Kovacs stood in the assembly bay, his eyes fixed on the Pershing. The towering seventy-five-ton mech was nearly complete, its massive frame bristling with weaponry and reinforced armor. Yet, the air around him buzzed with tension. A group of engineers huddled near one of the machine’s open panels, their hushed conversation punctuated by the occasional sound of tools clanging against metal.
One of them finally broke away, approaching Kovacs with a grim expression. It was Nari, her datapad clutched tightly in one hand. “We’ve got a problem,” she said, her voice heavy.
Kovacs sighed. “What now?”
“The gyro stabilizer is defective,” Nari replied, holding the datapad to show him the diagnostics. “We thought it was a calibration issue, but the problem is deeper. The material integrity is compromised—the housing is riddled with microfractures. It’s a design flaw or a printing error. Either way, it’s unusable.”
Kovacs frowned, scrolling through the report. “This was 3D printed. I triple-checked the schematics. How did this slip through?”
Nari shook her head. “It’s subtle. The stress points weren’t obvious in the design, but the material failed under real conditions. The stabilizer can’t support the weight, and if we push it, it’ll collapse.”
“So we scrap it and print another,” Kovacs said, though he already suspected the answer.
Nari hesitated. “We’d be printing the same flawed design. Without addressing the root issue, we’re just wasting time.”
Kovacs felt a pit forming in his stomach. This wasn’t just a setback—it was a potential disaster. General Patton had made it clear the Pershing needed to be ready, and they were already working on borrowed time.
***
Kovacs paced the bay, his mind racing. The stabilizer was critical to the Pershing’s design; without it, the mech would be unable to balance or move effectively. A replacement would require either a corrected schematic or an entirely new approach.
He hit his comm link. “Pitt, get to the assembly bay. We’ve got a problem.”
Minutes later, Pitt arrived, wiping grease from her hands as she walked. She raised an eyebrow at the grim faces surrounding the Pershing. “What’s the crisis this time?”
Kovacs handed her the datapad. “The Gyro stabilizer’s a bust. It has a flaw, either in design or print. Either way, it’s toast.”
Pitt frowned, scrolling through the diagnostics. “That’s not just a minor issue. Without this, your shiny new toy will face-plant the first time it takes a step.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Kovacs muttered. “Options?”
Pitt grinned faintly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, you’re in luck. I’ve been working on a few alternative stabilizers for smaller units. They’re not meant for something this big but with some creative engineering...”
Kovacs’ eyes narrowed. “Creative engineering? That’s not exactly reassuring.”
Pitt shrugged. “It’s either that or we wait for someone to fix the schematic, which will take weeks. I can tweak one of my designs to work in the short term. It won’t be pretty, but it’ll hold.”
Nari interjected, her tone cautious. “And if it doesn’t?”
“It will,” Pitt said confidently. “I’ll reinforce the housing and redistribute the stress points. The key is adjusting the power flow so it doesn’t overload. Trust me.”
Kovacs considered her proposal. It wasn’t ideal, but they didn’t have many choices. “How long?”
“Two days,” Pitt replied. “Maybe less if the printers cooperate.”
***
The next 48 hours were a blur of activity. Pitt’s modified stabilizer design went into the printers almost immediately, the machines humming as they brought her adjustments to life. Meanwhile, Nari and the engineering team worked on retrofitting the Pershing to accommodate the changes.
As the new stabilizer took shape, Kovacs reviewed every detail. The housing was thicker, the material reinforced to handle the additional stress. Pitt had redistributed the load across multiple anchor points, reducing the risk of failure under heavy movement. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was functional.
On the second day, the new stabilizer was installed. Kovacs watched the engineers run the initial tests, his heart pounding with every diagnostic update. The results were promising—the stabilizer held firm and the Pershing moved smoothly during its first basic movement trials.
***
As the engineers finished the final checks, Nari approached Kovacs with a weary but satisfied expression. “The workaround’s holding,” she said, glancing at the Pershing as its massive form loomed over them. “But this was too close, Kovacs. We got lucky this time. If Pitt hadn’t had something on hand, this project would still be dead in the water.”
Kovacs nodded, his jaw tight. “This wasn’t just a hiccup. It was a systemic failure. We designed a critical component that couldn’t withstand real-world stresses, and no one caught it until it was too late. That’s not acceptable.”
Nari leaned against the console, crossing her arms. “We need more rigorous testing protocols before these parts go into production. The printers can replicate designs perfectly, but they can’t compensate for flaws in the schematics. If there’s a mistake in the blueprint, all we’re doing is mass-producing failures.”
“And it’s not just about testing,” Kovacs added, pacing as his mind churned through solutions. “We need redundancy. This stabilizer was the only one we had ready. When it failed, we had no alternative except Pitt’s improvisation. That can’t happen again. From now on, we will develop at least one backup design for every critical component.”
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Nari nodded. “And we need better material vetting. Those microfractures didn’t come out of nowhere. If the printers are introducing defects during production, we need to know why. Are we pushing them too hard? Using substandard materials? Skipping maintenance?”
Kovacs sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ve been moving at breakneck speed to meet production deadlines. I get why it’s happening, but rushing things doesn’t win wars. Mechs like the Pershing are supposed to give us an edge, not turn into liabilities on the battlefield.”
Pitt strolled over, wiping grease from her hands, her trademark smirk in place. “Look, you’re both right, but don’t get too bogged down in self-flagellation. This was a wake-up call, sure, but it’s also proof we can adapt. When the stabilizer failed, we found a solution. That’s worth something.”
Kovacs gave her a pointed look. “It’s worth something, but it’s not enough. Patching problems at the last second isn’t a sustainable strategy, Pitt. You shouldn’t have to scavenge your workshop every time something breaks.”
Pitt raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fair point. But let’s not forget, improvisation is part of the game. No matter how much we plan, something will always go wrong.”
Nari interjected, her tone firm. “True, but we can minimize how often that happens. We need to build a better pipeline from design to production. More cross-checks, more collaboration between teams. Right now, we’re working in silos. You finish a design, we print it, and only then do we discover issues. If we had engineers involved earlier, we might catch these problems before they spiral.”
Kovacs nodded, his pacing slowing as he absorbed her words. “You’re right. The design process needs to be more integrated. And we need to involve the maintenance crews, too. They’re the ones who’ll have to keep these machines running in the field. If something’s hard to repair or prone to failure, they’ll spot it faster than we will.”
He turned back to Pitt. “And speaking of integration, I want your alternative designs cataloged. No more keeping your improvisations in the shadows. If you’ve got a part or a workaround that could save us, I want it on file.”
Pitt smirked. “Sure thing, boss. But you know that means you’ll owe me credit when my genius saves your butt again.”
Kovacs shook his head but couldn’t help a faint smile. “Fine. Just make sure we don’t need to call on your genius so often.”
Nari stepped forward, her expression serious. “One more thing, Kovacs. We can’t keep this pace up forever. The Pershing was a massive project, pushing everyone—designers, engineers, maintenance crews—to their limits. If we keep running like this, the system will break down.”
Kovacs nodded, the weight of her words settling on him. “You’re right. We’ve been reacting instead of planning. That needs to change. I’ll talk to Patton about extending timelines where possible. Better to have a slightly delayed mech than one that collapses on its first deployment.”
He turned to face the Pershing, its towering form now fully operational but a stark reminder of how close they’d come to failure. “This isn’t just about building machines. It’s about building systems that work. Quality control, materials management, collaboration—it all has to improve.”
Nari smiled faintly. “You’re learning, Kovacs. That’s the important part.”
Pitt chuckled. “Learning’s great and all, but let’s not forget—this beast is ready to roll now. That’s what really matters.”
Kovacs allowed himself a small smile, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “It’s ready, but we’re not done. This was just the first step. If we want to keep pushing the boundaries, we have to make sure our foundation is solid. No more scrambling, no more patchwork solutions. From now on, we do it right.”
As the Pershing powered down for the final checks, Kovacs felt a sense of resolve hardening. The lessons learned here wouldn’t just shape the next mech—they’d shape the entire process moving forward. Because in the end, it wasn’t just about building machines. It was about building the future.
***
General Patton stood in his private strategy room, the faint hum of the holographic display filling the air. The command table before him projected a detailed map of enemy supply routes, their glowing lines weaving across the rugged terrain of Prescott like veins pumping lifeblood into the enemy war machine. Patton’s eyes remained fixed on one route in particular—a key transport corridor leading directly to a high-value target: the enemy’s orbital supply chain.
“Captain Harlow,” Patton called, his voice sharp and commanding.
The officer stepped forward, his face pale but composed. “Yes, General.”
Patton gestured to the map, zooming in on the targeted convoy route. “This is our opportunity. The enemy’s convoys are their lifeline, and we will use that against them. The Black Egg will be placed in their next shipment.”
Harlow hesitated, his brows furrowing. “Sir, do we know enough about the device to risk this? If they discover it before it reaches their ship—”
“They won’t,” Patton interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “That’s why you’ll make sure the insertion is flawless. The device will be buried among essential supplies—materials they won’t risk inspecting too closely under fire.”
Patton turned to Dr. Clive, who had been silent until now, standing off to the side with her ever-present datapad. “Doctor, what’s the status of the containment protocols?”
Clive stepped forward, her face carefully neutral. “The Black Egg is stable, General. We’ve implemented shielding to mask its unique energy signature. Unless the enemy has scanning technology far beyond what we’ve seen, they won’t detect it.”
“Good,” Patton said, nodding. “Now, walk me through the activation process.”
Clive hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding. “Once the device is in place and the convoy has been compromised, it will remain dormant until triggered by a remote signal. Once activated, it will reach critical mass in three minutes.”
Patton’s gaze hardened. “And what happens after that?”
Clive’s tone turned cautious. “General, as I’ve explained, the Black Egg doesn’t detonate like conventional explosives. It creates a singularity—a gravitational collapse that will draw in matter until equilibrium is reached. The radius of the effect will depend on the mass amount in its vicinity. If deployed aboard the enemy’s factory ship...”
“It will destroy everything,” Patton finished for her. “Exactly as intended.”
“Captain Harlow,” Patton said, turning back to the officer. “Your team will intercept the enemy convoy at this point.” He pointed to a narrow mountain pass on the map. “Make it look like a standard raid—disable their escorts, seize their cargo, but let one transport slip through. The Black Egg will be in that transport.”
“Yes, sir,” Harlow replied, his tone steady despite the tension in his expression. “And if the enemy starts inspecting the cargo?”
“They won’t,” Patton said firmly. “The convoy will be under enough pressure from your raid that they’ll prioritize getting the shipment out. The key is timing. You hit them hard and fast, then pull back.”
“And if they detect the device once it’s aboard their ship?” Harlow pressed.
Patton’s eyes narrowed. “By the time they figure out what they’re carrying, it’ll be too late.”
Dr. Clive cleared her throat, drawing both men’s attention. “General, I must remind you—this device doesn’t just destroy. It erases. The gravitational pull could destabilize nearby orbital paths if it creates a singularity aboard their ship. There’s no guarantee it will stop at the factory.”
Patton’s expression didn’t waver. “Doctor, this is war. Risks are part of the equation. If we don’t use this weapon, they’ll keep outproducing us, and we’ll lose everything. I don’t intend to let that happen.”
Clive’s lips tightened, but she said nothing further. She knew better than to argue with the general when he’d made up his mind.
Patton took a deep breath, his gaze returning to the map. “This is our best shot at crippling their production capabilities. Once the Black Egg is aboard that factory ship, they’ll lose the backbone of their war machine.”
He turned to Harlow, his voice firm. “You and your team will ensure the device is placed perfectly. No mistakes. No hesitation.”
“Yes, General,” Harlow said, saluting sharply.
“And Doctor,” Patton added, his tone softening slightly. “Make sure your team is monitoring every detail. I want to know if there’s even the slightest chance of failure before it becomes a problem.”
“Understood, General,” Clive replied, though the tension in her posture remained.
Patton watched as the two left the room, his hands gripping the table's edge. The Black Egg was a gamble—a weapon born of a forgotten era.