far too many classified files."

"I know, but ya'll put me in this position. You can keep the mech after we make it. We just need a stopgap measure." Bolt opened up several documents and began to write up something on his own.

"What exactly, no, you're trying to crack the FTL? We've been trying that ever since we discovered they could do it." The senior muttered as she watched his work.

"Power requirements and immature specimens prevent us from getting data according to the reports I see. Looks like there was something like an attempt to let one grow here?" Bolt highlighted a particular line that seemed rather ominous in retrospect. "But FTL is really just bending reality in the end. We don't necessarily need a full example, or this... Phase Water?" He squinted at the notes for the exotic material. "That cost is insane. We also don't got any. What we do have is a lotta examples of aliens. If we trace how exotics form in their bodies, we can isolate what's probably key exotics and do something less than FTL but still useful."

"Study 901." The senior said back. "Also Study 1322A if I'm following what you want here."

"You might be. We want to grab that, and sort of use it to do this." Bolt brought up several FTL calculations that worked with how space warped and bent. "We're cribbing off their compact FTL to create something that warps space. It'll need a massive amount of power, but it will also really get some attention and give the mech an edge that negates its flaws."

"Those equations..." Debora winced as she looked at them. "That will be possible. It's also going to be one of the most expensive heavies I've seen and eat enough energy that we can't do anything else."

"For once, breaking the bank is in our best interest. I'm going to need you to handle a lot of the creation once we sketch this out. I lack the expertise in creating a mech." Bolt reasoned out. "And this is going to be rough if we want it done fast."

"As an emergency measure I feel like this will be doable." The senior had to agree. "It's the best option we have I think."

"It's a plan." Odette agreed with audible reluctance.