As Simons printed out more internal frames, Ronin continued infusing the artifact energy. With every new component that came out, there was now a new sort of energy within, strengthening the material in unseen ways. Though initially, Simons struggled getting the nanotube alloy to come out right, fortunately, to Ronin's relief, after a few failures, he got the technique down and the printing process picked up speed. As frame after frame was printed, Ronin began feeling the strain.

Ronin not only had to channel the potent energy through his body, but he also had to constantly maintain a mental image of resilience and toughness. For every new component, he then had to place this image into the cooling carbon. Fortunately, this was easier to do when compared to using presenceless for stealth, but, that in no way meant it was easy.

Every 5 minutes or so, Ronin needed a break, and Simons, though frustrated at first, swiftly caught on to the fact that there was something suspicious going on.

“Didn't you say something about having magic fingers? Are you sure you were not talking about yourself?” Simons asked, his eyes narrowing. Nobody got that tired from using a multiscanner.

“Eherm, j-just stop the conveyor belt for a moment. I promise you won't regret it.” Ronin replied, breathing heavily.

“You know... you could just tell me.”

Ronin didn't respond. Something like this was simply too impactful to risk coming out. Who knew what the government might do if they found out? Images of Scrabby laying down on the hospital bed flashed past Ronin's mind. All of those tubes going in and out of that tiny body.

No, he thought. For me, it will be even worse, probably. They'd dissect me, piece by piece to figure out what makes me tick.

“...”

After a short rest, the on again, off again printing continued, and the last few frames were infused. By the time the last internal frame came out, almost two hours had gone by.

At this point though, Ronin felt like he'd been pushed to the limit. With the number of mental images he'd been making, there was no way he'd be thinking clearly for the rest of the day. Several times already, he'd caught himself losing focus, zoning out as he just stared up at the ceiling, having forgotten what he was doing. Not to mention his arms, which felt like they’d been dunked in acid with all the energy he’d been pouring through them.

If he was going to infuse more components in the future, he either needed to become stronger first, or use less powerful memories. With the way things were now, he wouldn't be doing any more infusions today. Anyways, the stronger frames of the ship should play a huge impact on its performance. The internal frames were the bedrock of any ship and determined how far you could push them. What he'd done should be more than enough.

Before Simons could begin printing the outer hull, Ronin had them switch positions. And as he arrived before the printer's control panel, a big grin began forming across his face. He might be tired, but he'd be damned if he was going to miss out on something as exciting as this!

“...”

The two continued on, switching positions every two hours or so. And with the Eluvian being of a much smaller size than their earlier ship, the Heidenreich, it was also much faster to make. As more and more graphite and raw metal was converted into spaceship parts, it became clear they'd be able to finish this ship before the day's end. Before long, the only components missing were the Eluvian’s engine and thrusters.

“Let me take over,” Simons said.

“Huh?” Ronin looked sideways at the guy, his eyes bloodshot from fatigue.

“Just hand over the controls already. You’re barely standing up at this point.”

“But we’re so close—,” Ronin began.

Simons made an amused expression. “We’re still planning on assembling it later today, right? We’re just about half-way done at this point. You really think you’re up for that in your condition?”

Simons was right, of course. He needed to recharge. Still, Ronin was no fool. There was a reason Simons had waited for this particular moment to come over.

Ever since Ronin printed the Westein-series based fusion drive, then bragged about getting a faster time to Simons, the guy had become obstinate. Whenever the topic came up, Simons began loudly declaring how he should be the one to make the engines from now on.

“Alright, you can take over, but I won’t be doing any scanning for a while,” Ronin said.

“That’s fine,” Simons replied, his face dawning a serious demeanor as he gave a firm nod. “I knew you’d do the right thing Ronin. I was right to put my faith in you.”

“It’s just an engine. Aren’t you making this out to be a little bit more than it is?” Ronin chuckled back.

“You, of all people, should know the importance of this! 2 hours Ronin, 2 hours! If it’s the last thing I do, I'll beat that time!”

Ronin shook his head in bemusement, then began waddling his way over towards the bed. The journey had him swaying back and forth like a drunkard, but he made it over without incident. Laying down to rest, he began thinking...

There would be tweaks to several components as they built this ship now. With the stronger internal frames, they could increase the engine output. A faster ship would also need adjustments to its inertial dampeners. Ronin’s mind kept spinning as he thought about all of the new exciting changes. He didn't know how fast this new ship would be, but one thing was certain. It would be fast, very fast.

image [https://i.imgur.com/EBoScIM.png]

Whilst Ronin was resting, in a different part of Ironglades, Principal Armstrong and Minister Bladia Ungtari stood before a wooden door.

This door was the only thing currently separating them from Mayor Brunsteins office, and for what they wanted to do, they would need his cooperation.

A finely dressed man silently walked up to them. “He's ready for you now,” the man said, his voice quiet.

The two walked in slowly, though Bladia a little more slowly than Armstrong. She was getting on in her years, and simply walking had become challenging. Nevertheless, they both needed this. It was for the future of Tar after all. It was for their legacy as patriots.

As they reached the desk, they could see the mayor busily tapping the air, likely finishing up some work on the holoscreen.

Armstrong cleared his throat. “Eherm, Mayor?”

Quickly finishing up, the mayor's eyes regained focus. “So, what seems to be the issue?” He asked.

“It’s about the genius candidate, there’s some issues with his... loyalty,” Minister Bladia said.

Brunstein scratched his chin and leaned back in the chair. “The one we pulled out from Exodon?”

“Yes, him,” Bladia nodded. “He’s shown clear distrust towards authority and when we offered him a helping hand, he practically spat on it.”

“I see… and you’ve come to me because?”

“—He needs to be reined in, mayor,” Armstrong grunted. “The problem is that, from what we’ve been able to ascertain, only something… very drastic at this point will do the job.”

Brunstein leaned forward, his eyes widening. “Don’t tell me… You’re thinking about bringing that old process back? We’d need the Prime minister's go-ahead for something like this.”

Both Armstrong and Bladia showed a resolute expression. “It is exactly what you’re thinking of, Mayor,” Bladia said. “We need a tribunal.”

image [https://i.imgur.com/EBoScIM.png]

Back at the factory, after Ronin had had some rest, it was Simons's turn getting tired. They'd been at it for 14 hours now, but with a project like this? There's no way they'd quit. This ship, was getting made — today.

As they assembled the modified Eluvian, the hull, frames, wiring, insulation and so on was easily slotted together. After all, the ship had been designed that way to begin with. Every component was modular and made to be as intuitive as possible. With regards to the sorts of customers they’d designed this ship for, an easy assembly was pretty much a given.

Boosting both the inertial dampeners and the engine however, now that took a little more work. The enormous power of xenofuel drives made them rather volatile, so Ronin and Simons had to make sure nothing could go wrong. For every change they made, they double, and triple checked everything.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Ronin, currently down on his back, halfway under the engine, reached out his hand.

“Hand me the DX-9 micro-spanner,” He mumbled.

Before he’d even finished the sentence, Simons tiredly grabbed a spanner off to the side and handed it over. Over time the two had developed an almost instinctual flow to how they worked together when assembling. A couple of times, Ronin had even been given tools without asking, only to realize later, he'd actually needed that tool at that exact moment.

Bringing the micro-spanner in under the engine, he guided it into a narrow gap, skillfully avoiding the nearby electrical wiring. When he reached a loose bolt, he pressed a button, and the head of the spanner began rotating as the millimeter small bolt fastened.

“That should be the last of it,” he said as he carefully pulled the spanner back out.

“This is the engine we’re talking about. Are you sure we’ve got them all?” Simons asked.

Ronin thought about it for a moment. “Can’t think of anything we’ve missed… How about you?”

Simons shook his head. “No.”

“Well, if none of us can think of anything, there’s really not much we can do. Come, let’s finish it,” Ronin said, then slid out from under the engine.

These last-minute adjustments to the design, had been based on physical stress test results and had not been simulated. Simons was right to be worried, Ronin was too.

They exited the mostly finished ship, and Ronin headed over towards the assembler. It was time to paint the ship!

Ronin operated the control panel, and several spray guns emerged along the factory's floor and ceiling. They'd picked dark midnight blue as the color for the ships base, and the spray guns began quickly moving around, painting the ship's every nook and cranny with inhuman speed.

The paint dried almost immediately, allowing Ronin to quickly move on to the next part. Picking a neo-fluorescent bright blue color, he painted on two thick lightning bolts, one along each side of the ship. Above one of the bolts, in large white letters, he wrote: [Maximus Solutions.] And above the other, he wrote the ship's new name: [Omni-Bolt.]

Calling it the Eluvian-A07 didn’t quite fit anymore. With the number of changes they’d made to the ship, it deserved a new name.

Whilst Ronin had been applying paint, Simons, on the other hand, had been working the printer. By the time Ronin was done, Simons came over with an engraved plate in golden brass.

It was time to finish it.

They brought the plate into the racing ship, then drilled it in below the pilot's chair. Ronin read the engraving, and his face stretched into a wide smile. After almost a month of work—It was done.

[1St. Edition, Omni-Bolt. Manufacturer: Maximus Solutions, Ronin Maximus & Bartholomew Simons]

“Should we call over Haraken now?” Simons asked.

“I already have. He should be here any second now,” Ronin replied.

image [https://i.imgur.com/EBoScIM.png]

Along the runway outside the factory, a stylish racing ship descended. Characterized by sharp angles, two fins at the back, and an intermix of green and black colors, it made quite the presence as it landed.

Inside the ship, there were three men, one visibly younger than the others.

“We’ve arrived, sir,” one of the older men said.

The door of the racing ship opened and the fresh air common to the higher districts wafted in. Stepping outside, the younger, red-haired man was met by a large facility spanning hundreds of meters. Immediately struck by the large number of guards patrolling the building, he paused for a moment. Every single one of these guards were carrying weapons, and it didn't end with lasguns. Plasma rifles, rocket launchers, and weapons he didn't recognize, was being openly paraded around like it was nothing.

One of his men stepped to the side. “I believe it to be this way, sir,” he said, pointing the way with an open palm.

They walked down the runway, eventually reaching the first checkpoint. Some of the factory's security personnel came over and began questioning them. It didn't take long however, because as soon as they realized who the red-haired youth was, their group was swiftly let through.

“Mr. Maximus is expecting you,” one of the factory's security guards said, before taking the lead and guiding them the rest of the way.

Haraken saw turrets, more fences, barricades and more. It looked as if this place had been fortified for war. With the attention the academy gave him, he knew quite a lot about how a home could be fortified, and how a security detail operated. But here… he’d at least spotted 20 men just walking up to this place. This was far beyond what he was used to.

As he entered the factory he was met by the scent of oil, metal and cleaning supplies, but there was something else in the air as well. To Haraken, it was one of the best scents in the world.

The smell of a new ship!

He looked around. Where did the smell come from? Could this be his new ship? He saw numerous conveyor belts, raisable platforms, assembler arms and bots, but…

“Ah, there it is,” he said, his nose and eyes locking onto the target.

Just beside one of the raisable platforms, was a ship so dark blue, it looked black. On its side, he saw a thick lightning bolt, bright blue in color.

The ship looked roughly four meters in length and around two to three meters in both height and width. It was a small thing, but its massive thrusters spoke of power. Narrow at the bow, as racing ships should be, it widened out further back. It was characterized by smooth and rounded forms, likely there to make the ship more aerodynamic. As for thrusters, Haraken not only spotted a large one at the back, but numerous ones along the sides of the ship as well.

“Come, Mr. Maximus is right this way,” the man leading them said, pointing towards a figure besides the ship.

Haraken remembered that figure, it was pretty hard not to. The two black scars running down the figure's face and those two golden pupils were unmistakable. He’d been quite surprised when the man began negotiating in place of Simons a month back, but he hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

Now though, with the way things were going… had this Mr. Maximus been the one in charge all along?

Casually leaning against a workbench, the man wore a sort of nonchalant expression. Between his lips, there was a thin metal cylinder hanging out, likely some kind of tool that mechanics liked to use.

His body posture was one of laziness — or tiredness maybe?

One of Haraken's own guards leaned in. “Sir, I would like to advise caution. Every move that man makes, maintains his center of gravity. From what I can tell, he's continuously keeping his body in an optimal position for attack.”

Earlier, when Haraken participated in that underground race, he hadn't brought his bodyguards with him, so he hadn't noticed. Still, as he looked over at one of his guards and saw the man begin perspiring, he couldn't help but get a little worried.

“It can't be that bad, can it? You're sweating,” he asked the guard.

“Sir, that scarred youth possesses a sort of casual ferocity I've never seen before. Be it my own colleagues, or the men I've seen in the planetary guard, they've all been men of violence... but this? This is something different.”

Haraken noticed the guard's fingers. They kept twitching near his waist — where his gun was. It was almost as if something had spooked the guy.

“Welcome!” Ronin said, flashing a big grin as he spread his arms.

“Happy to be here,” Haraken replied shakily. “So… is this the ship?”

“Indeed,” Ronin nodded back, then took the metal cylinder out of his mouth. “As for your request… You wanted it to be untraceable, right? Well, it’s illegal for us to sell, or gift a ship without registering it first and all ships need transponders.” The scarred youth paused for a moment, then smirked. “But… regulations state nothing about registering a ship that was never complete to begin with.”

“Not bad, so you've left out some small irrelevant component before handing it over,” Haraken said. He was beginning to like where this was going. “But that still leaves the transponder... Did you come up with something with regards to that?” He asked.

Ronin made a tilt with his head towards the ship. “I think it would be better if you come see for yourself.”

After much protest from his own security, Haraken followed and the two entered the ship. If Ronin had actually wanted to attack, he could have done so the moment Haraken landed on the runway. The way Haraken saw it, there was no sense in attacking now.

As the two stepped into the airlock, Haraken spotted a lasgun mounted onto the ceiling. Noticing his gaze, Ronin began explaining. “We here at Maximus Solutions always care about customer comfort. That includes the comfort of not having to worry about having your ship stolen. This weapon makes sure of that.”

Haraken hummed in agreement. Mounting a laser to the ceiling was a bit on the nose, but it should deter most thieves.

As he fully entered the ship's interior, he was met by one of the most modular looking designs he’d ever seen.

Most critical components could be taken out and replaced, and there were clear markings along the floor and walls on how to do it.

“Here it is,” Ronin said, pointing towards an arm-thick cylindrical object sticking halfway out of the wall. Around it, in clear white letters, it read: [Remove transponder by turning left]. There was also an arrow there, pointing out the direction in which to turn.

“This makes it so easy to remove this thing, it's almost as if you want the buyer to do it,” Haraken commented.

“Don’t you see? That’s the point! It should be up to the customer whether they wish to be tracked or not, not us here at the factory. Afterall, it’s the buyer's property.”

Haraken chuckled. If this wasn’t illegal, it was so close to illegal, it would be — if these ships ever got popular. Maximus Solutions must have been balancing a legal tight rope in order to craft this thing.

“Here.” Ronin handed him the tiny object he’d previously had in his mouth. “It’s the final piece needed to complete the ship. It has no real purpose, but according to regulations, I have to hand this to you before gifting you the ship.”

As Haraken accepted the small cylinder, Ronin asked: “So, ready to take her for a spin, test pilot?”

“...”

20 minutes later, Ronin and Simons were standing beside the factory runway, watching as the Omni-Bolt steadily rose up in the air. After transferring over the security controls to Haraken, they'd immediately moved the ship outside. They really wanted to see the Omni-bolt in the air today, and Haraken had seemed thrilled at the opportunity.

“It's time for the moment of truth,” Simons said as he saw the ship climb higher and higher.

Finally, the ship reached the point at which it could begin moving forward.

“Yeah,” Ronin echoed as he saw the ship powering up.

Suddenly, the ship disappeared.

BOOM!

“What in the world!? Did it explode?” Simons shouted over the noise.

“No,” Ronin said. “The Omni-Bolt just accelerated so fast, it broke the sound barrier before you had the chance to react.”

Simons looked shakily over at his employer. “Ronin… did we just create a monster?”

Ronin glanced back, his face expressionless. “If we did, It's one fine monster indeed.”