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i-identify-munitions-in-posts · 6 months ago

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Roost

Sigrid stared at the work order. Sometimes things that appear simple are difficult. Sometimes things that appear difficult are simple. Sometimes things appear difficult only to those with enough context to appreciate them.

MechTech: Sigrid Guntran Initial assignment: Highlander ‘Old Bird’s Nest’ Bay: 14 Work order: Left leg - realign ankle actuator Center torso - repair armor panel (laser hits) Reactor - general maintenance Other - Full systems check Notes: Sigrid, Melissa asked for you specifically on this job. You got this. -Karrie

She had the context.

The ‘Mech was Melissa’s. Commanding General Hazen. The big boss, in charge of the entire SLDF. This was her personal ‘Mech. Melissa would never stand for formality but Sigrid knew. She knew this was important and not a job to be taken lightly.

The ‘Mech was ancient. And not just ancient. Systems from multiple eras and places and standards had come together to form a precariously-balanced ecosystem of technology. Upsetting any of the components, even to make it ‘better’, had the potential to unbalance the entire tower and cause it to crash down.

The ‘Mech was an heirloom. Components from all over Clan history had come together to create this perfect fusion of history and significance in the shape of a Highlander. Every component a piece of art, every single system a fragment of history, every scratch, dent or mark cataloged and revered.

And Commanding General Hazen had requested her to work on it. That was okay, no pressure.

Breathe. Deep in, slow out.

It would be easiest to start at the bottom and work her way up, and at this point there was no point worrying more. There was a job, it needed doing, she needed to do it. She grabbed her toolbox and walked over to the proud ‘Mech in Bay fourteen. Even powered-down the Old Bird’s Nest was an impressive sight. Tall and regal, befitting the Black Watch, which it led from the front.

And here it was, shut down, ready for Sigrid to give it all the care and attention it required to do its job once more. She placed her hand on the paneling of the towering ‘Mech’s foot.

“Not long now, girl. We’ll get you what you need.”

She took off the panel, one fastener at a time. It reminded her of the first time she saw this foot, Melissa’s head poking out and Sigrid having no clue how she should act. She still didn’t, really. But she knew how Melissa wanted her to act, and that was enough.

She set the panel aside and hopped onto the foot, and then down into the cavity. She was thankful the work lights were positioned the way they were, allowing her to just see the adjustment marks on the joint. Where they were supposed to be was not where they currently were. Thankfully, that was an easy fix. The adjustment bolt was right there and–

And it was already bottomed out.

That was not what she wanted to see. A bottomed-out adjustment bolt meant that there was no more slack to take up, no more way to easily adjust the alignment. But the alignment needed adjusting.

She took a step back and had another look at the complete mechanism. She couldn’t see any obvious signs of damage or warping on the components, no cracks or bends. She ran her hand across the surface to feel for burrs or subtle clues. What she found was her fingers wedging themselves into the clearance. They shouldn’t be able to do that.

What it meant was that the center wasn’t sitting in, well, the center. The inside of the joint was supposed to have a gap around it, roughly equal in all directions, so it could move freely. The fact that her fingers got stuck meant that it was narrower near the bottom.

And that meant that the likely culprit was the wear plates. But that was okay, that’s why they were there. Anywhere there are heavy components rubbing against each other with enormous forces, such as needing to withstand 90 tonnes of force with every step, there are wear plates. They were a lot easier to replace than the entire ankle joint, but it did mean this adjustment had just turned from a ten-minute job into a two-hour one.

She stepped back and mentally took stock of the situation. She needed to replace the wear plates deep inside the Nest’s ankle joint. If she tried to take the ankle joint apart while there was still half a ‘Mech resting on it, it’d explode into a million pieces and the Highlander would topple over. This would be bad.

She needed a way to get the weight off of the left leg, and somewhere else. Anywhere else. There was the ceiling-mounted crane above the Bay, but there was no way that would be able to support the entire 90 tonnes of ‘Mech and lift it clean off its feet.

‘Mech designers are smart though, and had already thought of situations like this. The Highlander had a mechanism inside each knee joint that, when activated, would lock the opposing knee in place. Even if the ‘Mech itself was powered down. This would allow ‘Techs to lift the knee and work on the ankle or foot or myomer without risk of damaging the components. The tricky bit, though, would be accessing that mechanism. There was no way to attach the crane’s chain to the massive knee in order to provide the required force.

Thankfully the designers had thought of that too. Two innocuous-looking bolts, on each side of the knee joint, could be removed and replaced with hardened bolts with hooks on the end. The crane could connect to those and lift the knee from the outside.

It did make her wonder for a moment why it was just the left ankle that needed aligning, before she remembered the chassis type. She bet five C-Bills against herself that Melissa favored the left foot when performing Highlander Burials.

She climbed back out of the hole and over to the terminal. The downside of working in a MechLab this big was that it took absolute ages to fetch the replacement parts, consumables, and anything standard-sized from the warehouse. The upside was that you didn’t have to.

She scrolled through the list of parts in stock, selected the appropriate ones, and pressed the big ‘request for delivery’ button. Four max-length eye bolts, and two full sets of Highlander ankle joint wear plates. If she didn’t replace the right ankle plates too, it’d only be a matter of time before the Old Bird’s Nest came in again. Plus, doing it now would make it easier to calibrate both of them to be the same angle.

Next step would be preparing to relieve the strain on the ankle joint, and that meant getting the heavy crane into position, as well as her climbing harness. No access ladder to that part. At least directing the crane could be done from the terminal, but for the other part she needed to make her way to the nearest lockers.

She picked out a properly rated harness and started putting it on over her coveralls. It wasn’t hard, just time consuming. She emptied her pockets; medkit, water bottle, tablet, several tools, in order to make it easier to pull the climbing gear over her clothes. She was barely done and on her way back when she saw the electric flatbed pull up to Bay 14. She finished attaching her tablet back to her wrist and walked the rest of the way.

“Hey Snaps!” she called out, “Got you on delivery duty today?”

The driver got out and offered his fist, which hers met in a smooth motion as she walked along the truck to the cargo bed.

“Yeah, all hands today with the amount of repairs we got. Plus showing the new kid the ropes.”

From around the flatbed Sigrid could hear fastening straps being unclipped to prepare for unloading them.

“Sigrid, I’d like you to meet–”

By the time the words left his mouth, Archaea’s arms were wrapped firmly around Sigrid’s waist, and Sigrid’s were returning the gesture around her upper back.

“--or have you met?”

“We met before Sigrid is so cool we disassembled a Thug and she showed me how to use a laser cutter and she is the one who gave me my toolbox and… Sorry!”

“I helped her get set up on her first day, yeah”, Sigrid supplied before turning to Archaea. “Fancy running into you today. You enjoying yourself? What have you got for me?”

Archaea released the hug and nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah!” She hopped the few feet to the back of the truck in a single bound before pointing to three boxes in turn.

“Bay fourteen gets crates A2,” point, “B4,” point, “and B5!” Another point, and then a pause.

“C-could you help me unload? They are so heavy.”

“Absolutely,” Sigrid responded, very thankful that there was an actual upper limit on how much could be loaded into a single crate. Wear plates could get heavy in a hurry, so spread out over multiple boxes made the actual moving easier. She had to strain to lift the first two boxes.

“Old Bird got you working on her nest then, has she?” came the voice of Snaps as she unloaded. “Probably about time she got a good once-over from someone other than herself. Means she trusts you, you know?”

“Yeah. No pressure, right? Don’t worry, I’ll treat her right. Make sure she’s in top shape before she’s asked to walk back out onto the field again.”

The third almost lifted off by itself. That would be the eye bolts then. Boxes safely on the ground, she watched Archaea clip the belts back in place ready for their next delivery.

“Thanks again Sigrid!” she called out, before giving a quick hug and hopping into the passenger seat. In the driver seat Snaps was looking over the next deliveries as Sigrid walked up.

“Thanks for the speedy delivery, see ya ‘round, both of you.”

“You too, Red,” came the reply from Snaps. He offered his fist once more, and was rewarded with another smooth bump. With that he hit the accelerator and the vehicle drove off to its next delivery. Sigrid turned back to the Nest.

The crane had moved into position overhead, and three lines were dangling in front of the Highlander. Almost ready, just one more ingredient. She opened the lightest of the crates, and took out two of the eye bolts. Hardened material with a loop on the end for the crane to grab on to. They were heavy duty, but then they’d have to be considering what was about to be asked of them. She put them into the pouch hanging from the back of her belt.

One of the lines she hooked onto her harness, the others she made sure were the right height to reach the Nest’s left knee. Then it was just a manner of raising herself to that height too.

She liked being on the side of a ‘Mech, with nothing holding her up but a safety harness and very sure footing. Somehow it made her feel closer to the ‘Mech, better able to appreciate the sheer difference in scale between her and the Highlander, and yet knowing precisely how to make it do exactly what she wanted it to.

She found herself face-to-face with the enormous knee joint of the titan, and sidled to the side. Here she found a single red arrow pointing towards one of the identical-seeming bolts. She undid it.

Sometimes the things that impressed her most about ‘Mech design weren’t the mighty weapons, or the powerful myomer actuators, or the centimeters of highly engineered armor. It was the simple things.

Things like the linkage connected to this bolt hole. She took the eye bolt out of her pouch and threaded it in. It was several times longer than the one she had taken out, and for good reason. Deep inside the knee joint was a linkage that served no purpose when the ‘Mech was in operation, so it was detached. But for a MechTech, it was one of the more important pieces of mechanism. She hooked up the crane to this eye.

She moved around the other side, and found another red arrow. The other eye bolt was inserted here, and she hooked it up to the crane’s other strap. Then she lowered herself back down to the ground.

As she instructed the crane to tension, she heard a clunk as the mechanism engaged in the ceiling of the cavern. Then another chunk as a mechanism that had lain dormant in the Highlander’s knee activated, transferring the full load of the mighty machine to the other leg as the knee lifted, slowly taking the ankle with it.

She kept a close eye on it, making sure that the sole of the foot never left the ground. She needed just enough clearance to unload the ankle joint.

And stop.

The motors in the crane ceased their movement, but still held the knee just ever so slightly bent. The Nest looked nearly the same, but Sigrid knew she was now balanced on just her right leg. It was time to verify some findings.

She hopped back onto the giant foot in front of her, and then into the cavity. It felt different in a way that was hard to quantify, now that the weight was off. Here she could see the ankle joint, the adjustment screw, and the center she ran her fingers over earlier. She ran them across the surface again. This time they did not get stuck, and there were no imperfections she hadn’t felt earlier.

She turned her attention to the adjustment bolt and undid it as far as it could go, spreading the parts further and further apart until she could access where the massive ankle joint met the foot. What she found was exactly what she expected to see, but no less awe-inspiring.

The wear plates had been worn to be no thicker than a sheet of paper at the edges. She grabbed one to remove it and it crumbled where her fingers touched it, ground down over time by the movement of the ‘Mech. Every step, every turn, every Burial was another millimeter worn away, until all that was left crumbled at her touch.

She shifted her grip, slowly working her way through the crumbling section until she hit something solid. With a gentle tap from her hammer she shifted the plate loose from where it was hanging on. Lifting it out and into the light, she could see the lines where it had rubbed against the ankle joint, again and again and again, until both surfaces were worn away.

They did their job well, and now it was time to retire.

She tapped the upper plate with her hammer, and it fell into the lower plate’s cradle, looking just as thin, especially around the heaviest wear spots. She made sure to clean the area of any debris and shavings before resting the worn-down sections in the crate, taking the fresh ones out.

The difference in weight and size was incredible - she could wield the old ones with a single hand, but needed both of her hands to carry the new ones into position. She started with the top plate, propping it up in the lower cradle and tapping it into place with her hammer. When she was satisfied it wouldn’t fall down, she retrieved the lower plate. It was a lot easier to install, letting gravity do most of the setting.

Then she turned her attention once more to the adjustment bolt. Both fresh wear plates now in place, she was able to start tightening it again. It hit its mark with almost alarming speed, showing her just how far down the plates had worn.

She checked if she had her tools before extracting herself from the foot. A place for everything, and everything in its place. That place was not in the left foot of the Old Bird’s Nest.

Once satisfied, she lowered the crane again, firmly planting the Highlander’s foot on the ground. She felt the two bolts in her pouch and hooked up her harness again. Unhook the crane from the knee, unthread the eye bolts, reinsert the old bolts, and then do it all again.

She put in the move order for the crane and held on tight to the knee. It would move without her, pulling her up slightly as the line stretched across the gap between the ‘Mech’s knees. When it was halfway across, she pushed off. Swinging by the chain, she landed on the other knee and grabbed her handholds. The crane finished its movement shortly after.

Here she repeated the same process, unthread the bolts, thread in the eye bolts, attach the chains, lower herself down. She took off the cover plate for the right foot, and performed the same inspection again. No deformations, no visible cracks or scratches. She ran her fingers across the gap. They did not get stuck. She knew the check was unnecessary, but it wouldn’t be right not to afford this side the same care and attention she did the other.

Only then did she raise the Highlander’s right knee.

The wear plates on the right ankle joint weren’t as thin as the ones on the left, but still had a lot of visible wear. Definitely favored her left leg. It did mean that there was a lot less debris to clear out of the cradles after she removed the wear plates. Still, it paid to be thorough. Metal particles stuck between the plates could wreak havoc on the smoothness of the motion.

It took exactly as many turns of the adjustment bolt to get the left and right joints to their mark, making Sigrid appreciate the standardization even more than usual. She climbed back outside and freed the Old Bird’s Nest from her sling, setting both her feet firmly on the ground.

If everything went well, this meant the next five years of ankle alignment work orders would be a simple matter of turning the adjustment bolt.

One job down, two more to go. But first tidying up; it wouldn’t do to get in her own way. Right knee freed from eye bolts, crane’s chains retracted to the chest of the Highlander, climbing gear stowed away, everything back in her pockets. She found herself on the lift rising up to meet the Nest’s torso plate. Assault ‘Mechs were always so tall, especially the ones with a humanoid body plan. She didn’t think any amount of exposure would acclimate her to this.

No sooner had she finished her thought than she came face-to-face with the scarred armor plate. She ran her fingers across the molten and scratched surface, gliding across the edges of where the holes were, and the deep scratches caused by the glancing blows.

This armor plate was old. Older than her, older than Melissa. Possibly even older than the Clans. It had been there to protect the ‘Mech, to protect the pilots past. And now it had been there to protect her friend.

“Thank you.”

The Nest protects Melissa. The armor protects the Nest. And now she protects the armor.

She took the chains from the ceiling crane and hooked them up to the damaged plate before starting the disconnect process. Thankfully none of the bolts had taken a hit, so one by one they came undone at her touch until only momentum held it in place. She placed her hand once more on the scarred plate and provided the last nudge.

It swung out, suspended by the crane above as she guided it down to the floor to be picked up. She wanted to be sure it got the care and attention it needed, so she walked ahead of the forklift to the machine shop. It arrived with the damaged plate moments after she did.

Standard procedure would be to cut wide around the damaged subpanels to make sure no damaged material remained, but in this case it would be better to cut tight, to make sure no undamaged material was removed. She knew how important it was to Melissa to keep as many of the Nest’s components original as possible.

The removal of the subpanels was slow going. Not quite tedious, but definitely slow. Cut, examine, let the tool sneak up on her marks. Taking her time was worth it, to make sure she could examine the resulting surface. Take too much off at once, and you risk overshooting. So slow, deliberate increments were the order of the day.

As she was chipping away, a strata of paint jobs revealed itself to her. Underneath the SLDF green a brilliant silver, and beyond that it just kept going. Vibrant yellows and blues, muted grays and blacks, a shining white that reminded her of the Word of Blake, but was more likely to be ComStar. And then, all the way at the bottom before the bare metal made itself known, the exact same shade of SLDF green that was at the top. All preserved in this piece of history.

She made sure to set the biggest shards she took off apart, given the historical importance of the component. Likely some in the Clans would appreciate her saving them.

When she was done, nothing remained of the tell-tale scorch marks that indicated laser hits, and the scratches of glancing blows were cleaned of any soot or debris.

Lamellor armor was always tricky to work with due to the layered nature, but at least it wasn’t as messy as HarJel variants. Those always extended the work time by at least a day just to get the gunk off of the tools.

She was thankful for the other ‘Techs on duty today that helped her find appropriate-sized chunks of replacement armor to be shaped into the new sub-panels. Attaching was a slow and repetitive process, but this job demanded nothing less than perfection. With a steady hand she affixed the new panels, filling gaps where needed until only the different colors showed where new replacement panels connected.

The experience in the spray booth was contemplative, like she was adding to history. The color codes of the SLDF’s muted greens were on file and abundant in stock. She had done this before, on the Old Girl, on the Raptor IIs, and would do it many times more. And now it was time for Old Bird’s Nest to take the stand and be supplied with a fresh coat on her torso armor.

Before it could be mounted though, she needed to make sure the underlying components were still in good condition. The walk back to ‘Bay fourteen was a lot more relaxed than the way to the fabrication area. She didn’t have to worry about outpacing a forklift for one, and for another the part of this repair where she was most reliant on others was behind her.

The lift rose again, and she was face to face with the Old Bird’s Nest. Above her the rectangular window of the cockpit loomed, and right in front of her, the internal systems of the mighty ‘Mech were lain bare.

She remembered exactly where the armor had been pierced, and on the components underneath she could see soot marks and molten slag in those exact places. Thankfully only surface problems, the armor had done its job well. The conduits underneath showed no signs of warping or cracks as she ran her hand along each one in turn. For all the advanced diagnostic tools in existence, there would always be a need for a well-trained eye and a gentle touch as part of a MechTech’s repertoire.

The repaired plate was waiting for her on the floor of the ‘Bay, the crane’s chains dangling by the side of the moveable platform and ready to be attached. She lowered the platform and hopped off.

One chain into each attachment point, and with a few taps on her tablet the panel was raised into position by the chest of the ‘Mech. She hopped back onto the platform and followed it.

Attaching it was a simple manner of finding her marks, top left, bottom right, top right, bottom left. Once those were in, she went around the perimeter to attach each bolt in turn until not even a direct impact would shake this panel from where it was. With the final bolt in, she touched the now-dry paint on the freshly installed panel.

“Keep her safe for me.”

She kept her eyes on the panel as the lift took her back down, feeling it slowly transform in her mind from the component she installed, to part of the Old Bird’s Nest. It was always a curious sensation to see something she made be absorbed into a ’Mech, and look like it was always meant to be there.

She shaped it. With her mind and her hands and her experience, she shaped it. And now it was part of a larger whole.

She climbed the ladder up to the center catwalk and sat down on the floor by the workbench. She was dreading this next part. Not because of the work involved, but because she knew how important it was to her. When she closed her eyes she could sometimes see this exact access door, Karrie jumping out as speakers blared and the hellfire that was the plasma created by suborbital insertion licked the hull of the DropShip.

She didn’t want to experience that again. She didn’t want Karrie to have to go through that again.

I will turn this reactor inside out to find the root issue before I allow that to happen again.

The access hatch loomed ahead of her on the left side of the Highlander’s torso. More memories came over her, better times on Terra, lightning scars, focus.

Sigrid closed her eyes. Anger at the injustice, fear at the consequences, duty as a MechTech, care for her friends, protection. They all flashed by her in rapid succession. She needed to focus. Take those feelings, push them aside, and let them power her conviction to see this through. There was work to be done.

She opened her eyes and stood up. Eyes keen, hands steady, she opened the hatch and climbed in. The area inside the torso was at once spacious and cramped, especially for someone her size. Thankfully she didn’t need much room yet. Her full collection of diagnostic tools consisted of a flashlight, a trained pair of eyes, and a sensitive set of fingers. The reactor was ahead, dormant and cool.

The sensor alignment on left side #3 magneto array on the reactor. That was what Karrie was in here to fix. It was a good place to start. She bent down and took a look at the adjustment mechanism. There were no tool marks, no impact marks, nothing that would indicate why it would suddenly move.

Maybe it wasn’t the sensor that had moved. Maybe it was what it was measuring. She let her hand rest on the housing for the adjustment mechanism, careful not to touch the screws themselves. It helped her think, and be more connected to the ‘Mech.

What was it measuring? That would be the timing for the plasma peak inside the housing. But it needed to be precise, and aligned exactly with the location of the peak. What would shift the peak? Internal forces, either positive or negative pressure.

She traced her hand over the labyrinth of pipes, slowly moving up the reactor housing. What would influence the pressure? The release valves. Each magneto array had three of them, calibrated to stagger their releases irregularly to prevent resonance from occurring and…

Shifting the peaks.

She stood up, tracing the pipes further and further up to the maze that was the reactor’s crown; a tangle of pipes and bolts dancing across the central structure. Chaos to an observer, poetry in geometry to a MechTech. A loose crown bolt could offset the stagger just enough to cause a cascade. She ran her hands across the circle of them, while her eyes focused on finding the one for the #3 array. Both found their mark at the same time.

There was a small, barely perceivable sound as her hand brushed the bolt. She could feel it more than hear it, but it was loose. Just ever so slightly. She took her spanner, adjusted it to the correct size and slid it over the bolt easily. A small turn later, and it was seated tightly.

A thought at the back of her mind drew her attention.

It cannot be that easy.

MechTechs have worked on this machine before. So many talented ‘Techs, the best the Inner Sphere and the Clans alike have to offer. It cannot be that simple.

She ran her hands across the bolts again, this time focusing not on identifying them, but identifying differences. And the #3 one was different. Something deeper was amiss here. Bolts get replaced all the time, as they wear out, as they get lost in rebuilds, but that’s not a problem. They’re standardized. Identical. Made to the same specifications each and every time. So why was this one different?

She took her spanner again, and unthreaded the #3 bolt. It looked exactly like how she expected it. The weight felt correct, the thread felt correct. There was some thread locker on it. The high temperature version. With the bolt in her hand, she exited the access hatch and moved over to the workbench. When all else fails, measure and inspect. The bolt was marked with its size, manufacturing date, and producing factory. She took out a set of thread gauges and found the correct one to test the bolt. It slotted in perfectly. No wiggle room, no imperfections. This was as standard a bolt as could be found. So why was it the only loose one?

She went back into the hatch, and climbed onto the reactor crown. Was there something wrong with the bolt hole? Her flashlight revealed no obvious damage, no wear marks, no cracks. Nothing. But then she saw the other bolts. Same information. Size was identical, but the manufacturing date was old. Very old. These were from when the reactor was produced. Originally produced. Before the Exodus.

She didn’t want to disrupt the working parts of the reactor, but removing and reinserting a crown bolt should be part of regular maintenance. She took the #2 out, and went back to her workbench. Somewhere she feared she was just making the difference up, but the tread gauge confirmed it. It moved ever so slightly, and holding it against the light she could see the miniscule gaps.

Shit

There were many possible implications of this, and none of them good. She had her first answer though, and that meant she needed help. She put the bolts, both the ‘new’ to-spec one and the old one in her pocket, and started on the long walk towards the machine shop.

The trip was enough time for her to clear her head, come up with a plan, maybe think on what she found. But it wasn’t long enough to finish thinking, as she soon found herself face-to-face with the door leading to the shop. She stepped in and looked around. She hadn’t had the time to look at today’s schedule yet.

“Kirsty, good to see you on shift today! Got a minute?” she called out.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“What would you say this is?” She handed the machinist the older bolt she took out of the reactor.

“Standard sized bolt, manufactured on Terra in… is that correct? Where did you get this?”

“Old Bird’s Nest, reactor’s left side #2 crown bolt. And you’d think so, wouldn’t you?” She handed her the thread gauge.

It was interesting to see Kirsty’s face go from self-assuredness to confusion to comprehension to a wide-eyed stare back at Sigrid. “What is this?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Thread gauge is good, by the way. Here’s a newer bolt.” The #3 bolt changed hands. “So I’ve got two things I need. One, is I need one made to this specification. You’re one of the best machinists on this drop so if anyone can do it, it’d be you. The second, is I know you’re also very well-connected. I need to find out what happened to cause the drift. I don’t believe the original SLDF was sloppy with their precision.”

“Yeah, you… yeah.” was all Kirsty could say. “Machining is going to be an absolute bitch though. Do you have at least enough time for me to get… three or four setups for this?”

“I do. Nest’s not due for deployment for another day or so. Can you send ‘em over to ‘Bay fourteen?”

“You got it, chief. And once I find out more, I’ll let you know too!”

“You’re the best, K. In so many ways!”

And with that, she walked back to her Bay. She knew enough about machining that she understood what she was asking. Thread cutting happened in increments - cutting a thread precisely in between those increments? That required an incredibly skilled machinist. Kirsty was one. She would pull this off.

Meanwhile Sigrid would entertain herself by updating the maintenance log. When she arrived at her Bay, she hopped onto the foot of the Highlander, like she did this morning. But this time, she made herself a comfortable seat around the ankle joint and detached her tablet from her wrist. She pulled up the maintenance log. Filling it out while she was waiting for parts was a good use of time.

She realized it was taking its time to load, which gave her a moment to contemplate. For some ‘Mechs, filling in the work log was a formality. Like Death Knell. She knew the logs would be scrubbed before long, just like it was scrubbed of anything else identifying.

For The Old Bird’s Nest though? It was a ceremony. There would be a list of some of the best MechTechs around, going back to when Melissa first acquired her. When currently Commanding General Hazen first acquired her. And she’d be adding her name to that long list. The log finally loaded and displayed its first entry. Right there, she was expecting; final prep before delivering to commander Hazen.

And then she looked again.

Jun 2766 T MacEvan: Final prep for delivery to cdr. Hazen. …

This was… not Melissa.

This was Elizabeth.

Part of her wanted to probe deeper. Wanted to know which part of the ‘Mech had originally belonged to her. Wanted to know everything. It could have been the reactor, it could have been a single control panel in the cockpit. In the end, it didn’t matter.

The ‘jump to current’ button lit up in the corner of the screen. She thoroughly ignored it and gave the list a flick.

Name after name scrolled by, engineers, MechTechs, names of historical figures. Military units, mercenary companies, every service performed on every single part of this ‘Mech contained here within her tablet.

She sat there for minutes, just scrolling through the list, taking in all the names. Many she didn’t recognize, some she did. Each of them at the top of their field. Every entry telling a story. She spotted two engineers performing calibrations at each other. She spotted Y. Virtanen changing to Y. Virtanen-Murad. She spotted the #3 left magneto array sensor starting to need calibration after the crown bolt was replaced following a rough battle. She considered the gravity of what she did. What she was about to do.

She reached the bottom of the list.

… Sep 3153 M Hazen: Calibrate IFF signature registry Oct 3153 M Hazen: Realign L. ankle joint Oct 3153 M Hazen: Realign #3 L. reactor magneto sensor Oct 3153 K DeLacey: Realign #3 L. reactor magneto sensor (I filled this out for you, please verify when you have the chance? -Sigrid) Oct 3153 S Guntran: Replace L. ankle wear plates Oct 3153 S Guntran: Replace R. ankle wear plates Oct 3153 S Guntran: Realign L. ankle joint Oct 3153 S Guntran: Realign R. ankle joint Oct 3153 S Guntran: Replace torso armor Oct 3153 S Guntran: Replace L. reactor crown bolt #3_

Her name was on here now. Added into the story - into the history - of this ‘Mech. Forever part of not just the Old Bird’s Nest, but the SLDF.

An approaching electric truck caught her attention, Snaps waving as he got closer, Archaea sitting quietly in the passenger seat until the flatbed came to a stop by her Bay and she stepped out to untie a container.

He was the first to speak up. “What in the hell did you have Kirsty make? I swear I’ve never seen her so excited to make something or this creative in her cursing.”

Sigrid grinned knowingly. “SLDF standard bolt.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Okay okay, bit more to it than that, I think she’d have to recalibrate her entire setup twice over to make this thing. They in there?”

“Yeah. Plus a note.”

Archaea finished unloading the crate and silently clipped the retaining straps back down.

“Yelling might’ve gotten to her,” he supplied.

Sigrid walked over, and saw Archaea flinch as she approached. She opened her arms in the offer for a hug. Archaea took her up on it, burying her face in her coveralls. She didn’t need to say anything for Sigrid to know. She knew what it was like.

“You good soloing the next few deliveries, Snaps? I think a moment would do her good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I got this.”

She looked down at the top of Archaea’s head. “What do you think? Would you like to stay here for a bit?” The midnight black crown of hair nodded slightly, still pressed tightly against her.

She let go with one hand and waved to Snaps as he accelerated, then turned her attention back to Archaea.

“It’s okay, let’s go sit by the foot. I’ve got some water, and I think it’s time for lunch anyway.”

The walk to the foot of the Highlander was slow, but that was okay. Sigrid picked a spot on the wall-side of the ‘Bay, out of view of everything. Times like this didn’t need rushing, they needed care. Archaea didn’t extract her head from Sigrid’s coveralls for the walk, nor for the slow descent into sitting on the floor. She wasn’t crying, but it looked like she was just tired of the world for now. Sigrid knew the feeling well.

She sheltered Archaea from the world, providing soft comfort, and big arms to wrap her up and hold her, until she was ready to face existence again. The first sign this was happening was a small voice coming from her side.

“You’re still really warm.”

She smiled at that, giving a gentle squeeze. “Must be the crawling around in the reactor core.”

She released the squeeze, giving Archaea a chance to peek her head out. “Takes a lot of fuel though. Would you like pancakes?”

At this her head detached from Sigrid’s coveralls. “Pancakes?”

“Yeah, Karrie made ‘em fresh this morning! Even got syrup this time. Would you like some?”

There was a frantic nod from her side, and at that signal she pulled her toolchest closer. In it was a bundle of grease paper, a carefully-wrapped fork, and a sachet of syrup. It made Sigrid feel safe.

The pancakes were room temperature, no longer as hot as when they were fresh. But they somehow made her feel warm inside anyway. She hoped Archaea could feel the same.

From how quickly she was eating, they definitely made her feel like more. This was good, Karrie had made a lot of them.

Archaea looked like she was feeling a little better. No longer as quiet and… still, as she was when she delivered the crates. More comfortable taking up space again.

“Looks like you needed that. Feeling a bit better?”

“Yeah, I-... Thank you Sigrid. You’re a good friend.”

“Takes one to know one,” she replied. “Ready to face the Lab again?”

Archaea nodded, and they got up together. No longer fully attached by force of hug, but enough that they moved in unison. As they rounded the corner of the foot, the quiet hum of an electric flatbed made itself known. Archaea waved at it as it approached.

When Snaps stopped, he smiled. “Feeling a bit better Kid?”

“Yeah, Sigrid is the best she knew a quiet spot so I could rest and she had pancakes and we talked about... Sorry!”

Snaps’ grin broadened at that. “Glad to hear it, you ready for the next few? I picked up a shiny new set of crates.”

Archaea gave Sigrid a last hug before dashing off again and hopping into the passenger seat. She fastened her seatbelt and nodded enthusiastically.

“Off we go then. Thanks again Red!”

Sigrid waved at them as they drove off before turning her attention to the freshly delivered crate. Opening the lid, she spotted three bolts and a note.

Dear Sigrid, 1) Fuck you, you know how much of an ass it was to precisely machine a bolt 0%<x<1% out of spec in every single dimension? 2) I could kiss you right now, that was the most fun I had on this drop! I had to use every trick I know to pull this off but I’m awesome so I made it happen! Got you a spare too. 3) I don’t know if you know how big a deal it is that you found this, but if this is what I think it is you are going to get so much writing credit. So. Much. 4) If you see the Old Bird, tell her I said ‘hi’ and that I haven’t forgotten. Love, Kirsty

The bolts looked identical to each other, save for the markings. One had the original markings from Terra, the other two bore the current year and the DropShip machine shop. The sizing information had the addition of -SGu. Probably a good idea to differentiate them from the in-spec sizing with the same name.

She climbed up to the catwalk, and crawled back into the access hatch on the Highlander’s left torso. Through the maze of pipes, to the reactor, up to the crown. She made a mental note of how the #2 bolt felt when it went down, and was very satisfied when the #3 felt identical. No more loose threads, no more slight wiggle. She tightened both of them down.

All that was left now was to re-re-recalibrate the sensor. That was a job best done with two people though, the running back and forth between the cockpit and the reactor would get very tedious otherwise. That left just a single part of this work order left to do, a general systems check.

She extracted herself from the torso, and closed the door. She touched her hand to the latch and gave it a push. The sensation helped cement in her mind that she had in fact closed it. No more cause to worry.

She climbed the ladder to the top catwalk, and climbed onto the Nest’s shoulder. The cockpit was locked with a softkey, and Melissa had trusted her enough to provide her with one. She knew how much that meant. Probably four people in the galaxy had one.

She tapped it and listened for the soft beep and the even softer click that unlocked the cockpit as it was accepted. She closed it behind her and sat down in the pilot’s seat. Four people. Only four people in the entire galaxy had ever seen this cockpit, as it was right now. The Old Bird’s Nest.

This was as close to Melissa’s sanctum as anything could be, she doubted even her own bedroom held more significance to her. Every single console, every adjustment of the seat, the exact ergonomics were tailored to her specifically. If she closed her eyes, Sigrid could almost imagine her sitting here, hands on the controls, talons grasping the specially designed pedals.

Her fingers danced through the startup procedure. Screens lit up with diagnostic information, performing self-tests on all the systems it could access. Panels lit up, warning lights illuminating and dimming as every system was checked. The systems beneath the damaged chest plate passed their tests, as did the ankle actuators.

Her helmet wasn’t plugged in, so the Highlander wouldn’t be able to move. Even if she was plugged in, she knew Melissa would have the controls locked. Still, when performing a full reactor startup, procedures were there for a reason. Sigrid paused and keyed the radio transceiver on the control panel in front of her.

“Bay Control, this is Sigrid Guntran, piloting Highlander ‘Old Bird’s Nest’ in MechBay fourteen. Requesting clearance for reactor test cycle startup. How copy?”

The response came almost immediately.

“‘Old Bird’s Nest’, Bay Control. Cleared for reactor test cycle startup in thirty seconds.”

“Bay Control, ‘Old Bird’s Nest’. Starting reactor test cycle in thirty seconds.”

Sigrid waited. Overhead a warning light switched on to alert anyone working in the area that a full ‘Mech powerup was about to happen. The thirty seconds would give them the time they needed to clear the immediate area. Sigrid suspected there wasn’t anyone there, but acting on suspicions like that without verifying is what got people hurt.

When the timer ticked down, her fingers resumed their dance. The shrill whine of the auxiliary generator was replaced with the thrum of the main one. Diagnostics danced over her screen. If her fix behaved as expected, the reactor should supply only three quarters of its rated power. The thrum became louder, until the full potential was reached. At almost exactly 75%. The only thing that remained was recalibrating the now-offset #3 magneto array sensor with Karrie or Melissa. One in the cockpit to monitor output, the other to make the actual adjustments. Those would have to wait until one of them was available.

She powered down the systems again, watching each component return to cold and dark until only a single screen was illuminated. It displayed a message:

Playing audio file MHazen_HelloSigrid

And then it too went dark. Before she could question what that was, Melissa’s voice filled the cockpit.

“Sigrid. I know you are working right now, and I would have liked to tell you this in person... but things have gotten in the way. I wanted to say that to have you working on my 'Mech… I appreciate it. Truly. You and Karrie are the two Techs I trust with her. So thank you. Oh, and there is a further message for both you and Karrie, so share it with her, will you, Sigrid?"

On the dashboard ahead was a small data chip plugged into the command and control interface. Melissa had mentioned this before; it used to be mounted in an Orion. Kerensky’s Orion. She reached out and detached the chip, trying and failing to not consider the weight of what she did today.

She worked on the command ‘Mech for the entire SLDF. She worked on equipment older than the Clans. She requisitioned custom-machined parts to address an issue that had been overlooked for decades.

She added her name to the log of people who came before, the best in their field. She received a vote of confidence from Melissa Hazen. Her, Sigrid. From a little town outside Naragajan.

She turned the chip over in her hand, wrist resting on the console. Kerensky’s console. Now Melissa’s.

She considered that maybe. Just maybe.

She actually was good enough.

#battletech #mechwarrior #story event #operation touchdown #(ooc: oh y'all are gonna LOVE this!)#(oh this was so fun to help work on!)

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