Kovacs approached the general's office, each step a muted throb of pain radiating from his hip. After three relentless days hunched over the console, pushing his mind and body to the limits, he finally had something to show for his efforts. Every spare moment had been spent fine-tuning structural details, testing load tolerances, and brainstorming modular configurations. It hadn’t been easy—sleepless nights, his body aching from the strain—but the design in his hands was worth it. Or at least, he hoped it would be.
As he stepped into the reception area, the general’s aide looked up, his cool blue eyes flickering with what Kovacs interpreted as a mix of surprise and doubt. The aide was a tall, sharp-featured man whose uniform was as precise as his demeanor. Every interaction Kovacs had with him had been curt and devoid of warmth.
“What is it, Kovacs?” the aide asked, straightening and folding his arms, his gaze narrowing.
“I have the first design ready,” Kovacs replied, forcing his voice to remain steady despite his fatigue. “It’s only been three days, but I believe it meets the initial requirements set by General Patton.”
The aide raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. He gave Kovacs a quick up-and-down, as if assessing him for any signs of bluffing. “Three days, huh?” The aide’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s… ambitious.”
Kovacs held his ground, letting the weight of his exhaustion add steel to his words. “Yes, sir.”
The aide studied him a moment longer, then took the tablet from Kovacs’ outstretched hand, flicking through the design specs with a slight frown. As he read, his expression softened, shifting from mild disinterest to what looked like genuine surprise. He let out a quiet “Hmm,” then nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said, casting a lingering glance at Kovacs. “Take a seat. I’ll see if the general is available.”
Kovacs nodded, limping over to the stiff chair by the wall. Sitting down was a relief, though the hard seat did little for his aching hip. The minutes dragged on, each one stretching painfully, but he kept his focus, reminding himself that this was the first real test of his abilities since arriving at the facility. He had to prove himself. He couldn’t afford to falter now.
After what felt like an eternity but was likely only twenty minutes, the aide returned, his expression inscrutable. “General Patton will see you now,” he said, gesturing toward the door.
Kovacs pushed himself to his feet, gritting his teeth to keep from wincing as a familiar ache flared in his hip. He followed the aide through the door, steeling himself for what lay ahead. General Emil Patton’s office was a study in military minimalism, with bare walls save for a single large tactical display pulsing quietly on one side. The general sat behind a massive steel desk, every line of his posture radiating authority. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, fixed on Kovacs the moment he entered as if weighing his very presence.
“Kovacs,” Patton greeted him, voice steady and precise. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. Instead, he extended his hand toward the aide, who passed him the tablet containing the design specs. Patton’s eyes flickered down to the tablet, and as he began to scroll through the details, his brows knitted in concentration.
For a moment, the room was silent, the tension hanging thick as Kovacs waited. He was keenly aware of the beat of his own pulse, each second stretching unbearably long. He took a slow, controlled breath, forcing himself to appear calm, though inside, he was braced for the general’s judgment.
“You’ve opted for a modular design,” Patton remarked, his tone measured, each word carefully chosen. He looked up, eyes probing. “Care to explain your reasoning?”
Kovacs nodded, clearing his throat. “Yes, sir. I designed it with modularity to maximize battlefield adaptability. The idea is to have several pre-defined loadouts that can be equipped for common scenarios—reconnaissance, assault, support—but also to allow adjustments for unique mission requirements.”
Patton’s expression didn’t shift, but his eyes stayed locked on Kovacs, unreadable and calculating. He looked back down at the tablet, his fingers tapping idly on the screen. “So, no standard loadout, then?” he asked, voice even but laced with a hint of skepticism. “You’re suggesting we leave those decisions to the field commanders?”
Kovacs took a deep breath, steadying himself. This was the crucial part, the idea to sell or dismantle the design. “Yes, sir,” he replied firmly. “I believe that, given the wide range of potential scenarios, a fixed loadout could limit the mecha’s utility. Instead, I wanted to create a framework that could be adapted on a case-by-case basis, allowing commanders to configure each unit based on specific mission needs without requiring an overhaul.”
Patton’s gaze lingered on him, dissecting each word, each nuance. “Interesting approach,” he said finally, though his tone gave little away. He glanced at the tablet once more, considering. Then, reaching a decision, he pressed a button on his desk and spoke into the intercom. “Send in Captains Reyes and Carter.”
The silence returned, and Kovacs felt the weight of it pressing down. He resisted the urge to shift on his feet, keeping his stance steady despite the persistent throb in his hip. After a moment, the door opened, and two captains strode in with practiced precision.
Captain Reyes, a solidly built man with a hard, contemplative gaze, offered a quick nod of greeting to Patton before sizing up Kovacs with a brief but critical glance. Beside him was Captain Carter, a tall woman with piercing green eyes and an air of sharp efficiency. She gave Kovacs a once-over that was both assessing and dismissive before turning her attention to the general.
“Captains,” Patton began, gesturing toward the tablet, “Mr. Kovacs here has put forward a new design concept. It’s modular, with no predefined loadout. Take a look.” He handed each of them a copy of the specs, leaning back to observe their reactions.
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Reyes flipped through the design specs, brow furrowing as he processed the details. “A modular design without a standard loadout?” he said, more to himself than anyone else. He looked up, directing his gaze at Kovacs. “This sounds unconventional. Flexibility has its place, sure, but field adjustments can be… messy.”
Carter, scanning the specs alongside Reyes, tapped the screen thoughtfully. “Not to mention the logistics of it,” she added, her tone skeptical. “Every time we swap out loadouts, that’s more training, more maintenance, more room for error. Wouldn’t a fixed setup be simpler?”
Kovacs held his ground, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “I understand your concerns, ma’am, sir,” he replied, keeping his voice steady. “But I designed the core systems to remain consistent, regardless of loadout. The controls, movement algorithms, and even the HUD all stay the same, no matter the configuration. Only the attachments change.”
Reyes studied him, folding his arms. “So, the operating system and controls are the same no matter what? The field crews don’t have to re-learn anything?”
“Exactly, sir,” Kovacs said. “The goal is to create a single platform versatile enough to handle multiple roles. Imagine deploying it as a recon unit one day and a heavy assault unit the next, without a complete retooling. The modular approach lets us respond to evolving battlefield needs.”
Carter’s brows knit as she absorbed this. “And maintenance? A modular frame sounds good on paper, but it could lead to quicker wear on critical parts. Frequent loadout changes strain connectors, joints, the frame itself.”
Kovacs had anticipated this concern. “The connectors are reinforced, ma’am. I used a system of universal mounts that makes attaching and detaching components seamless and minimizes stress on the frame. The design was built with high durability in mind; swapping components shouldn’t add any more wear than a typical field deployment.”
The two captains exchanged glances, a hint of intrigue mixed with lingering skepticism. Reyes nodded slowly, his gaze returning to Kovacs. “So, you’re saying this mecha could be customized as needed instead of forcing commanders to work around a one-size-fits-all design.”
“Yes, sir,” Kovacs replied, a note of confidence in his voice. “This is about adaptability. A rigid design could limit our operational flexibility, while a modular approach gives us the edge to tailor each unit based on the mission profile.”
Patton, observing the exchange in silence, spoke again, his tone low and thoughtful. “And you believe this approach will hold up in the field, Kovacs?”
“Yes, General,” Kovacs said without hesitation. “If we’re dealing with a wide range of mission types, I believe this design will prove itself invaluable. Commanders can adjust their assets as conditions change instead of being locked into one setup.”
Patton’s intense gaze lingered on him, then softened slightly, a trace of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “It’s an unconventional approach, but I like it,” he said, nodding. “It’s adaptable. Let’s see if it can live up to its promise.”
Patton looked back to the captains, who nodded in agreement and then extended a hand to Kovacs. Kovacs shook it firmly, a surge of relief and pride swelling within him.
“Good work, Kovacs,”
***
The meeting room was dim, illuminated by the soft glow of the tactical display on the wall. General Patton stood at the head of the table, his gaze fixed on the schematics of the “Lee” prototype projected on the screen. The scout mecha, weighing in at twenty-five tons, was Kovacs’ first official design—a unit built for speed, reconnaissance, and adaptability. On either side of him sat Captains Reyes and Carter, their expressions thoughtful as they studied the design specs.
Patton began, his tone crisp and authoritative. “The ‘Lee’ is designed as a 30-ton scout unit. Its focus is speed and versatility, with modular components that can be adjusted based on the mission. It’s meant for intel gathering, rapid response, and support when necessary.”
Captain Reyes leaned forward, a skeptical frown on his face. “Tenty-five tons, sir? That’s light, even for a scout. It won’t withstand much direct fire.”
“It’s not meant to,” Patton replied, his gaze unwavering. “This mecha isn’t built for direct combat. It’s a scout—its job is to get in, gather intel, and get out before anyone realizes it was there.”
Reyes gave a slight nod, though the crease between his brows didn’t ease. “Still, without significant armor, it’s taking a risk. Twenty-five tons is enough for some light weaponry and sensor equipment, but it won’t stand up to any sustained assault.”
Captain Carter tapped on her tablet, scrolling through the loadout options. “The modular setup allows us to swap between configurations, sir. We can add specialized sensors, communication equipment, or even light weaponry depending on the mission. It’s flexible, but…” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “Flexibility in the field has its challenges.”
Patton raised an eyebrow, looking at her thoughtfully. “Challenges we’re prepared to handle. The whole point of this design is adaptability. We don’t need a fixed loadout—we need a framework that can respond to a variety of situations. If rigid designs pin us down, we’ll be forced to wait for support when we could be sending in adaptable units like the Lee.”
Carter considered his words, her expression softening slightly. “From a tactical standpoint, having a versatile scout like this could be invaluable. Depending on the situation, a small team of Lees with customized loadouts could provide intel or light support. They’d be fast enough to evade enemy units if necessary.”
Reyes, though still dubious, nodded slowly. “It could work. But that’s only if Kovacs’ modular design holds up in practice. Frequent swaps could strain the connectors, wear down the frame, and lead to maintenance issues.”
Patton’s gaze shifted to Reyes. “That’s why we’re approving a prototype. This is a test, Captain. We’ll see if Kovacs’ concept has merit, or if it falls apart under real conditions. The prototype phase will reveal its strengths and weaknesses.”
The captains exchanged a look, each digesting the general’s decision, their eyes flicking back to the display. The “Lee” was an unconventional design—a compact, adaptable machine with the potential to revolutionize their approach to reconnaissance. But it was also a gamble, relying on Kovacs’ untested modular system to deliver what traditional mecha could not.
Patton gave a firm nod, signaling his decision. “We’ll authorize a single prototype. Equip it for recon with additional sensor modules and push it through every conceivable scenario. I want to know exactly what it’s capable of—and what it isn’t. Reyes and Carter, I want you both to lead the field tests. Find this machine’s limits.”
Reyes straightened, nodding. “Understood, sir. We’ll put it through the wringer.”
Carter leaned back, her expression shifting from doubt to determination. “If it holds up, it could give us an edge we haven’t had before.”
Patton allowed a small smile. “Exactly. Tell Kovacs he’s got the green light on the prototype. We’ll be expecting results.”
Reyes and Carter stood, acknowledging the order before heading out. As the door closed behind them, Patton turned back to the display, the image of the Lee glowing brightly against the dim room, a symbol of the risks—and rewards—that came with innovation.