Building Zoids in a World of Titans

Three days of welding, calibrating, and swearing at hydraulic lines that refused to cooperate. But the Arosaurer stood whole again, its chest plating seamless, its knee joint stronger than before. Ziya had worked beside him the entire time, her hands steady and her commentary sharper than Borin's torque wrenches.

The old man had watched from the crane, offering gruff advice and the occasional "watch your fingers, lad" whenever Alex leaned too close to the machinery. But his eyes had gleamed the whole time. He'd never seen a Zoid up close before, let alone helped repair one.

Alex climbed into the cockpit and settled into the familiar grip of the joysticks. The canopy sealed with a hiss. He initiated the startup sequence, and the Arosaurer's core hummed to life beneath him, warm and responsive and alive.

"SKREEE-ONNN-VUUUUMMM!"

The Zoid's roar shook the workshop rafters. Its optics blazed red, and it flexed its claws, testing the repaired joints with mechanical satisfaction.

Alex grinned. "Good to know you missed me too."

Borin wiped his hands on his apron, shaking his head. "That thing has opinions."

"It's a Zoid," Alex said, rotating the Arosaurer's torso to check the alignment. "They all have opinions. This one just has a louder voice than most."

Ziya crossed her arms, watching the machine move with something between professional assessment and genuine wonder. "The knee's holding. No hydraulic leakage."

"See? I told you the new seals would work."

"You told me a lot of things. Some of them were even correct."

Borin clapped Alex on the shoulder as he climbed down from the crane. "She's got your number, boy."

Ziya smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made Alex's chest do something the System had no diagnostic for.

"Next time," she said, "invite me before the thing's already on fire."

"I'll add it to the checklist."

Write SFX of clapping

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

The slow, measured applause cut through the workshop's residual hum of cooling metal. Alex straightened from the Arosaurer's diagnostic panel, his hand still resting on the warm chest plating. Behind him, a woman stood in the workshop's entrance flanked by two guards in standard Warden crimson, a data-slate tucked under one arm and a young assistant hovering at her shoulder.

She was tall. That was the first thing Alex noticed. Taller than Borin, with steel-grey eyes that swept the workshop's cluttered interior and landed on the Arosaurer with the precision of a targeting computer. Her dark auburn hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and the scar across her left forearm caught the light as she lowered her hands.

"Quite a magnificent creature," she said. Her voice carried the kind of authority that didn't need volume. "The reports didn't do it justice."

Alex's jaw tightened. He didn't recognize her, but the guards' posture told him everything he needed to know about rank. His hand drifted away from the Arosaurer, and he felt the familiar weight of the Z-Bracer against his forearm.

Not good.

Borin stepped forward, wiping his hands on his apron with deliberate care. The old man's booming warmth had been replaced by something more formal, more guarded.

"Foreman Vance," Borin said, inclining his head. "An unexpected honor. Stonehand's Supply & Salvage welcomes the Foreman of Veridia."

So this was Elara Vance. Alex had heard the name — everyone had. The woman who ran the city's Warden operations with an iron grip and a reputation for getting results. The woman who'd lost her squad early in her career and never let anyone forget what that kind of failure cost.

Elara's gaze shifted from the Arosaurer to Alex. Those grey eyes missed nothing.

"You must be the builder," she said. "Alex, isn't it? Rank 7 now, according to the guild's latest filing. Congratulations on the promotion. Killing a B-rank Titan tends to accelerate the paperwork."

"I didn't kill it for the paperwork," Alex said.

Elara's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "No. I imagine you didn't." She turned back to the Arosaurer, circling it slowly with the practiced eye of someone who'd spent years studying threats. "I've read the after-action reports. Impressive, if incomplete. What I'm curious about is the machine itself. The design doesn't match any known Warden or national blueprint."

Borin wiped his hands on his apron and gave Elara a careful look.

"Foreman Vance. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Elara's gaze lingered on the Arosaurer for a moment longer before she turned to face him fully.

"I have business with your customer here," she said, nodding toward Alex. "I was hoping he might have a moment to speak with me. Privately, if possible."

Alex felt his shoulders tighten. Privately. That word never preceded good news, not when it came from someone with rank insignia and guards at her back.

Ziya leaned close to his elbow, her voice barely above a murmur.

"You should probably hear her out before you decide she's here to confiscate your life's work."

"I wasn't thinking that."

"You were absolutely thinking that. I can see it on your face."

Borin glanced between them, then gestured toward the back of the shop with a grunt.

"Use the back room. It's soundproofed. Keeps the noise out when I'm grinding flux-metal conduits. Should keep the Foreman's secrets safe enough."

"Thank you, Borin," Elara said.

Alex hesitated. The Arosaurer stood behind him like a silent ally, its chest plating still warm from the repairs. Whatever this was about, he'd rather face it with the machine at his back. But the Foreman had brought two guards, not an army. That counted for something.

"Fine," he said. "Let's talk."

He led the way through the shop's narrow corridor, past shelves of sorted components and the faint smell of machine oil that had seeped into the walls over years of Borin's tenure. The back room was exactly what the old man had described. A soundproofed workshop space with a single heavy door, a fabrication bench, and just enough room for a conversation that wasn't meant to be overheard.

Elara stepped inside and waited for the door to close before she spoke.

Elara's gaze settled on him with the precision of a targeting laser. She didn't waste time on pleasantries.

"I'll be direct, Alex. I'm not here to confiscate your machine. I'm here because Veridia needs what you can build."

Alex crossed his arms. "I'm not building Zoids for the guild's convenience. The Arosaurer is mine. Whatever I build next will be mine too."

Elara didn't flinch. She leaned against the fabrication bench, her scarred forearm catching the light.

"You think I'm here to put you to work on a production line? I'm not that unimaginative." She paused, her grey eyes distant for a moment. "Six years ago, I watched my entire squad die in the Whispering Woods. Eight Wardens. Good people. We were hunting a Rank C Corrupted Crag-Spinner — nothing we hadn't handled before. But this one had nested near a geothermal vent, and the heat played havoc with our sensors. It came at us from below. Tore through our formation before we could react." Her voice stayed level, but something raw lived underneath it. "I survived because I held position. They didn't. They broke ranks, panicked, and the Crag-Spinner picked them apart one by one. I stood there behind my shield and listened to them scream."

She pushed off the bench and took a step closer.

"If we'd had a Zoid that day — even a prototype, even something half as capable as your Arosaurer — I could have held the line long enough for them to regroup. Instead, I carried three of them home in pieces." Her jaw tightened. "That's what your technology means, Alex. Not guild politics. Not rank promotions. It means Wardens come home alive."

Alex said nothing for a moment.

"Easy on the exaggeration," Alex said. "The Arosaurer isn't some unstoppable weapon. I only took down the Stormclaw Liger because Team Celestia was there creating openings. Without them, I'd be dead."

Elara’s expression didn't change.

"Perhaps. But it would have still been a fight. A chance. Your machine represents that chance. It is a powerful weapon, Alex. A weapon Veridia needs."

Alex shook his head. He looked down at the polished surface of the fabrication bench, then back at Elara.

"It's not just a weapon." His voice was low, but firm. "A Zoid is… a partnership. A connection. It's an extension of a pilot's will, yes, but it’s also a living thing, in a way. You don't just 'use' it."

Elara's grey eyes didn't waver. "But here's what happens if you keep this technology to yourself, Alex. Word is already spreading. Other nations will hear about the blue and silver machine that killed a Stormclaw Liger. Some will want to buy it. Some will want to steal it. And some — the ones who don't care about buying or stealing — will decide that a single pilot with one Zoid is a threat they can't afford to leave alone."

She let that settle.

"You think the guild masters are your problem? They're nothing. Wait until Solara's Dominion hears about you. Wait until Aethelgard's High Council decides that Veridia has a weapon they don't. You'll have spies in your workshop, assassins in your shadow, and eventually, a kill contract with your name on it that makes the Liger hunt look like a training exercise."

Alex felt the weight of it pressing against his ribs. He'd been thinking in terms of blueprints and component costs. She was thinking in terms of geopolitics and body counts.

"I built the Arosaurer to survive," he said quietly. "Not to start a war."

"You already started one. You just haven't noticed the other sides lining up yet." Elara's tone softened, barely. "I'm not your enemy, Alex. I'm trying to keep you alive long enough to matter. But you can't do that alone, and you can't do it in a workshop on the edge of town with a tarp over your life's work."

She reached into her coat and produced a small phone, setting it on the bench between them.

"That's my direct channel. Encrypted, unmonitored. When you're ready to talk — really talk — about what Veridia needs and what you're willing to give, you use it."

Alex looked at the chip. It sat there like a live grenade with the pin half-pulled.

"I'm not handing over the Arosaurer."

"I'm not asking you to. Not today." Elara turned toward the door, then stopped. "But think about Thornback Ridge. Think about what one more machine could have done. And then think about what happens when the next Titan comes for Veridia, and you're the only one who can stop it."

She left without another word. The door closed with a soft click.

Alex stood in the silence of the back room, the phone catching the light from the fabrication bench. His hand drifted to the blue stone pendant at his chest.

One more machine.

He picked up the chip and turned it over in his fingers.