Kovacs paced the length of the engineering bay, his nerves taut as the room buzzed with activity. A half-dozen other contestants tinkered with their designs at scattered workstations, each trying to perfect their mechs before the looming submission deadline. Holographic displays flickered around the room, projecting schematics and simulations into the air. The hum of machinery and the sharp hiss of welding filled the space.

He glanced at his tablet, where his own design floated—a sleek, agile mech that combined frontier-tested resilience with the innovative tech he had gleaned from Ivara Prime’s loaders. It wasn’t perfect yet, but it was close.

The bay doors hissed open, and a hush fell over the room. Kovacs turned to see a tall, angular man stride in, his long coat trailing behind him like a cape. His salt-and-pepper hair was swept back, and his sharp eyes scanned the room with the precision of a machine. Whispers followed him like ripples in his wake.

“That’s him,” someone muttered.

“Dr. Elric Novan,” another voice whispered, awed.

Kovacs stiffened. Novan wasn’t just a renowned engineer—he was a legend. His contributions to mech systems and adaptive AI were studied across the galaxy. But his reputation wasn’t without blemish. Novan was known for his arrogance, his ruthlessness, and his disdain for anyone he deemed unworthy of his time.

Novan stopped in the center of the room, his gaze sweeping over the contestants. “I am here to review your submissions,” he announced, his voice carrying a cold authority. “The competition’s judges have asked me to ensure the work being presented meets the Institute’s standards.”

Kovacs felt a mix of excitement and dread. Having someone like Novan review his design could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—or a disaster.

Novan began moving from station to station, his piercing gaze dissecting each design. At one table, he sneered at a bulky, over-engineered mech. “Compensating for something, are we? This monstrosity wouldn’t last five minutes in a frontier deployment.”

At another, he dismissed a nervous contestant with a wave of his hand. “Your systems are redundant. Efficiency is the backbone of innovation. Start over.”

Kovacs watched each interaction, his unease growing. Novan’s critiques were brutal, often cutting the contestants to shreds. By the time the engineer reached Kovacs’ workstation, the room had fallen silent, every eye on them.

Novan stopped in front of Kovacs’ hologram, his sharp gaze narrowing as he studied the design. For a long moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable.

“Interesting,” Novan said finally, his tone devoid of warmth. “A compact frame, lightweight plating, gyroscopic stabilizers… where did you get the inspiration for this?”

Kovacs hesitated, then spoke carefully. “From the loader mechs in Ivara Prime’s docks. Their maneuverability stood out to me, and I thought it could be adapted for combat applications.”

Novan’s eyes flicked to him, the faintest hint of a smirk curling his lips. “Adapting civilian tech for military use. Ambitious… but naive.”

Kovacs bristled. “Why naive?”

Novan gestured to the hologram, his movements precise. “Your stabilizers are tuned for load balancing, not rapid directional changes. In combat, the delays in response would compromise your mech’s mobility. And your energy distribution system—it’s efficient, but under stress, it would collapse. A single critical failure could cascade through the entire frame.”

Kovacs clenched his jaw. “That’s why I’ve integrated backup systems into the design. If one stabilizer fails, the others compensate.”

“Ah,” Novan said, his tone laced with condescension. “Redundancy, the crutch of the uninspired. True engineering is about elegance, not excess.”

Kovacs felt his frustration boil over. “And what would you suggest? Stripping out the backups and hoping the main systems never fail?”

Novan leaned closer, his expression sharp. “I would suggest understanding your limits before overreaching. You’re not building art, boy. You’re building survival. Every choice has consequences.”

Their exchange drew the attention of the entire room. Some contestants looked sympathetic, while others seemed relieved they weren’t in Kovacs’ shoes. Jackie, who had entered unnoticed and now stood near the back of the room, watched the interaction with a mix of concern and restrained amusement.

Kovacs straightened, refusing to back down. “Limits are important, sure. But so is pushing them. If we never take risks, we’ll never advance.”

Novan tilted his head, studying Kovacs as if weighing his worth. “Spoken like a dreamer.”

“And you think that’s a bad thing?”

“I think it’s a dangerous thing,” Novan replied coldly. “Dreams are fine in the abstract, but in reality, they get people killed. Engineering isn’t about what you want. It’s about what works.”

Kovacs opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. Novan’s words stung because there was truth in them. His design wasn’t perfect. It had flaws, blind spots he hadn’t addressed. But that didn’t mean it lacked merit.

Novan straightened, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his coat. “You have potential,” he said, his tone grudging. “But potential without discipline is wasted. If you want to succeed in this competition, refine your design. Remove the redundancies. Focus on function, not flair.”

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With that, he turned and moved to the next workstation, leaving Kovacs standing there, his emotions roiling. Part of him wanted to yell, to call Novan out for his arrogance. But another part—the rational part—recognized the value of his critique.

Jackie approached as the room began to stir again. She leaned against the edge of the table, her arms crossed. “Well, that was fun.”

Kovacs glared at her. “You call that fun?”

She shrugged. “Depends on your definition. But hey, you didn’t storm out, so I’d call it a win.”

He exhaled heavily, his frustration fading into exhaustion. “I don’t get it. He’s supposed to be this incredible engineer, but all he did was tear my design apart.”

“That’s what they do,” Jackie said. “People like him don’t have time for hand-holding. They see flaws and point them out. Whether you learn from it or not is up to you.”

Kovacs frowned. “But is that what I need? Someone who only sees what’s wrong?”

Jackie tilted her head. “What do you think?”

***

That night, Kovacs returned to his quarters, the faint hum of the Resolute's systems a quiet backdrop to his thoughts. He dropped into his chair and activated the holographic interface, bringing his mech design to life in the air above his desk. The sleek lines of the frame, the gyroscopic stabilizers, and the layered redundancies all glowed faintly in blue, a testament to hours of meticulous work. And yet, Novan’s voice lingered in his mind, sharp and uncompromising.

“Limits. Discipline. Function over flair,” Kovacs muttered, his fingers brushing the edge of the hologram.

He stared at the stabilizers first. Novan had criticized their tuning, pointing out the delay in directional changes. Kovacs opened the schematic, the stabilizer’s core system blooming like a flower as he expanded its layers. The gyroscopic model he’d adapted from the loaders was designed for steady, predictable movements—perfect for hauling cargo but not for combat.

“What if…” he murmured, his fingers pulling the holographic components apart.

He began experimenting with new configurations, adjusting the balance algorithms to favor agility over stability. Instead of a fixed gyroscopic core, he added a secondary layer of magnetically controlled actuators, allowing the stabilizers to shift dynamically based on the mech’s movement. It was a gamble—one that might strain the energy systems—but it could give the mech the quick, responsive movements it needed.

The energy distribution system was next. Novan’s critique had cut deep: efficient under ideal conditions but prone to collapse under stress. Kovacs opened the energy schematic, the glowing web of conduits and nodes spreading out like a neural network. He saw the weak points immediately—bottlenecks where energy flow could stall under heavy load.

“Redundancy isn’t the problem,” Kovacs said to himself. “The flow is.”

He added bypass circuits at critical junctures, creating alternate pathways for energy to travel if the main conduits failed. Then he fine-tuned the power core, integrating a feedback loop that could redistribute excess energy to stabilizers or auxiliary systems. It wasn’t just a repair—it was an upgrade. The mech wouldn’t just survive a failure; it would adapt.

Next, Kovacs turned his attention to the frame itself. The mech’s skeleton was lightweight, designed to maximize speed and efficiency, but Novan’s critique about durability gnawed at him. Frontier deployment wasn’t just about movement—it was about endurance.

He accessed the materials database provided by the competition and pulled up a schematic for bio-reactive plating. The adaptive material was ideal for handling kinetic impacts, but it was notoriously energy-intensive. Kovacs studied the structure for a long moment before an idea struck him.

“What if the frame supports the plating instead of relying on it?”

He reinforced the mech’s joints and torso with a tungsten-alloy lattice, reducing strain on the bio-reactive plating while maintaining flexibility. The plating itself he re-engineered, integrating microcapacitors into the material to store and release energy as needed. The result was a frame that could absorb impacts without compromising speed or maneuverability.

The hours ticked by as Kovacs worked, his focus absolute. The hologram shifted and evolved under his hands, each adjustment bringing the mech closer to his vision. He wasn’t just fixing flaws—he was creating something new, something that reflected both the harsh realities of combat and the endless possibilities of innovation.

When he finally leaned back in his chair, his eyes burned from the strain, and his hands ached from holding the holographic controls. But the mech that floated before him was worth every second of effort. The compact frame was sleek yet durable, its stabilizers tuned for precision and agility. The energy system pulsed with efficiency, ready to adapt to the demands of the battlefield. And the bio-reactive plating shimmered faintly, a promise of resilience.

Kovacs studied the design, his thoughts quieting for the first time that day. Novan’s critiques had been harsh, but they had forced him to confront the weaknesses in his work. Yet as he looked at the mech now, he realized something important: he hadn’t followed Novan’s advice completely. He had taken what was useful and left the rest behind.

“Novan was right about one thing,” Kovacs said quietly. “Engineering is about survival. But it’s also about risk.”

Kovacs leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he stared at the mech. He thought about the mentors he’d imagined when he first came to Ivara Prime—teachers who would guide him, challenge him, and inspire him. Novan wasn’t that kind of mentor. His brilliance was undeniable, but his arrogance left no room for growth.

“I don’t need someone to tell me what’s wrong,” Kovacs said to the empty room. His voice was quiet but steady, carrying the weight of realization. “I need someone to show me what’s possible.”

The words hung in the air as he saved the design and powered down the hologram. For the first time since arriving on Ivara Prime, Kovacs felt a sense of peace. He didn’t know if his mech would win the competition or if it would catch the judges’ attention. But it didn’t matter. The design wasn’t just a submission—it was a statement.

As Kovacs stood and stretched, the ache in his muscles reminded him of the long night ahead. There was still work to be done, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The path forward wasn’t clear, but he was ready to face it.

For the first time in weeks, Kovacs felt like he was building something worth keeping. And for now, that was enough.

***

The next morning, Kovacs submitted his design with a mixture of pride and apprehension. He didn’t know if it would be enough to win, but that wasn’t the point anymore. The competition was just a step—a way to learn, to grow, to prove to himself that he could stand among the best.

As he left the engineering bay, Jackie fell into step beside him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kovacs said, his voice steady. “Better than okay. I’ve got work to do.”

Jackie smirked. “You’ve always got work to do.”

He grinned, the tension of the previous day fading. “That’s how you build something worth keeping.”

As they walked into the bustling streets of Ivara Prime, the future felt uncertain but full of possibility. For Kovacs, that was enough.