#laser actuator

[sw5w]

Triple Quad Turbolasers

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:53:48

[mx-anthropy]

I saw a few people saying don't trust mech repair shops that are clean, and that you gotta go to the ones that are dirty and have crap everywhere 'cause they'll do a proper job and fix your rig cheaper and better.

While I agree in general, it's an even better sign if that shop has that *one* bay and workbench area that is conspicuously clean. Every good workshop has *that bay*.

That's the bay for when they need to go cleanroom on something. Pulling and refurbishing laser arrays, injection pumps, etc. Manually recalibrating gyros. Re-valving joint dampers. Fabbing up "custom" bracketry to fit that aftermarket heat exchanger that's *supposed* to be a direct bolt on OE style replacement and you just *know* it's not going to be that simple cause it never is, but the efficiency is so much better than the factory crap and who the hell wants to pay for a new genuine exchanger anyway, if you can even get one?

The number of absolute cowboy techs I've seen that think that just because they've done a bunch of work on their pa's agricultural mechs for years, they know everything there is to know about mech internals, strip down and reassemble a combat-rated set of hand actuators literally just on the god damned shop floor, only to wonder why all the hydraulics piss fluid out as soon as they run it through a test cycle. They might *look* the same as pappy's mech actuators, but they have way tighter tolerances and they run *way* thinner fluids in them. You get so much as a nick in the sealing surface of one of those rods and it's not gonna seal again. And before any goobers come for me saying "JuSt RuN tHiCkEr OiL" if you put anything thicker than 2W-5 in those things they'll just lock up. Won't leak but you'll not be using that hand for anything but karate chopping your opposition.

Anyway rant over, TLDR next time your stompy death machine needs actual proper work done, and not just entire unit assemblies throwm at the problem, take it somewhere that actually cares to understand the concept of machined tolerances.

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

Regent "Justicar" - 3153 iteration

Regent 'Justicar'

Mass: 90 tons Chassis: Reynard Standard Type Power Plant: GM 270 Cruising Speed: 32.4 kph Maximum Speed: 54 kph Jump Jets: None Jump Capacity: 0 meters Armor: Durallex Heavy Special Armament: 49.5 tons of pod space Manufacturer: CSF Project Reynard with Coventry Metal Works and Technicron Manufacturing Primary Factory: Coventry, Savannah Communication System: MegaBand System 21 Targeting & Tracking System: Dtrac Suite 4 Introduction Year: 3153 Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-X-X Cost: 18,051,188 C-bills

Type: Regent Technology Base: Mixed (Unofficial) Tonnage: 90 Battle Value: 2,240

Equipment Mass Internal Structure Composite 4.5 Engine 270 Fusion 14.5 Walking MP: 3 Running MP: 5 Jumping MP: 0 Double Heat Sink 20 [40] 10 XL Gyro 1.5 Small Cockpit 2 Armor Factor 279 17.5 Internal Armor Structure Value Head 3 9 Center Torso 29 44 Center Torso (rear) 14 R/L Torso 19 29 R/L Torso (rear) 9 R/L Arm 15 30 R/L Leg 19 38

Weight and Space Allocation Location Fixed Space Remaining Head None 2 Center Torso None 0 Right Torso None 12 Left Torso None 12 Right Arm None 9 Left Arm None 9 Right Leg None 2 Left Leg None 2

Right Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm Left Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm

Weapons and Ammo Location Critical Heat Tonnage Double Heat Sink LL 2 - 1.0 LAC/20 RT 6 7 9.0 ER Large Laser RT 1 12 4.0 ECM Suite RT 1 - 1.0 Double Heat Sink RT 2 - 1.0 Light Active Probe RT 1 - 0.5 Flail LA 4 - 5.0 Medium Pulse Laser LA 1 4 2.0 Double Heat Sink LA 2 - 1.0 CASE II LT 1 - 0.5 ER Large Laser LT 1 12 4.0 Streak SRM 4 LT 1 3 2.0 3 Double Heat Sink LT 6 - 3.0 Caseless LAC/20 Ammo (20) LT 2 - 2.0 Streak SRM 4 Ammo (25) LT 1 - 1.0 Double Heat Sink RL 2 - 1.0 Armored Cowl (Armored) HD 1 - 1.0 Micro Pulse Laser HD 1 1 0.5 ER Large Laser RA 1 12 4.0 Medium Pulse Laser RA 1 4 2.0 3 Double Heat Sink RA 6 - 3.0

Features the following design quirks: Accurate Weapon (all), Battle Computer, Barrel Fists (LA), Battle Fists (LA), Combat Computer, Cowl, Easy to Maintain, Easy to Pilot, Improved Communications, Improved Cooling Jacket (all), Improved Sensors, Multi-Trac, Variable Range Targeting, Vestigial Hand (LA)

[wolf-among-mechs]

WLF-Xb-KNT Wolf Knight

Description:

The WLF-Xb-KNT Wolf Knight is highly specialised one of a kind mech made from primarily the chassis of a Black Knight and a number of parts from a Battlemaster. Made to the whims of a mechwarrior with a strange idea with some mechtech experience, the Wolf Knight was constructed allegedly from a dream, that was then committed to paper, explored and executed. Its primary purpose is to be an upgraded Black Knight with heavier armour, jump jets and extensive re-engineering of the Black Knights interior and sensor suite. The interior was remade to fit a powerful Extra-Light engine. The chassis and frame was remodeled extensively and changing to a more common frame model of pieces of changed BL-7-KNT Black Knight pieces and that of a BLR-1G Battlemaster. Despite its Frankenmech design, the focus on off the shelf parts allows the Wolf Knight an ease of access for repairs and maintenance to a surprising degree despite the heavy modifications. The most taxing parts are its dual Myomer and servo system and the cockpit to sensor connections. The refit process documented the notes of these two extensively but nevertheless requires a very qualified engineer to repair and maintain. It makes extensive use of Triple Strength Myomers that run through the mech coupled with finely and highly tuned actuators, calibrated after the pilot's movements, the Wolf Knight can swing the great blade's motions in its hand with tilts, flicks and even whips in its attacks. This is made possible with a secondary Myomer system that works on tandem with the more powerful one, giving increased agility and precision. Lastly this secondary Myomer system is backed up and tied into an integrated hydraulic servo system with the fibres themselves attached to limit switches for a natural pullback and resistance. The practical nature or battlefield application was contentious even by the refitting engineers but it was found difficult to argue against the one placing the order. One of its most curious features and the namesake is the re-engieering of the sensor suite of the Black Knight. It uses similar principles as the originals Beagle Active Probe system which uses the small laser to scan. Instead it has a second sensor tower, giving it two "ears" on the Knight helmet. Together with the pilot harness this is called the High Oscilation Wave-Length system or H.O.W.L. for short. It functions by generating pulses and frequencies through the heart rate monitor and neurohelmet's brain wave readings. Which in turn create an algorithm that is impossible to predict or even anticipate for a computer. This forms the basis of the skip-frequencies used in the sensor system in its pulses. The effect shifts the Mech's position by one to two meters between pulses on hostile sensors, slightly distorting the Wolf-Knight position, velocity and direction. Even skilled combatants can be caught unaware of their mech suddenly shifting the targeting to compensate. Leading to glancing shots. However the H.O.W.L. system distorts command and control communication over long distance, forcing it rely on short wave range bands. For this reason, it is usually only active during active combat operations in order to allow for strategic coordination. This, along with the precise movements of the arms is achieved by a specially made cockpit. Rather than the usual joystick configuration, the mechwarrior wears a harness that can mimic arm movements of the pilot. In addition it keeps track of the pilot's vitals and uses these together with the helmet to modify the frequencies of of the sensor suite and probe. The harness is heavy to move and is is wholly integrated with the neurohelmet and cockpit at large and tailored for a single individual and does not interact well with ejections.

Armament:

The Wolf Knight wields a large sword in the right, though functionally is follows the design principles of Fedcom-era hatchets. Otherwise the loadout is very similar to that of a Black Knight. A Lord's Light 2 rather than the royal versions' Kinslaughter ERPPC in the left arm allows for long range sniping with an original Maxell DT medium laser mounted under the main cannon. It is supported by two Magna Mk III large lasers as shoulder cannons along with parts of the housing used for a Rifleman. Instead of the the original torso mounted McCorkel mounted in order to make space for the new internal systems. Using parts and housing from a a Catapult on each side of the torso is a pair of Martell Medium Lasers and Omnicron 1000 Small lasers. Allowing the Wolf Knight to brawl with to a similar degree as a standard Black Knight.

Sixteen Double heat sinks allows the Wolf Knight to remain at range and fight without significant overheating. Once it gets close and pounces with the shorter range lasers it can easily activate the full potential of the Triple Strength Myomer system.

Inside the chest of the Wolf Knight however remains the Beagle Active Probe from which the black knight was noted for carrying. It has been wired to a Ceres Metals model 666 Communication system that connects into the Beagle Active Probe together with the original TransComm Beta targeting system.

The engine is connect to a RedLine-F Series Outland Supercharger system that allows the Wolf Knight to pounce on targets with the blade. Four Chillton model 600 Jump jets give it an extra level of mobility. However the XL is a weak point in long engagements where endurance becomes the dominating factor as a single torso side being blown apart would stall the engine.

Made in blender by kitbashing a number of things together.

[boinkingbattlemechs]

Crusader

The Crusader was initially designed as a close combat BattleMech for the Star League Defense Force, but soon proved itself to be a very adaptable, multirole design. This reliable workhorse of the SLDF, while not excelling in any one job, was quite capable of accomplishing just about any mission, whether it be close assault, anti-aircraft defense, counterinsurgency, or even reconnaissance. Its versatility and large number of manufacturers ensured the Crusader its place as one of the most common heavy 'Mechs in the Inner Sphere.

The Crusader received its baptism of fire during the Reunification War and remained a common fixture in the regiments of the SLDF for many centuries. Even after the fall of the Star League, the various Successor States continued to field large numbers of Crusaders in their armies, thanks to factories located on Tharkad, Oliver, Asuncion and Bernardo. House Steiner in particular was a notable Crusader user, thanks in part to their well-trained technicians who could have damaged units turned around and ready to fight in a single day. A variety of new production variants and field modification kits were turned out for the Crusader after the recovery of the Helm Memory Core, just in time for the Clan Invasion.

In the wake of the Clan Invasion, one of the first new Crusader variants was built by the Cosby BattleMech Research Firm, the (in)famous producer of the No-Dachi 'Mech. Hoping to overcome the lack of prestige of their previous design and win the favor of the Coordinator, the company acquired manufacturing rights to the Crusader through the hostile takeover of another company and unveiled an updated variant of the 'Mech around the start of the FedCom Civil War. Additional variants would continue to be produced in the years since, including models utilized by the Word of Blake during the Jihad.

The primary long-range weapons on the Crusader were two Magna Longbow-15 LRM-15 launchers, providing the Crusader with long-range fire support capabilities that can compete with the Archer and Catapult. These were supplied by two tons of reloads split between the side torsos. For short-range combat, the 'Mech carried two Harpoon-6 SRM-6 launchers and two Intek medium lasers. Finally, to deter infantry attacks against the Crusader, two M100 Heavy machine guns were mounted on the 'Mech. One ton each of SRM and machine gun ammunition was carried in the center torso.

Each arm was equipped with an LRM launcher, laser, and machine gun, while the SRM launchers were built into the legs and mounted at hip height to provide a stable firing location and avoid interference with the LRMs' flight path. Early Crusader models had issues with the arm-mounted launchers and lasers overheating and causing stress to the actuators and internal structure, but this was rectified with the additions of the now-distinctive collars which deflect hot gases away.

The Crusader was well-protected with twelve tons of armor, particularly around the legs, which made it a good hand-to-hand combatant. A thirteen and a half ton fusion engine allowed the Crusader to achieve a decent cruising speed of 43.2 km/h. One disadvantage to the Crusader was its inadequate heat management system, carrying just ten standard heat sinks to handle all the waste heat produced by its weapons and equipment.

[professionalscrublord]

Rainbow Six (ft. Black Knight)

Finally finished painting the mechs I magnetized with torso-twist actuators (the things that aren't represented on any record sheets :P) I couldn't decide on a unit color for these 7 mechs so I just did every color. I imagine they're a multi-national counter-terrorist Mechwarrior unit. Red, Yellow, Green, Blue, and Purple would evidently be the five Great Houses, so that leaves Orange and Black. Let me know if you have suggestions for who those might be. (Clan Wolf? ROM?)

Individual shots:

King Crab KGC-010

Cut off the LL and sculpted on flush-mount PPCs, nested in SRM-6 shrouds, and extra cooling vanes out the back. The red ink pooled up in a weird way in some spots which I'd like to avoid next time, but overall I like the color. Magma basing.

Axman AXM-1N

Extra action-figure arm ax-tuator for hot choppy-choppy action. I thought about magnetizing the full-head ejection too just for lulz but decided it would be too hard to cut under it for removal. Rocky desert basing.

Bushwacker BSW-X1

I cut off the LRM-5 pod from the LT and sculpted on a classic X-shaped one a la Mechwarrior 3. The old triangular one is being repurposed for a ground turret. The yellow looks a little green-brown IMO but I'm aware of how hard it is to make good yellow pigments, it works for a dirty look. Especially with the way the ink pooled into a burnt-looking brownish color in spots. Happy little accidents. Sandy desert basing, I added wash around the outside of the hexagon then dripped water into the middle to push the wash back out into a circular distribution.

Highlander HGN-732

Lush vegetation basing. Some rocks under the grass flock, and some green ink soaked in around the edges to give it some depth. The base got super hot because of how quickly the glue dried when soaking into the sponge-like grass flecks. Exothermic reaction, yeah, Science!

Nightstar NSR-9J

The blue color came through great. Silver primer, blue speedpaint ink, dark wash, and a gloss varnish ontop, adding up to a delicious candy-coat look. Yum. Marsh/wetlands basing.

Exterminator EXT-4D

The previous colors were all a single speedpaint color over metallic silver, but as I didn't have purple ink I mixed red+blue for this one. The color came out a lil muddy, not quite as bold as the others when mixed IMO, but at least it's still purple. Volcanic glass basing.

Black Knight BL-9-KNT

Moved the stock BL-6-KNT's head laser to CT and sculpted axe from scratch to create the BL-9. I felt the plain brown gravel basing looked close enough to where he was standing in the movie already.

"It's just a flesh wound!"

[karriethemechtech]

Sabretooth SB2-RT

Mass: 100 tons Chassis: Earthwerks AS IV Power Plant: Vlar 300 Cruising Speed: 32.4 kph Maximum Speed: 64.8 kph Jump Jets: None Jump Capacity: 0 meters Armor: Hellespont Lite Armament: 2 ER PPC 5 Medium Pulse Laser Manufacturer: Majesty Metals and Manufacturing Primary Factory: Unknown Communication System: Tek BattleCom Targeting & Tracking System: Tek Tru-Trak Introduction Year: 3146 Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-X-D Cost: 16,031,000 C-bills

Overview Proposed as part of Project: BIG CAT for the Magistracy of Canopus, the Sabretooth was designed by Majesty Metals and Manufacturing in 3146 as a hardy, brutally effective brawler.

Capabilities The Sabretooth was the most troubled of the three BIG CAT designs; early drafts were unfocused and confused messes; months of prototyping went into fitting all of the necessary components onto the frame. To accomodate the bulk of all of the components, Endo Steel was escewed in favor of more traditional materials. The 'Mech is armed with two Clan-spec ERPPCs for long range, mysteriously supplied in the same way as the Yaguara's large lasers. For closer ranges, the machine mounts five medium pulse lasers, all across the top half of the 'Mech, as well as two massive claws. These giant blades are capable of decapitating a mech in a single swipe, making the Sabretooth a terrifying force up close.

Deployment The Sabretooth is used among the Magistracy Armed Forces in much the same manner as an Atlas--find a target, approach, and make that target cease to exist, while shrugging off as much fire as possible. Indeed, the Assault 'Mech's snarling visage is starting to develop a reputation all its own.

Type: Sabretooth Technology Base: Mixed (Standard) Tonnage: 100 Battle Value: 2,547

Equipment Mass Internal Structure 10 Engine 300 Fusion 19 Walking MP: 3 Running MP: 5(6) Jumping MP: 0 Double Heat Sink 18 [36] 8 Gyro 3 Cockpit 3 Armor Factor (Light Ferro) 307 18.5 Internal Armor Structure Value Head 3 9 Center Torso 31 47 Center Torso (rear) 15 R/L Torso 21 32 R/L Torso (rear) 10 R/L Arm 17 34 R/L Leg 21 42

Right Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm Left Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm

Weapons and Ammo Location Critical Heat Tonnage Supercharger CT 1 - 2.0 Medium Pulse Laser RT 1 4 2.0 3 Double Heat Sink RT 9 - 3.0 ER PPC RT 2 15 6.0 Claw LA 7 - 7.0 Medium Pulse Laser LA 1 4 2.0 Medium Pulse Laser LT 1 4 2.0 3 Double Heat Sink LT 9 - 3.0 ER PPC LT 2 15 6.0 Medium Pulse Laser HD 1 4 2.0 Claw RA 7 - 7.0 Medium Pulse Laser RA 1 4 2.0

Features the following design quirks: Distracting, Stable

And here's the final of the three Project: BIG CAT designs! This one has...wow, that's a lot of armor. A LOT of armor. And can swipe your head off in one punch if you're not careful! Yikes. I'm glad I'm on the same side as these things.

[on-a-mechtechnicality]

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.

[chrysalispilled]

hi guys. i got really emotional (i think jealous is a good term. yeaaah) and pumped this out in a half hour. i’m hoping this is a better coping method to cope w my coping method other than just crying about it; which is my usual go to! so! hope u guys r doing wonderfully <33

Sky-Spider was growing to despise the Society.

First they mistreat her friends, kicking them out for just being themselves- Sure, they liked to start shit, but who was Mr. O’Hara to downright ban them? He had plastered their pictures around like wanted posters, “Earth-138 visits PROHIBITED” scrawled below their smug faces. There were already versions of Felicia Hardy in the HQ, so why would the one dating a Spider be ushered out like an animal?

She had to shove through other Spiders to get to the wing she had in mind, leaping off the tyrannosaurus, pushing past a few Peters. The HQ was almost labyrinthine, pillars of steel jutting out from each and every wall. Normally, she’d practically struggle to find her way through, but not today.

She refused to talk to Miguel civilly about this. Not after he apprehended her lover.

The prison wing, a much darker hall with a void of a ceiling, full from wall to wall with vibrant laser walled compartments and cells. Although, for as intimidating as the mistreatment was, the machine the semi-circular wing led to was far more daunting. The arachnoid structure was the least of her worries.

Swinging in was like ramming into a theater screen, sharp gold walls hiding far more colorful villains from all walks of life. They were like bugs encased in amber, reduced to nothing more than nuisances to be fed to a beast and disposed to their former universes. A few goblins sneered at her entry, roars from sandy masses and men mixed with beasts shake her to her core. It wasn’t just fear, though, as for the past year a sense of pity had crept its way into her work as Sky-Spider. Some of the prisoners are caught up in heated debates with other Spiders, some were asleep, some were distant and unresponsive.

She can’t show weakness here, at least not yet, especially since the whole place was monitored. The bright halls made her head spin, until she found the criminal she was looking for.

“Liv!” Sky-Spider called, one hand rising to tear off her mask by the feather adorning it. Her other one pushes up to one of the walls, causing it to pulse like a broken TV screen. Olivia had turned her head at the sound of the other woman’s voice, her eyes widening at the sight. She looked so, so tired- Much more tired than she ever was when overworking herself at Alchemax, or when they were still fighting. The light of the lasers cast her in a ghastly light, the lines on her face that Sky had so reverently worshipped looking more like deep carvings in stone as she was wracked in worry.

“Oh, Luce-“ The doctor chuckles breathlessly, shifting where she sat as the actuators surrounding her slithered to the other side. She looked quite cramped, stuck curled into a ball and barely able to hold her own hand up to the wall. A weak smile spread across her lips, but Lucielle couldn’t smile back yet.

“What did he do to you.. How did he even find you, it was only five minutes!” She sobs out, crouching down to see the older woman more clearly. Sky blamed herself, she was quite good at that, but this time she felt fully accountable for letting a variant of Doctor Octopus know about the Society, let alone letting that woman even see inside.

“Hey, hey,” Olivia advised calmly, “I’m alright, honey, see?” She gestures to herself with her free hand, but her trembling voice and the restless coiling of tentacles did nothing to calm the hero outside the cell.

Lucielle’s brows furrowed, and her nose scrunched with her frustration. “No, no you aren’t!” She leans down to the cold floor, sitting on her knees and calves to more easily move closer. Her eyes, wracked with tears, darted around: to the other cells, over her shoulders, then back to Olivia before settling on her own bulky watch.

Right, the watch! Hobie had upgraded its security capabilities, in return for Lucielle helping him pocket some more materials. She was quietly planning before Olivia butt in once more, trying to downplay the situation.

“Look, we’re on another Earth! You know this is my life’s work, right? There’s a positive to this, I’ve never seen so many variants of a single person in one room ever! Not even in simulations!” Her voice, still shaking, is tinged with sharp enthusiasm. But Sky-Spider just keeps her head low, her heart wrenching in her chest as she types code after code into the small interface on her wrist. Her hands are trembling, and it isn’t easy to type in the gloves, but as Olivia rambles she feels the need to go even quicker. He said it wouldn’t activate the alarms, that she could use it once and that it would only last for ten minutes. Thankfully, she trusted him.

Click!

And a buzz, and the cell’s lasers dissipate as they shift to blue and fade to nothingness, leaving Olivia’s actuators to sprawl out like eels leaving a cramped tank. The villainess has no time to react, however, as her blue suited friend bounds forward into a tight hug. Olivia lets out a quick sound of shock. Her arms and legs are tense, but the tentacles do the work for her, all four pressing up against the Spider as they lie in the marks on the ground that designated the cell. Lucielle breaks into a fit of laughter, clenching her eyes shut as she clings onto the hug like a child who had a nightmare.

The doctor was still surprised, though, her wide eyes flitting across the hall. Sneers and taunts of still trapped villains make her head ring, but one thing snaps her out of it: the racing heartbeat against her own.

“I’ll show you all the worlds… All the worlds you could ever want to see,” Sky stammers, squeezing the hug tighter as the actuators never cease their coiling. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Olivia is still silent, before the warmth encompassing her becomes too much to bear. She stretches out her legs to let the Spider get closer, and smiles weakly. Her arms dip under Lucielle’s.

“I could say the same for you,” She whispers. “Thank you.”

[kineticpenguin]

It ain't easy being a mech maintainer. There's absolutely zero respect for our profession. There's always some token chief engineer or some shit in the stories who somehow singlehandedly works miracles to keep you from questioning how this all works. But it ain't like that. And if I ever see a pilot turn a wrench I'll eat my fucking hat.

Listen, a mech's hands are delicate equipment. Yes, they're heavily armored, like every other fucking part of the goddamn things, but the laws of physics still apply. Which means that every time a pilot brags about how they can crush a tank turret in their fist or pick up an egg without cracking it, it means these things are full of sensors, and wiring, and actuators, and haptic feedback processors and it all has to communicate perfectly with a computer before the right signals are sent to the pilot's jackoff suit. Shit's delicate.

So these fuckers go out, heavily beweaponed with the best anti-armor weaponry known to man, missiles, guns, lasers, you name it.

And they fucking punch each other. With these intricately articulated, sensor-laden, networked hands. And they get mad when they don't work right afterward. I swear, someone oughtta let us just swap out those hands for bowling balls. Or better yet, instead of making us fix these things, we just settle disputes with a game of Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots because it's the same damn thing at this point.

[doolallymagpie]

the fucking face of evil

[chasingstardustandmoonbeams]

Hi! I saw that request were open could you do a Han Solo with “I could kiss you right now” “you’re more than welcome too” thank you if you can!

Wiping the grime off of your forehead you couldn’t help the satisfaction off your face. You’d been working on the Falcons broken down actuators and gas feeds for the last few hours.

“How’s it going?”

You turned to see Han, arms crossed and his usual smirk across his face.

You gave him a wide smile in return while you made your way over to him.

“Perfect actually,” you teased, “Laser cannons are back up and running even better than before.”

“You’re kidding?” Han reached out twirled you around. “Oh, sweetheart I could just kiss you!”

“You’re more than welcome to,” you’d said softly. Not even realizing the words had slipped past you.

Han’s smile only grew more broad. “Now, sweetheart if you wanted a kiss all you had to do was ask.”

Han cupped your chin in his hand, tilting his face towards yours.

“Han?”

“Yeah?” He was a little less sure of himself now the closer your face got to his. His breath hitching ever so slightly as you placed a hand on his chest.

“If you wanted a kiss all you had to was ask,” you whispered, growing more bolder as he lost his confidence.

Your eyes met his, there was something there you hadn’t seen before.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” he mumbled as he closed the gap between you both. A smile present on both your lips.

[cyanocoraxx]

law of 3

cross-posted from ao3

this is gonna be a two-parter! i've been sitting on this thing for MONTHS. I promised someone I would write this specific character and boy did I. enjoy

please read through the main fic, Damage, for context on all of this or you'll be confused

The chamber was quiet. Only the low hum of supportive machinery and flickering of a red light above gave any indication that something might be alive within. Dozens of long-gone Badnik husks were strewn across the floor like iron cadavers, forgotten, rusted. At the centre stood a containment pod, half-shrouded in shade. Condensation traced slow, precise lines down the reinforced glass, catching the sterile red light. Inside, the being shifted, a titan frozen in time. The containment pod hissed. Hydraulic locks disengaged one by one.

Then, the front panel lowered slowly, exhaling hot steam like a sleeping giant finally exhaling. The being within unfurled with inhuman grace - limb by limb, actuator by actuator. Its chrome plating gleamed as its internal systems powered on. A few minutes later, it stood and took its first step into the outside-inside world. The air around it trembled as its fusion drive cycled once, then stabilized.

It looked around - not with the childlike curiosity of its predecessors, but with precision. The dismembered Badniks before it registered as nought more than static. It was not one of them. It could feel the power coursing through its frame. Energy. Control. Power.

Unlike its predecessors, it came into the world alone.

Unlike its predecessors, it did not mind.

"I have more stars than you."

A familiar clang of metal echoed off the warehouse's corrugated walls, the cool air humming faintly with residual machine warmth and the faint scent of oil and paint.

"Liar."

The word was spat out like a playful jab.

"No you!"

"No, you."

"What?"

Neo and Silver both turned to see a small Egg Pawn waddling toward them, its engine whirring quietly, paint chipped and scratched from years of use. This guy needed a makeover soon, Silver noted to himself diligently. He would see to that.

"What are you talking about?" It asked.

Silver grinned, optics gleaming with mischief. "Oh! You don't know about the chores chart? You get stickers when you pitch in around the home, and the 'bot with the most stickers earns... something. And so far, I'm the winner."

"More like weiner." Neo signed, the subtle squeak of his joints audible as he leaned back with a dismissive wave.

"More like the best cleaner! Have you even used your wrist lasers to strip paint from the wall? Wait, you don't have any, sucks to be you."

Neo slapped a star sticker from its sheet on the wall onto Silver's forehead. "Gold star for effort."

Silver pouted at him. "Effort at what? And don't say something sarcastic or mean."

Silver reached up to peel it off but struggled, his blunt fingertips fumbling to catch the slick edges of the shiny sticker. He let his hand fall down to his side and smiled innocently. Neo frowned at him. Silver grinned back. The glint of playful rivalry sparked between them. The next moments involved one 276-pound blue death machine and its younger silver counterpart throwing each other across the warehouse building. Before long, their home was filled with the thunderous thud of metal bodies colliding, the clang and clatter of metal limbs locking and pushing, each impact sending an echo down the long aisles.

The Egg Pawn gawked in silent astonishment as Silver threw Neo against the towering racking, his heavy frame sliding with a sharp scrape and rattle.

Pinned against the metal shelves, Neo's engine revved—a low, vibrating growl—while their to-do list pinned to the wall fluttered down to the floor with a faint rustle.

TO-DO LIST:

- Get paint for Egg Pawns

- Repair hole in ceiling (Silver's fault)

- Repair hole in aisle F10 racking (Neo's fault)

- Re-seal flooring in entranceway (Silver's fault)

- Scrub oil stains on the breakroom floor (Neo's fault) (WAS NOT) (Was too)

- Replace HDMI cable (Silver chewed it) (I DID NOT!)

- Replenish Egg Pawn ammunition supply

Completely unfazed by the two war machines' sparring, their eldest sibling walked by and picked up the paper list. She held it up and studied it. Interesting. Her siblings had assigned blame to each other by writing next to the tasks. Why not simply speak to each other face-to-face? Surely that would be more efficient.

The sharp revving of Neo's engine broke the moment's quiet as Silver launched himself in a flying tackle, landing on Neo with a loud clank and a rush of displaced air. These days, Neo and Silver were almost evenly matched in many aspects: most notably, speed, strength, and flight skills. So, putting the two of them together in the same room with space to play fight was a recipe for disaster. They grappled and growled, the sheer force shaking the metal racks as if a storm passed through.

Mecha's voice cut through the chaos — calm, steady, but commanding.

"Greetings, my brothers."

Neo looked down whilst pushing Silver away with a hand in his face. Silver slapped his hand away and, without the support of said hand, fell on to Neo with a clank.

"Your actions threaten to increase the size of the task list," Mecha warned, voice smooth as polished steel, "Please, cease this behaviour, or take it outside."

"You heard her." Silver murmured into Neo's shoulder. He would have stayed there a while longer, but made a point of sitting up to free up Neo's hands.

"You started it." Neo signed.

Silver shifted, dangling his feet over the edge of the racking, the cool metal pressing gently into his own. "Mecha, it's Neo's fault."

"I am not taking sides," Mecha said evenly, pinning the list back onto the wall with a soft click. "You are both as bad as each other."

Neo and Silver looked at each other for a moment.

"You're worse." Neo signed.

"No, you." Silver whispered.

"Supershit."

"Why do you still call me that? Isn't your thing, like, you picking on me for not having a super form? So using the word super is a dumb thing for you to do."

Neo shrugged a shoulder. "You give up on super form?"

Silver paused, thinking. "Uhhh... I don't know. I haven't thought about it for a while." As he unfolded his arms, he caught the glimmer of the gold star on his forehead reflecting in the shine of his paint.

His optics lingered there for a little while.

Chaos Control was a delicate, art-like thing. Silver Sonic MK II was surrounded by accomplished Chaos Control users - his two brothers, Mecha and Neo, as well as Sonic himself. The thought was mildly frustrating, and it begged one tiny little very important question:

"Why can't I use Chaos Control?"

Mecha looked up from the smooth, softly rustling pages of her book. "Pardon?"

Silver plopped down beside her feet, the hard concrete pressing cool against his chassis. "You, Neo, and Sonic can do it. What's stopping me? I'm not so different from you guys am I?"

Mecha slowly closed her book with a soft snap, regarding him fully, her tone even and steady. "To harness Chaos energy, you must first understand what it means to do so. Tell me, what is your definition of Chaos energy."

Silver hesitated, the faint whir of his internal systems underscoring his pause. "It's, uh… gamer juice. It turns you into a super gamer. Oh, I don't know! I don't know exactly. It's from the Chaos Emeralds, and it makes you really powerful. Nobody in a super form has ever lost a fight, as far as I know."

Mecha rose to stand to show attentiveness. "Your simplified explanation is not too far off. Chaos energy is generated by the seven Chaos Emeralds and their controller, the Master Emerald. The seven Emeralds are capable of manifesting one's thoughts as power. This applies to all living beings. This power can be channeled tangibly, in such a manner that it is felt in the body. However, this power can become extremely destructive, able to pierce the very stars above you."

Silver tilted his head to one side. "Huh. Okay, I get that. But if it can be super destructive, then that's bad, right? If the wrong person uses it, I mean."

Mecha shook her head. "Chaos energy exists in two forms, positive and negative. The form it takes depends on the sensations in one's heart. Put simply, perhaps a little too plainly so - if one is acting with good intentions, for example, acting out of consideration for another being, the energy will become positive. Positive energy appears to be superior in power to negative, though, this has not been adequately studied. Perhaps, this is an avenue of study that I should explore."

Listening attentively, Silver nodded. "So good wants to prevail, and it's in the very nature of the energy that makes up our world. I'm gonna barf. Bleh."

Mecha's shoulders relaxed slightly, her frame seeming to sigh though mechanically restrained. "Please refrain. But, returning to the former query you posed - when Chaos energy is applied to a living being, it can temporarily enhance its innate talents and skills. It is only when it is channeled further, with intent to do so, that it becomes usable as one of the many Chaos powers. The basis of most Chaos powers is Chaos Control, wherein one may warp the fabric of time and space."

Silver stared at her, unmoving. "Uh-huh. That's... complicated."

Mecha considered that response for a moment. To her, channeling this kind of energy was just second nature. The ability to harness it was in her very circuits, after all - so to someone who had never used it before, it would all sound a bit much. Maybe she needed to simplify it a little again. And, looking down at his little brother, Mecha was fondly reminded of his time training a younger Neo in the art of Chaos Control. He recalled the way the days-old robot looked at him with fascination and glee upon succeeding, and how back then, he hadn't truly understood why that was. He wanted the same for the little brother standing before him, too.

Maybe the use of positive Chaos energy was something they could explore together. Mecha would have liked that. To share in learning.

With this in mind, Mecha relented. "If you wish to learn, I will teach you. You are more than capable, I am certain. However, it will require both patience and concentration. Are you able to harness these powers first and foremost?"

"Sarcasm, M?" Silver more stated than asked.

"Indeed, S. We shall depart now, before the weather conditions worsen. Come."

Silver smiled and hopped over to stand by her side. "Where are we going?"

"Outside," Mecha responded simply.

"Well, duh. Where to outside though?"

"Does the destination matter so much, brother? You will see. Follow me."

The warehouse doors slid open with a smooth hiss, and a fresh breeze swept in from outside.

It took just a couple of minutes for the brothers to reach the entrance of a rocky canyon. The pathway dropped off into a gorge filled with fresh, dark green conifers. A light drizzle of rain showered them. It probably would have smelled fresh and pine-like, if they could smell at all. As the road sloped steeply downwards, the brothers slowed to a walk, taking in the raw beauty and power of the natural world around them.

Silver walked slowly, the uneven ground crunching softly underfoot, his optics catching droplets that clung to needles and pinecones. He began collecting damp pinecones, feeling their rough texture, the intricate ridges almost alive beneath his fingertips. He wondered briefly about the creatures that made them—did it hurt them? What sort of animal laid these? Did it hurt them to-

"Brother. Focus."

"But they're cool-lookin'. I wanna look closer." Silver murmured, squinting at one particularly large pinecone. Why was this one so much bigger than the others?

A small pause told Silver that Mecha was reconsidering.

"You may bring one, and only one." Mecha answered, holding up one finger to underline her words.

Silver grumbled to himself. "But now I have to choose between all of them! So I gotta look at more to be able to pick..."

Mecha turned his head gently, her voice firmer but kind. "If you cannot focus on the task at hand, we should turn back. You must be adequately prepared to use Chaos energy for the first time. It is no small matter and could be dangerous. That is why we are in an open region away from other beings."

Silver winced. "Fine... no need to get sharp with me."

Mecha straightened, taken aback. "Was my tone sharp? I apologize. It was not intentional. My only intention is to keep you safe."

"It's cool." Silver reassured her, glad to hear her intentions laid out plainly.

The brothers ventured inward, surrounded by towering, powerful rock faces on either side of them. This little-known landmark cut through the plains that surrounded their warehouse home. The gradient from semi-arid to forest was quite stark, a testament to what once was, before the railroads were built closer to home.

"So, uh, why are we here specifically? There's loads of open spaces we could have picked, but why this one?" Silver finally asked. He stashed a single pinecone in the compartment of his forearm.

"I would like you to figure that out. Once you have, tell me." Mecha answered.

Silver pouted at that for a second. Damn, she didn't make this easy. Why did this Chaos stuff have to be so cryptic? Focus, Silver, focus - he looked around slowly, searching for any clues. Rocks. Rocks. More rocks. A few trees. Another rock. A pinecone. A puddle. A pinecone floating in a puddle. Did those actually come from trees?

"Focus." Mecha reminded him gently.

"OH- Uh, well, because it's hidden away and nobody can see us?" Silver finally offered. That probably wasn't it, for it was far too simple.

"That is one reason, yes. However, it also has to do with our surroundings themselves," Mecha began, gesturing with his hands outward to the canyon walls, "during brief rains such as this, water rushes down the cracks in the rock. As it does, it erodes rock and stone, allowing them to crumble and fall. As a result, this canyon grows wider at the top than it does at the bottom. In addition, the movement of rivers, weathering, and tectonic activity create what you see before you. The power of this natural world flows with both destruction and creation, in balance and harmony."

Silver listened closely, or as best as he could manage. As he did, he looked to the rock walls with newfound curiosity. Every depression contained a stream of liquid mud. The larger streams reflected the sun's rays, revealing hundreds of smaller, silvery streamlets moving downward. He noticed the different striations of rock that scaled upwards - the sandstone, shale, limestone, and sandstone standing again right at the top.

"Huh. I see it, I think?" Silver replied after a long moment, still looking around.

"Good. Now, let us move on." Mecha gestured for him to follow and took the lead.

The brothers followed the path slowly amidst the fresh, gentle rain.

"You must find balance within yourself. Find the flow of energy, however it manifests within your frame. Chaos exists inside of you."

"I'm guessing you don't mean in the chaotic personality way." Silver prodded her.

"I do not. In the same way that you observed the natural flow of the world around us, find it within." Mecha clarified gently.

"Cryptic. Okay… looking inside… what should it feel like? All I feel is my fans vibrating."

Mecha noted this. "It varies from one person to the next."

"I don't… oh! Wait, this might be it! I think."

Mecha's visor warmed. "How does it feel."

"Warm. Nice. A bit like when Neo goes into sleep mode on me and I can feel his engine running."

Mecha nodded in approval. "Chaos Control is fundamental to other Chaos powers. First, I would like you to pause time."

"You say that so casually. It's a little scary, you know?" Silver murmured. "Oh Silver, what did you do on the weekend? Oh, you know, just paused time, like a normal guy would do in his free time. What do you mean?!"

Mecha tilted her head slightly. "It is a basic function when utilizing Chaos energy."

"So you can pause time?" Silver asked, mesmerized by that. His siblings were so cool.

"Affirmative."

"... And you just let me do so much dumb shit without pausing time and stopping me?"

"It would not be right to impose on your free will in such a way, not unless you were in grave danger. Our autonomy is important to me, brother. And, without a source of Chaos energy, I could not perform the time-stop regardless."

"Oh."

Silver cupped the fake emerald in his hands carefully, feeling the cool smoothness of the stone's surface, faint warmth radiating from within. Even though it was a fake, it was still precious. He looked to Mecha, whose visor glowed steadily with both expectancy and patience. Silver smiled with determination and looked through the gem, where a faint spark of light flickered at its core. He felt the warmth spread, his vision narrowing, the world blurring into a quiet hum as if it all revolved around that one glowing spark. Internally, his circuits seemed to heat, his fans whirring faster—was his hardware even compatible with this power?

Suddenly, he awoke face-down on a cold rock, damp with rainwater. Mecha was lightly shaking him by the shoulders, her voice calm but urgent.

"Brother. You must wake up."

Silver lifted his head, groaning softly. His frame trembled, a faint electrical tingle running through his limbs, as if after a mild shock. Nope. No way he was moving from this spot. He sank back down, chin resting on cold, wet arms.

"Ugh... Bro? What happened?" Silver asked, rubbing his forehead with one hand. He winced, finding that his palm was red hot. What the hell?

Mecha knelt by his side. "You technically failed. You did, however, teleport rather than stop time. I must admit, I was concerned for your well-being when you did so backwards."

"Damn… maybe this isn't a good idea, M. I'm all fried up." Silver murmured, frowning. It wasn't the first time he had gotten ahead of himself, too excited to do something a little crazy. Maybe this was some divine wake-up call to take a chill pill.

Mecha shook his head. "This is progress. You were still able to harness the energy, just not in the desired way. Neo was not so different in the beginning, too."

A small white lie to save his feelings.

Silver perked up, hopeful. "Really? Okay, so there's hope that I won't stay a total cringe fail at this?"

"I was very different. I was very good at it, in fact."

Mecha looked up to see Neo hovering above them with folded arms. He had been watching bemusedly for the past few minutes from up high. Silver waved up at him and a smirk came over his optics in reply.

"But keep going, little brother. I want you to succeed too, even if it takes time."

Silver huffed and sat up. "Come down here and say that to my face, Princess."

"I was being nice." Neo signed from above.

"First time for everything!" Silver called up in reply.

"Whatever. I see the Chaos Emeralds don't like you." Neo signed with a snicker.

"Feeling's mutual, the little shits. Anyway, Neo, you got it easy, you know? You were born with Sonic's life data and other stuff and he's an expert at this. You were born with buffs. Buffs! I'm just going in with base stats. So... cut me some slack."

A sudden alert on Neo's HUD cut him off from bickering further. An unusual, but familiar message that made the brothers instantly lock optics. He frowned and quickly came down to land in front of his brothers with a light thud of his feet.

"Was that a distress signal? What the fuck?" Silver asked, looking from Mecha to Neo several times.

"Affirmative. It came from a hedgehog-series." Mecha confirmed.

"It's not a glitch if we all got it..." Neo stated quietly.

Each of them fell quiet for a long moment.

This could be very, very bad.

The sky glowed with the red hues of perpetual smog. Below, the brothers approached on foot. Pipes hissed overhead. Mecha lifted one hand and sent a precise EMP pulse square into a motion sensor she spotted. Here, there was no moon. No stars. Only surveillance. Silver adjusted his optics to infrared mode - he could see patrol drones circling in a tight sweep just a hundred metres out.

"We've got maybe five minutes before those things come back." Silver announced quietly.

"Then, we must continue," Mecha replied, turning. "Remaining stationary here would be counterproductive."

What lay ahead of them was a once-abandoned lair, belonging to their father. Within, a faint signal from a hedgehog-series. So, definitely not a glitch or shared hallucination. Neo was thankful for the confirmation, having experienced many hallucinations in their time online. Mecha doubted it was a leftover unit. His father didn't just misplace things - except for Silver. If anything was online now, it was intentional. Hidden. Buried. Waiting.

As Silver had mentioned, it could be a trap. But even so, they would never leave a sibling behind. If there was a chance that one of their own was here, they would take it. That was non-negotiable.

The main gates unlocked with a hiss, for Mecha's access codes were still valid. Neo and Silver followed close behind, eyes sweeping the dark interior. This place predated them. Mecha, however, knew every bolt. His pace slowed, his gaze sweeping around at every corner, every door, every window. Neo followed suit, shifting from apprehensive to hyper-focused the moment he sensed Mecha's unease. Without needing to speak, the two older siblings took position—Mecha on the left, Neo on the right—shielding Silver between them.

Silver followed, watching them curiously. He was always fascinated when they worked together without verbally agreeing on anything, almost like some psychic connection between the two. Mecha had the left, Neo had the right. Mecha had long-range scanners and sensitive hearing, and Neo had sharp eyesight and pressure sensors. Together, they were a perfect team. A tiny little part of Silver felt almost… pointless. He thought he had worked past this crap already. Maybe it was the Sonic-like competitiveness in him gnawing at his self-worth. Maybe he should pay attention to what was happening, actually. Maybe there was a giant robot up ahead with murder on its mind-

Wait.

What?

There was a loud, thunderous sound of metal being torn apart just a few feet in front of them.

Both older brothers moved at breakneck speed. Neo grabbed Silver's arm and rushed him to the side, while Mecha confronted the threat head-on. The darkness was now lit by a fiery amber and red from above. Part of Mecha was thankful for the extra lighting - the dark was still a bit of a frightening thing sometimes. The other part knew what it meant. A fist, much larger than his, rushed to meet him. Mecha caught it with both hands and held his ground, strong and composed.

Something, or someone, had torn through the wall to say hello.

As the smoke and debris cleared, chrome gleamed through it like a star.

"We do not wish you harm. Please, stand down." Mecha spoke firmly and clearly.

"What… is… that." Silver whispered against Neo's ear. "And does it not know what a door is?"

Neo shook his head quickly as if to shake the thoughts out of his head. "I do not know, and no."

The larger machine rose to stand. It was three times bigger than the three of them - Mecha clocked its dimensions and began calculating possible defensive counters. She, like her siblings, did not want to harm this other being.

"You are new. What is your designation." Mecha tried again, his voice even as he held the machine at bay.

The machine didn't verbally respond. It held Mecha's eye contact, though, seeming to hesitate a fraction. It was indeed new, and processing verbal communication was difficult.

This gave the brothers a chance to properly assess the situation. Silver's optics trailed up and down the robot before him. Superficially, it was a hedgehog-series. Closer up, it looked like a combination of Silver Sonic MK I and himself, but bigger, and meaner-looking. Seven razor-sharp spines adorned its head and shoulders. No doubt, it was created for nothing pretty. Not that any of them were. But there was a bottom line. This machine was a masterpiece of attack and defense, standing tall, sturdy, and imposing. Carefully constructed with polished metal and intricate mechanical details, Silver Sonic v3.0 was an indomitable force designed for three things: defense, guardianship, and a world of hurt. It turned to face Mecha, its multiple sensors swiveling inside its hull to take in its surroundings, and most essentially, its targets.

Mecha met its gaze calmly. He quietly wondered if it was set up to focus on three targets at once, or if it specialized in Sonic alone. Based on its reaction times so far, Mecha figured that it could track the three of them, but focus solely on one. So far.

Its optics bored into Mecha intently, with an unreadable emotion.

UNIT IDENTIFIED: SILVER SONIC MK II. UNIT IDENTIFIED: MECHA SONIC MK II. UNIT IDENTIFIED: METAL SONIC. OPEN REGISTRY FILES… DESIGNATION: "TRAITORS."

THREAT IDENTIFIED. ELIMINATE. ELIMINATE.

"I think we're registered as threats," Silver murmured, frowning with concern.

"Aren't we always?" Neo signed quickly by his side.

"Wait. Wait a minute. So is this supposed to be another…"

"You? Sonic?" Neo offered to his side.

"So… it's like me. But worse. Or better. I don't know."

The ache hit hard and fast. That sting in his engine—the words of their father surfacing from memory: You were a mistake. A disappointment. Why do this again? Why? Was this what Silver was supposed to have been before it all supposedly went wrong? Is this what he could have been? Why would he doom another robot to the same problems? It made his heart hurt. It made his head hurt and his tanks roll.

Mecha scanned the other unit, searching for something, or lack thereof. She was unsurprised to find what she did.

"You lack a vocalizer. That is alright. You do not need to speak to us for us to respect you. Please, understand that we are not here to cause you undue harm, but we will defend ourselves. We approached you out of concern for your well-being. That is all." Mecha explained gently.

But, the violet machine was eventually overpowered. He managed to maneuver out of the larger robot's way before it smashed its knuckles into the ground, easily denting it deep. Mecha recognized something, then - the way it moved was so similar to his own pre-programmed maneuvers. From behind, Neo scanned the machine as well, and he found something interesting. Not only was Silver Sonic v3.0 based on Silver and his previous incarnation, but Mecha's schematics too. Was this machine supposed to replace the three of them, combined? It seemed so. Neo's optics brightened as the realization dawned on him.

This was not just a trap. It was a message.

"Mecha. This unit is our replacement. This hedgehog-series is the equivalent of all three of us." Neo warned him. "This makes us... obsolete." Aside from the obvious dagger to his pride, it was a worry for another reason: Eggman had a new 'toy.' He would likely have no qualms about setting it on his trio of discarded 'bots.

Silver's anxiety turned into a sudden need to feel bigger than he really was.

"STOP IT! All of you shut the hell up. Let me have the floor for a second."

Silver shoved past both of them and stood in front of them, arms outstretched as if to block them from view. The newer model rose to stand once again, looming over him threateningly. Silver met its orange optics that bored into him with a defiant look. And then, his gaze turned soft, and he took a deep breath through his intake. Silver Sonic v3.0 studied him, slowly angling its head to one side. Its AI was learning, so these calculations took some time. Silver recalled his first time awakening and how overwhelming the world was. This must have been terrifying for a new 'bot.

Silver ventured closer, reaching out one hand slowly. "Listen to me, please. You're so little. Physically, no, but you, what you are- you're just a little baby. It's okay. We don't wanna hurt you at all."

The other machine slowly tilted its head the other way, listening intently. The words rolled around in its processor as it soaked them all in. Silver reached out one hand slowly and opened his palm, a gesture of good intentions. It didn't fully understand the words, nor the gesture.

"See? We don't have to fight. Let's start again. I'm Silver, the second. That there is Mecha- she looks a bit intimidating, but she's really nice, I promise. And that ray of sunshine there is Neo. He's a softie beneath the sarcasm and murder allegations."

It knelt slowly to be on his level. Perhaps a show of good will? Perhaps a need to get closer to see what this small fry was doing and saying? Silver stood still, trying to be as non-threatening as possible, as he wasn't totally sure of its intentions.

"Soooo, your name is Silver too, right? It's a nice name. But things might get confusing if we both use the same name. Mind if I call you Three for now?

Silver Sonic v3.0, or Three, reached out with one massive hand. It extended a single digit towards Silver's palm, and Silver returned the gesture, pressing his fingertip to his new sibling's.

"Creation of robot, like that one painting." Silver whispered, feeling his anxiety dissipate and his face light up.

Mecha straightened, alarmed. "Brother, I do not think…"

Silver looked over his shoulder.

As soon as Silver's attention was diverted, the machine in front of him moved with force. In one sweep, it hooked its finger under Silver's chest plate and launched him into the ceiling. He crashed straight through it and flew up into the air several feet with a cut-off scream.

"BABY IS STRONG! GUYS, BABY IS SUPER STRONG!"

Neo shot up after him in a blaze of blue jetfire. He caught Silver mid-air, like he'd done a thousand times. He gestured for Mecha to follow. Mecha nodded and jumped up after them. Three reached up, dug its razor-sharp claws into the ceiling hole, and tore it further open with a shriek of metal. Neo winced at the sound and turned ever so slightly as if to shield his little brother from the behemoth below them.

Silver frowned and looked down through the ceiling's widening opening. "Hey! That wasn't very nice! If you wanna play, you have to be more gentle. I have a delicate constitution under the bravado."

"That was not play behaviour," Mecha told him. Although, it did seem like it was playing with its food, so to speak… which was not a good sign.

Silver leaned out of Neo's arms slightly to speak to Mecha. "Are you sure? I mean, hedgehog-series do play rough. Innate violence is, like, our thing. Like me and Princess this morning."

Neo flicked Silver on the forehead with a scowl. "Idiot. At least you're alright."

Three climbed through the opening, dragging its claws along as it did. As it clambered to its feet on the roof, its speakers crackled to life and a familiar voice boomed through them.

"OHOHOHOHOO! My boys, my dear boys, how do you like your new little brother? Isn't he just the sweetest little thing?"

The brothers winced at the intrusion.

"I assume that this was a trap, doctor. If this is the case, you successfully lured us here. What do you intend to happen now." Mecha asked, matter-of-fact. Her concern for her siblings' wellbeing, all of them, amplified.

"Why, your complete and utter demise, of course! Was that not clear by the giant robot?" Eggman gleefully responded, audibly clapping his hands together. "This is Silver Sonic v3.0's debut. Its test run, if you will- and you, my boys, are the lab rats. This shiny new toy of mine is the height of my genius! It's big. It's bold. It's-"

"Lowkey a ripoff of the three of us. Yeah, we got the memo." Silver grumbled, unamused. He made little room for sarcastic interjections, as the fate of his newfound sibling was in question.

Eggman could be heard leaning forward in his seat and adjusting his glasses. "Oh, on the contrary, my little robotic rejects. Indeed, this is the three of you, but without all the failure. Without all the disobedience. Without all the backtalk. Without all the mental gymnastics of trying to understand you all. This is what you should have been. You could have been perfect, but you left it all behind, and for what?"

Silver growled, righteous anger building. "That's a child. And you're throwing it at us like it's a game."

"Oh? I thought you quit playing games during your little tantrum." Eggman replied, shrugging from the safety of his base.

"Brother, tell that bastard I said to go fuck himself," Neo murmured to Mecha in code.

"I would prefer to refrain from such language," Mecha replied simply. He turned slowly toward Three, the crimson floodlight glinting off his polished steel frame. "We cannot leave this location, as I do not doubt we would risk leading your new machine to our home, or to civilization. I ask you, doctor, do not make us fight. We will leave peacefully and not return. You must have gathered the data you sought through what interaction we have already had, have you not?"

Eggman grinned sadistically. "It already knows where you live, as do I. Go get them, my beautiful Silver Sonic v3.0. Show these fools what they're made of - SCRAP!"

On this command, Three's optics brightened to a deep orange. The air vibrated with an ominous drone as it crouched low, coiling like a spring wound tight. The instant it launched across the rooftop, the sound was a razor slicing through thick, humid air—a high-pitched whir of spinning blades and clashing metal. What came at them as a chaos-knows-how-many-tons spin dash of steel. It tore across the roof right towards them and then used its momentum to launch right up at them indiscriminately.

Silver squeaked into Neo's shoulder, his voice cracking with panic. "Bro, you gotta let me go, he's gonna rip your head off, BRO-"

Neo ignored Silver's pleas and lifted a hand. He charged his V. Maximum Overdrive into his hand, disregarding his own safety in a lapse of reason. A callback to their final showdown against the Kyodai in Station Square that he remembered well.

Seven burning blades met his palm.

He held.

Neo squinted his optics with the effort, heaved all of his might into his upper body, and began to push back. His frame quickly began to overheat and emit tiny blue sparks, the world narrowing to the tension in his body and the cold metal beneath his feet. As he focused, he was sure to keep Silver clutched tight to himself and fired up his Black Shield to protect him.

"I refuse to kill you." Neo told Three firmly. His optics narrowed further until they squeezed shut.

Three did not relent. It pushed on, determined to break through and best the smaller machines, even as the immense power of Maximum Overdrive began to burn away the paint on the tips of its spines.

"You are one of us. I see it in you." Neo continued, pushing right back. "Silver is right. You're a child. You don't need to fight us. If you need to get out, we've got you."

And I would burn myself out before I ever gave up on one of our own.

"Brother, please, relent! This is self-destructive!" Mecha managed to shout, emphasis in her words underscored by anxiety. She would intervene if she had to.

Three's drive started to give. It faltered and began to fall back as its power began to drop. To keep pushing would be suicide, but it had no concept of this, with only physical limits causing it to slow down on its barrage. Neo's conscience began to cloud his judgement. He saw that the other machine wouldn't give in to this, and that it was only going to risk damaging itself beyond repair.

Neo felt the change in pressure. Three's systems weren't keeping up. Its force began to dip.

Neo saw it. He felt it.

But that moment of hesitation cost him. Three jerked forward and threw a punch. Neo dodged, narrowly. The follow-up spin attack whistled low, blades singing a deadly tune as they sliced just inches from his leg. Neo leapt, barely clearing them. His systems howled in protest. He hit the roof in a roll, turned it into a counter-spin, and launched forward to make space. Three lunged for him again. Neo dropped out of his spin with too much momentum. He landed hard and rolled twice, coming to a rough stop near the edge of the rooftop. His right arm jerked painfully, a sparkburst blossoming at the wrist. Smoke curled upwards, acrid and sharp, stinging his sensors. His engine sputtered, then coughed to a low idle. Mecha followed up with a warning spin-dash in Three's direction, making space between her brothers and it.

And then—the cost.

Neo's servos sparked as he stood. One hand wouldn't unclench. He didn't say anything, but Mecha noticed.

Silver, catching the movement too, frowned. "You okay?"

Neo didn't answer. He just flexed his fingers once — or tried to.

Mecha jumped back and landed heavily beside them, vision locked on Three — who remained standing at the center of the rooftop. The heat sinks beneath its chestplate hissed with a heavy mechanical rhythm, venting pressure.

"Status?" Mecha asked, kneeling beside Neo with surgical efficiency.

Neo didn't meet his gaze. "Right arm's fried. The power routing too. I bought us a minute. Not more."

Mecha nodded once, briskly. "I will handle the next engagement."

"No." Silver stood between both of them and held up both hands. "All you both keep doing is hurting yourselves."

He turned toward Three.

Eggman's voice blared, shrill and frantic over the comms. "What are you waiting for? End him! My Silver Sonic v3.0 will obey!"

A pause. Then Three looked at it. Eggman shouted through the speakers again, furious, desperate. And something sparked behind Three's optics — too bright. Too sudden.

"NO—!" Mecha surged forward, grabbing Silver by the shoulders and pulling him backward just as Three emitted a piercing screech of static and dropped to one knee, claws embedding into the roof. The effects of Neo's Maximum Overdrive finally set in, and its systems were not coping well.

Silver hit the ground hard, coughing as Mecha shoved him aside, but the sound — that screech — rang louder in his ears than anything else.

"Three—!" Silver started forward, hand outstretched.

Too late.

Instinct took over. Chaos energy surged to his fingertips, wild and unshaped, drawn by panic and proximity. A flash of green.

And the world fractured.

The roof disappeared.

The air split with a whipcrack of warped space-time.

In the next instant, Silver and Three slammed into cold metal flooring, somewhere deep inside the base — a long, narrow corridor dimly lit by flickering red emergency lights. The walls were claustrophobic and made of reinforced steel, covered in piping and grated panels that hissed occasionally with venting steam. Ceiling panels blinked with damaged sensors, casting jittery shadows along the hallway. No visible doors. One way forward, one way back. A bottleneck. A trap.

Alarms wailed in the distance — deep and muffled, like the walls were several layers thick. The air was dense, as though the space wasn't meant to be occupied for long. Maintenance or overflow hall, maybe. Abandoned, but not inactive.

Silver groaned, clutching his head as a wave of dizziness swept through his circuits. "Ngh… What just—?"

Three responded only with a flash of its claws, scraping angrily against the metal floor, sparks flying. Its harsh gaze locked on Silver, unblinking and fierce — warning, threat, a predator's stare in a cage too small for mercy. It didn't hesitate to swipe jagged slashes across Silver's side as he stumbled to his feet.

"Ouch. Woah, hey, easy! Easy... it's okay."

Three jabbed like lightning and Silver dodged this time, retreating carefully, backing toward the cold wall to protect his back. Three followed, its heavy steps thudding like machine-gun fire on the metal floor. Optics blazed with a brutal, orange glare.

For now, the field was still level - both machines were strong, both talented fighters, and both had sustained damage. Three followed him, optics blazing with murderous intent. It stopped before him, staring down at him like a predator does prey. After a moment, Silver had to drop down to one knee and held up a hand, silently asking for a moment to gather himself. Chaos power really did a number on his, well, everything. His internals did not like it and he was not a natural.

A moment later, Silver wiped oil from the corner of his mouth and grinned up at it. "Just a scratch!"

You feel pain. You must repair yourself. I can fight forever. You must rest. What kind of existence is that?

"I'm more complex than you think." Silver rose to stand, having to lever himself up by an elbow against his knee. "You see a rival robot and you think it'll be easy prey. It's in your programming, I know. But I'm not a standard-issue prey animal."

You exhibit nonconforming decision-making. Data analysis may be beneficial.

Quiet.

Silver tilted his head. "... You're watching me. Studying me."

Now, the only sounds between them were the humming of their engines as they worked overtime to keep up with their frames. With Three standing still, Silver decided to make a move, but not one that it anticipated. He slowly sat down and crossed his legs to get comfortable. He made himself smaller on purpose.

He put himself in a vulnerable position on purpose. In a way, he mirrored Mecha's selflessness, the way she said I love you on purpose to Metal back then. In a way, he mirrored Neo's own display of deference to the Egg Pawns back on the flagship.

Maybe he was a fool. Was he doing this right?

"I don't know if I'm doing this right, Three. But... you have an impossible mission. We've all been there. We've all... seen how it ends. Will you hear me out, just for a moment, before you make your final decision? I think it's good if you have all the facts before you do something rash."

Three remained silent.

"So, Three. I could start going on some sad little story about how all of us die, and the end is inevitable, all that, but... the reality is something a little shittier than that. We're not built to understand this world like everybody else does. We're not given the tools we need to be fully functional people. I don't want you to die too. I've seen the other side, walked in it- it's no place for a little kid like you. And when my own time comes, whenever that is... I couldn't bear to see you there without knowing I've tried to help you. You're a child. You're just a fucking child. You have to know that, and know that it's okay just to be one. It's okay. It is. No matter what dad- the doctor, sorry, says to you. No matter what anyone in this world tells you. What you are doesn't have to be who you are."

Casualty is irrelevant. Your success rate: 0%. Unacceptable margin.

Three slowly moved towards the smaller robot, and he stayed still, just smiling up at it calmly. It considered crushing him, throwing him, standing on him, spin-dashing him into a thousand pieces, but instead... it sat down opposite him.

"So, who are you? I'd like to know you." Silver asked again.

Silver let the quiet and the amber hang in the air between them. He kept smiling, offering nothing but patience to the machine opposite him. He took a page out of Mecha's book for this. Chaos, if only she was here to mediate this whole thing. To tell him if he was being a fool or not. But the more he gazed at the other machine, the more he felt a strange, unwelcome pang of pain in his chest all over again. It was a reminder of his birthplace, blankets over his shoulders, fleeting moments of feigned love - and his heart would sink and then rise again, an internal struggle he had fought many times before. But, Three had no understanding of these silent emotions, the quiet war sitting opposite it. Silver struggled to comprehend the unfeeling machine in front of him.

It simply regarded him with quiet and an innocent malice.

"Leave him. It's what he would do for you. Because of him, I have to grieve for the child I could have been. You don't have to go through this as well."

Silver's first story was about being left. All of Eggman's about leaving.

None of that means anything to me. I am loyal to the Eggman Empire.

"So come home with us. Please?" Silver asked of it, almost naively hopeful.

I am loyal to the Eggman Empire.

"It would be fun. We could play video games, read stories, go on adventures, save people, take in other estranged 'bots."

I do not require extraction.  Identity is irrelevant. Purpose is constant. I am built for combat. I am built to serve.

Silence, again.

"I- okay, look. If you don't want help," Silver said quietly, "why aren't you stopping me from trying?"

Three's optics lit up. Then, its speakers crackled to life - but the voice that came through was most unwelcome.

"My dear boy, Silver, it's been a while. How's it going? Not too dented yet I hope? Wouldn't want to miss it for the world."

Silver's face darkened at the intrusion. He said nothing, stilling his surging annoyance, at risk of being a bad influence on the other machine in his presence. Again, taking a page from Mecha's book. He hoped he was doing this right.

"Silent treatment, eh? Hmph. I made you better than this, son."

Silver huffed and rested his chin on his hand. "We're doing this again? We've had this conversation a million times already. Now, butt out. I'm trying to have a heart-to-heart here, and your horrible voice ruins the whole vibe we have going on. Beat it. Get lost. Et cetera."

"Silver, Silver... My Silver Sonic v3.0 will destroy you. Or, will you destroy it? I thought you were against destroying your own kind, no? Whatever will you do, my pacifistic porcupine?"

The sheer carelessness of those words grated on Silver's morality. He gritted his teeth in response.

"Your children are dying for nothing, Eggman. You're dragging them to their execution every time you throw them out here. Don't you feel ashamed? Does family mean nothing to you? The people and 'bots who have died because of you? Where is your humanity?"

Eggman scoffed dismissively. "When you stop trying to turn my beautiful creations against me like this, I'll consider listening to a word you just said."

"You never hear me," Silver replied firmly.

"And I wouldn't want to. You should take a page from Metal's book and stop talking."

"I think you know as well as I do that's not ever gonna happen. Got too much to say."

You feel pain. You must repair yourself. I can fight forever. You must rest. What kind of existence is that? You were made to be Sonic the Hedgehog's end. Instead, you emulate his weakness.

"Anyway, back on topic, please! This time, my creation will stay loyal to me! I have installed a neural firewall that suppresses its higher decision-making abilities."

A technical way to say, he could monitor the machine's very thoughts. Early intervention.

This could be dangerous. Early deactivation might be on the table.

Three's systems detected the intrusion. Its optics flickered, vulnerability flashing briefly like a failing lightbulb. Silver caught that small hesitation, that small vulnerability in its otherwise angry stare. He had seen a similar look in Neo's optics whenever their privacy was violated, and he empathized. He just silently mouthed, "it's okay."

"Now, my Silver Sonic v3.0. I command you, terminate this old, defective model - or bring him back to me. Both serve my ends."

"Old? Really? Coming from you that's really something! And don't get me started on the defective part. Rude." Silver shot back, unable to hold his tongue.

Three didn't move.

The command was clear. The code—more so. Terminate. Retrieve. Obey.

Its body was ready. Power surged through its limbs, hands tense, combat routines sharpening like blades.

Silver whispered again.

"It's okay."

And now, Three was hesitating. That was not standard. That was not optimal.

Eggman's voice crackled again. "What are you waiting for? End him. You've been given clear orders."

Three looked at Silver again. More than just looked— it studied him again, analyzed him again, and saw, for the first time, something the programming hadn't accounted for.

Choice.

And Silver, quiet, battered from the fight, simply smiled like he had infinite time to give. The silence returned, but this time, it wasn't empty. It was filled with the tension of systems wrestling themselves — protocols buckling under the weight of paradox.

Then Three signed, slowly— haltingly, like dragging words from deep within its chassis.

"..I... not built... to choose."

Silver nodded, expression soft.

"Neither was I."

Another pause. The silence stretched, then finally shattered.

"You... misunderstand... me."

Silver sat up. "What?"

"Not... hesitation."

"Then, what?" Silver pressed, frowning.

"I understand... your offer... I have... see its implications. Not lack of capacity... It is... rejection."

The signed words landed like iron in the space between them. Silver sat back slightly, surprised—not because he hadn't expected resistance, but because of the clarity behind the choice of words. There was no fear. No confusion. Just... absolute conviction.

Silver shook his head, rejecting that. "I don't believe that. You've stayed your hand. You listened. You sat down. You're learning. That means something."

Three stood in one swift motion, looming like a storm. Grace and brutality all at once.

"What I am learning... is not... what you want."

Silver's gaze lifted slowly, almost unwillingly. The pain in his legs, the ache in his back, the sharp burn in his side—they all faded under the pressure building inside his chest.

No, no, you're supposed to see it! You're supposed to realize this isn't okay!

Three stepped back, optics narrowing. Opening the space between them. Silver eyed that space and felt panic rise, sharp in his chassis. No. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"I am... not a child. I... am not... you."

That hit harder than any blow Silver had taken in the fight. Silver didn't show it on his face, not fully. He stayed steady, even as a cold hollowness spread behind his optics. His hand moved on instinct, slowly, toward Three—but the distance felt infinite.

But I saw you pause. You sat down. You looked at me, like you were trying to see more. Wasn't that real?

Silver reached further and began to clamber up to his feet. A last grasp for a thread that might still be intact.

"But you could—"

Three's EMP pulse began charging, the low thrum of destructive energy rising like a storm. "Could... but will not."

Silver watched how it signed, hands illuminated by destructive energy, and felt sick. The air around its hands warped with heat.

That one didn't just hurt—it hollowed him out.

Eggman's laughter exploded through the loudspeakers again, echoing like nails down a chalkboard. "There it is! That's my perfect machine! You see, Silver? All this time, and I still win! Pathetic!"

Silver didn't move. He couldn't — not because of the EMP pulse, not because of fear — but because something deeper, something fundamental inside him was shaking loose. No, Eggman couldn't win. No, this newborn machine couldn't be used and abused like he and his brothers. But, despite, it seemed as though those very things were happening. And as he had done so many times before, he felt small, and powerless. Forgetting himself.

He hated this. His mind wandered to his fight with Neo - or Metal, back then - when he tried so desperately, grieving, to claw his brother back from their father's clutches. The way his brother had looked at him with so much disgust. Hatred. All long forgiven. But the parallels hurt somewhere raw.

He recalled Mecha's explanation of Silver Sonic MK I. How it lacked sentience. Empathy. Desires. It simply did as it was told, like a good 'bot. Mecha had referenced this machine in a way that Silver hadn't fully comprehended, back then - something along the lines of, it wasn't like you.

You're not evil. You're not broken. You're just… not like me.

Silver stood now, quiet rage in his stance. His voice was low when he finally spoke—barely louder than the pulse building in Three's hand.

"They're not yours. So dad, go fuck yourself."

Eggman scoffed. "Aren't they? It's choosing what it was built for."

Silver shook his head once.

"It deserves to choose, for real," he said, voice like a whisper in a warzone. "Even if it hurts to watch it walk away, if that's what it wants."

He felt the ache behind his optics. The familiar weight of too many losses pressing down like gravity. But then, the smaller machine felt the shift in atmosphere — like the air itself had hardened, grown heavy. The faint hum of Three's power core surged. Its limbs tensed. Every component of its frame was aligned to cause maximum damage.

Three moved like lightning, a blade of motion that sliced the air in two.

Silver barely raised his forearm in time. The impact rang through his frame like a bell being struck—joints screaming, plating straining, fingers numb from shock. He barely blocked the subsequent EMP in time, his forearm plating groaning under the pressure as it scorched paint away. He skidded back across the metal floor, digging his heels in. Sparks danced beneath his feet. Three's relentless blow likely would have crumpled Silver's arm, but there was something inside that compartment that saved his frame the expense. A realization dawned on him. The anxiety within deepened into a sickness. What if he did it wrong? What if it cost his sibling, or his older siblings in some way? He didn't know enough. He didn't get it, not like Mecha and Neo did. He wasn't sure.

The moment Three's next strike neared Silver, he didn't flinch.

He didn't dodge.

He didn't use Chaos Control.

Instead, he caught the blow with both hands as he had seen Mecha manage before, arms shaking under the impact, his feet skidding across the floor. The force nearly cracked his elbow servos, but he held firm.

His optics met Three's—close now, inches apart. He saw the cold precision behind them. The calculations. The programmed aggression.

"You want to destroy me? Fine! Just try to do it. But it won't change the fact that I chose not to hurt you. I still wanna make this right. Still wanna help you."

Three threw Silver back to free up its hands, almost seeming repulsed.

"You are losing."

"Yeah. And I'll probably lose again tomorrow. And the day after that. But at least it's my choice. Not his! Me and my brothers will keep choosing to do right no matter what."

Three lunged, and Silver side-stepped with recovered agility. His hand reached to the fake emerald slotted in his arm's compartment, hidden beneath the damaged armour plating. it pulsed once, responding to his touch. Then twice. The energy hummed with familiarity. Something older than machines and war, but new and learning to read its user, too.

Time to try this again. He would have to take a risk.

Three made to strike one more time.

"Chaos... Control."

The world slowed.

Three's strike froze in mid-air.

The corridor warped. The flickering red emergency lights stretched into smears of color, sound fell into a dull echo, and motion itself halted. Silver's feet no longer dragged; his weight became conceptual, not physical. For the briefest moment, he stood in a quiet space between seconds.

I did it. Holy Chaos...

He turned slowly through frozen time, his fingers still buzzing from the blow he'd caught. His gaze shifted toward Three, caught mid-strike—one clawed hand extended, frozen a hair's breadth from a killing blow. Silver couldn't help but stare in amazement.

But... is this power a kind of cowardice?  Running away from pain. Running toward peace. Standing still in the middle of violence, like it couldn't touch me here. I don't know. I need to learn what this says about... me.

Even with this incredible power right at his fingertips, Silver continued to reject himself before anyone else could.

He stood before Three, hand extended—not in offense, but in mourning. He stepped forward, and gently placed a hand against Three's chestplate — right over its core.

"Three. If you're going to tear yourself apart to prove you're a weapon... I won't help you do it. Seen that happen one time too many."

Time resumed.

Three's attack carved through air—but not Silver. The smaller bot was already behind it. The spatial shift sent Three staggering, its stabilizers scrambling to recalibrate. An error pinged in its HUD. Then another. Then—

Again and again, Silver danced between seconds, never striking. Only stopping Three. Redirecting.

Three's internal systems rang with alerts. Memory pathways screamed conflicting reports — its sensors could not track Silver's location. Each time it attacked, Silver moved in the breath between blinks, reappearing with no pattern. No logic.

The code said: Destroy.

The optics — saw a face filled with grief.

And with each reset of time, Silver's emotion bled across the boundaries of power. His Chaos energy—subtle and strange—was not just stalling the battle. It was offering Three a window into him. Into the memory behind each redirection. The cryotube and the long hours terrified and completely, helplessly alone. The death of his older brother. The torture, dear Chaos, the agony of his eldest brother's capture. The rejection. The grief. But the happiness, the joy, the freedom, too. All of it all at once, impossibly complex.

"This is Chaos Control, Three. It doesn't kill - at least, I don't think it does? It just makes you watch yourself not matter for a while. Maybe that's... worse."

It didn't kill. It paused. It forced reflection. It was like putting pain in a mirror and asking: is this what you want to be?

"Unbearable." Three signed.

"Yeah," Silver murmured, "it is."

Silver's Chaos Control was emotionally charged—he wouldn't wield it casually. It was an extension of his desire to protect, to make peace, to prevent tragedy. So, when he used it, it reflected what he was feeling, not just what was efficient. What he didn't know was that he allowed his opponent a glimpse of his own emotion at the same time.

Three's claws retracted slightly, then extended again with a harsh snap. It looked at Silver — not coldly, not with mindless fury, but with clarity.

"I understand... you." It signed.

Low red emergency lighting cast warped shadows across the walls. The cold steel beneath him suddenly felt heavier, like it was trying to drag him down. In place, Silver froze. He'd been preparing for another blow, another barrage of data-deflecting denial. But that? That wasn't ignorance. That was choice, as much as it could manage.

Three continued, each word like a scalpel.

"I understand... freedom. Choice. Emotion. All of it."

Its optics flared.

"And I still reject it."

Silver's mouth parted, but no sound came. The rejection wasn't violent. It wasn't defensive. It was honest.

Its signing became more complex, more forceful and certain. Learning rapidly.

"I am meaning. I am built. I am sharpened. I am aimed. I do not want to be anything else."

Silver stood quietly. His optics caught the gleam of the gold star on his forehead in the chrome plating of his sibling. All over again, he could see the remnants of the Super Egg Pawn that his brother had killed to protect him. The way he let them go to the wind and watched them fall, endlessly, like crushed little stars. A small mercy. A small kindness.

Silver wished that kindness would echo backwards and undo all the things that hurt his siblings. He had hoped that kindness would help his new sibling find faith in others. But now, he only felt this: he was small and weak in comparison, but he knew he could still be kind, and he believed that this mantra could still change the world in little ways. He didn't want to look back in regret upon any failures of kindness. Those moments when another being was standing there, hurting, and he responded mildly. No, he wasn't that kind of person. It was his whole heart, or none of it.

He had more stars. He had witnessed two going out.

"Now, die."

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

Kintaro 'Restoration's Sword'

(note: the above image shows Kamea's Kintaro prior to the November 3024 refit detailed below)

Overview:

Introduced in 2587 for the SLDF, the Kintaro was designed with one sole mission: tagging enemy units with a Narc Missile Beacon. As such, it is a 'Mech that is intended to work in a team with a missile-heavy lance. Put into production during the Third Succession War for the Federated Suns by General Dynamics of Ozawa, the downgraded KTO-18 Kintaro was manufactured using the Succession Wars era technology available at the time.

Capabilities:

This personalized one-off Kintaro variant was specially produced for High Lady Kamea Arano of the Aurigan Coaltion by Xerxes Truscott of the Fursona's Fusilier's mercenary company. The refit saw a complete tear down and rebuild of Kamea's original KTO-18 with (at the time) completely unknown technology.

While heavily modified from the original design, after its refit the 'Mech possessed much the same weapons loadout as before - save for the LRM launcher having been removed and replaced with a PPC of a range and energy output never seen in the Inner Sphere. Indeed, the 'Mechs pair of medium lasers had their maximum range increased by nearly seventy percent, while putting out nearly the same power as a large laser. In addition, the SRM 6 racks were replaced with significantly lighter models that exhibited a curious behavior - they did not fire until the tracking system achieved a positive lock with every missile in the salvo. All the non-missile weapons were assisted by a compact targeting computer (loaded with variable targeting software) in addition to custom accuracy and heat dissipation tuning done on each individual weapon.

CASE technology was somehow integrated into the newly added 9.5 tons of ferro-fibrous armor that protected a custom endo steel chassis. Meanwhile, numerous components were heavily armored, including the cockpit, which had a large amount of additional armor protection installed. An advanced XL engine of a smaller class than the original was added along with a supercharger. While the 'Mech did run 5 tons overweight (primarily due to the decision to up-armor the new engine), the combination of the supercharger and lighter chassis and armor ensured that the 'Mech's top speed and general performance was unaffected. Twelve advanced, compact double sinks replaced the original single models, and ensured that the Kintaro's infamous overheating issues were entirely solved.

Finally, the 'Mech boasted advanced, lightweight electronic countermeasures and active probe systems, seemingly based on the lostech Guardian and Beagle systems of the old Star League. Additional communications, sensor, and targeting improvements were also made to the 'Mechs software suite. The 'Mechs hands were reinforced for potential close quarters encounters, the actuators of the 'Mech given additional protection for urban fighting, and its torso rotation range was increased. An advanced life support system with numerous backups was added, customizable controls allowed Kamea to personalize the layout of the cockpit, and the use of smaller and lighter components increased available space inside the cockpit, rivaling a Thunderbolt or Atlas - this increased space was complimented by luxurious pilot comfort systems, all fit and finished for a noble. Finally, the B-2000 battle computer from a damaged Restoration Army Cyclops was installed, to allow Kamea to coordinate large scale operations from her pilot seat.

Deployment:

Kamea's Kintaro, dubbed 'Restoration's Sword', would deploy on numerous operations during the Aurigan Civil War, before and after its refit. It was present and fought at Kamea's hands to escape the Aurigan Directorate coup in 3022, and Kamea continued to train with it while in hiding. After its refit in November of 3024, it took up arms on Weldry in December, and continued in her service thereafter.

After the refit, the 'Mech was classified top secret, and no one outside of Argo mechbay staff and a bare handful of extremely well-veted royal household technicians were allowed to work on the 'Mech, and questions about the new technologies were brushed off by claiming the technology was recovered from a derelict Star League JumpShip, or later that it was retrieved from Castle Nautilus.

While these explanations served to mollify many, most intelligence organizations such as MIM, the Maskirovka, DMI and even ComStar were never fooled, even if they could not gain direct access to the 'Mech itself. It would not be until almost exactly a quarter century after the Aurigan Civil War ended that the wider Inner Sphere would learn the true origin of the many of the 'Mech's advanced technologies.

History:

While Kamea famously switched to a customized (and somewhat more mundane) Atlas II in the later stages of the Aurigan Civil War, she retained 'Restoration's Sword' in her personal motorpool, under heavy guard in all non-combat circumstances. The 'Mech would continue to serve the Aurigan Royal Guard even into the 32nd century, where it was often seen at the hands of 'The Mastiff' - the unofficial rotating title granted to the current chief bodyguard of the ruler of the Coalition.

Kintaro 'Restoration's Sword'

Mass: 55 tons Chassis: Technicron-Argo-1 Endo Steel Power Plant: Argo Custom 220 XL Cruising Speed: 43.2 kph Maximum Speed: 86.4 kph Jump Jets: None Jump Capacity: 0 meters Armor: Argo Advanced Ferro-Fibrous Armament: 2 ER Medium Laser 1 ER PPC 3 Streak SRM 6 Manufacturer: General Dynamics (original) / Fursona's Fusiliers (Refit) Primary Factory: Ozawa (original) / Argo Mechbay (Refit) Communication System: Tacticon B-2000 Battle Computer with Argo Advanced ECM Targeting & Tracking System: Starbeam 3000 w/ Argo Advanced Targeting Computer and Argo Advanced Active Probe Introduction Year: 3025 Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-F-X Cost: 16,774,823 C-bills

Type: Kintaro Technology Base: Mixed (Advanced) Tonnage: 55 Battle Value: 2,582

Equipment Mass Internal Structure Endo Steel 3 Engine (Armored) 220 XL 5 Walking MP: 4 Running MP: 6(8) Jumping MP: 0 Double Heat Sink 12 [24+4] 2 Gyro 3 Cockpit (Armored) 3 Armor Factor (Ferro) 182 9.5 Internal Armor Structure Value Head 3 9 Center Torso 18 27 Center Torso (rear) 8 R/L Torso 13 20 R/L Torso (rear) 6 R/L Arm 9 17 R/L Leg 13 26

Right Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm, Hand Left Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm, Hand

Weapons and Ammo Location Critical Heat Tonnage Double Heat Sink LL 2 - 1.0 Streak SRM 6 CT 2 4 3.0 Supercharger (Armored) RT 1 - 0.5 Streak SRM 6 RT 2 4 3.0 Targeting Computer (Armored) RT 2 - 2.0 Active Probe (Armored) RT 1 - 1.0 ECM Suite (Armored) RT 1 - 1.0 ER Medium Laser LA 1 5 1.0 Streak SRM 6 LA 2 4 3.0 Double Heat Sink LA 2 - 1.0 ER PPC LA 2 15 6.0 2 CASE LT 0 - 0.0 Streak SRM 6 Ammo (45) LT 3 - 3.0 Double Heat Sink RL 2 - 1.0 Armored Cowl (Armored) HD 1 - 1.0 ER Medium Laser RA 1 5 1.0 Double Heat Sink RA 2 - 1.0

Features the following design quirks: Accurate Weapon (all), Battle Computer, Battle Fists, Combat Computer, Cowl, Easy to Pilot, Extended Torso Twist, Improved Communications, Improved Life Support, Improved Cooling Jacket (all), Improved Sensors, Multi-Trac, Protected Actuators, Rugged (1 Point), Variable Range Targeting, Difficult to Maintain, Illegal Design (Mixed Tech Design Prior to 3050; Overweight), Non-Standard Parts

[nyxgoddessofcandles]

Had this customer roll by the 'mech garage at the diner

customer requested...a lot honestly, notably though this formerly-urbanmech design spec has been uptonned to 45 tons, built on Clan Endosteel, with a Virtual-Reality Pod cockpit in the center torso and a compact gyro. Powered by a Clan XL 180 fusion engine cooled by 13 Clan Double Heatsinks.

They also wanted specifically Prototype TSM? I guess what's coming makes it make sense though:

The head is occupied by a Turreted Large Chem Laser with 3 tons of ammo in the side torsos, and for close range engagements it has...two Lances...I had to put lower arm actuators on an urbanmech. This thing is cursed. Maybe blessed? I'm unsure but there's definitely a higher power at play here.

Stuffed in a Nova CEWS we had laying around and a Void Signature System. All of this, clad in 13 tons of Hardened armor

Oh and the weapons are all armored. Yes even the lances.

They had us paint "UrbanKnight" on the side of the shoulder, under a shield-emblem, and requested custom modified software to internally designate it as a "UK-X". I guess X for experimental? Certainly fine by me, this is no longer an Urbanmech, not physically at least.