Scarlet Steel

Tachyon Fabrications are the newest corporation creating mechs. Bursting onto the scene a scant forty years ago, they’re still an uncommon sight. Boasting technology far outclassing most other corporations, their effectiveness is often only matched by their cost, alongside a number of growing pains their mechs still encounter to this day. However, their speed and processing power make them a necessity for any company that can afford them. - An Idiot’s Guide to Mechs, 3rd edition.

I’m not putting off trying to fire up the engine again, but it is a few months before I feel ready. I do endless tests, endless simulations, I rehearse the startup sequence over and over, the correct sequence this time. Eventually though, there’s nothing left to do. I slot in the antimatter cell, vent the engine, and crawl into the cockpit.

“Turn on battery systems.” I recite to myself and flick a few switches in sequence.

“Go through self tests.” I take my time checking every error and making sure they’re both expected and accounted for by the other operating systems.

“Everything’s clear. Activate magnetic fields.” A few final switches get flipped.

“And wait.” I pull up a timer on the computer and set it for five minutes. I only need to wait about 30 seconds, but I’m not rebuilding her again.

My heart pounds in my chest as the timer slowly ticks down. I keep a close eye on the voltage coming from my batteries, ensuring they don’t fluctuate. An unseen drop in voltage could ruin the field's stability again.

Four minutes. Everything is still solid. Magnetic fields are at 100% strength and stability.

Three minutes. The pounding in my chest spreads to my ears, thundering with every heartbeat.

Two minutes. Maybe I missed something. Maybe there were more tests I could have done, mistakes that will ruin everything hiding in the system.

One minute. I do a final check of the system. Still no air pressure inside, voltage still stable, fields rock solid.

My stomach churns as I reach out, my lunch threatening to come up. I close my eyes and flick my finger.

The loudest sound is the click of the final switch. Hoppy begins to gently vibrate from the forces being produced inside her engine. I open my eyes and soak in the readouts on the screen.

Everything’s great! She’s running perfectly! Very little stutter, 99% energy conversion, the cooling systems easily overcoming the heat waste! I’ve done it!

I’ve dreamt about this for so long. I thought I’d scream at the top of my lungs in relief. I thought I’d run around celebrating. I thought I’d bang on the console from overwhelming joy.

Instead I cry. I bawl my eyes out on the floor of Hoppy’s chassis. I pull my legs to my chest in the cramped cockpit I’m laying in and let it all out.

“I did it, Dad.” I whisper through my sobs. “I did it.”

Hoppy’s vibrations are comforting, resonating down to my core. I’m ok. Things are going to be alright.

She’s not done yet, but I’m over the hardest part. As reluctant as I was to turn her on, I’m even more reluctant to turn her off. With shaking hands I reach out and flip a single switch. My mech goes silent, and I feel empty.

First thing I need to do is to check the antimatter cell. I crawl out of the cockpit, walk over to the open engine, and tap the cell. The readout is perfect, with nothing more than a low matter warning.

I can finally reattach the armor around the engine. There’s nothing else for me to do with it.

The armor hasn’t been touched in literal years. I grab the first panel and brace against the ground. I put my all into picking it up, and stumble backwards as it easily comes off the ground.

Huh, I guess things feel heavier when you’re thirteen. In my defense though, whatever these panels are made of certainly isn’t the normal metal that most of the engine is made of. They’re some kind of lightweight composite designed to take blunt impacts.

Putting the panels on takes hours, but Hoppy’s finally beginning to look like a real mech! A mech with no legs, but a mech nonetheless!

Speaking of the legs, they’re a problem. The electric engines in either hip are from two entirely different mechs. The left one is an original Hopper part, but the right is taken out of a Switchblade. The two of them have some issues that I can’t fix, electric engines aren’t exactly meant to be repaired by hand. That’s fine though, they mostly work and the engine power differential can be fixed in software. The bigger issue is that I need to pick up Hoppy to rebuild her legs.

Her upper chassis, even if I strip it down as much as possible, weighs at least a ton, if not a ton and a half.

Ok. So I have to lift her up, ideally five or six feet. I have two incredibly powerful engines already attached and infinite power at my fingertips. That makes things easy, if time consuming.

If I build a heavy frame above her, capable of holding a few tons, I can connect chains to the motors and have her pull herself up by her bootstraps. I’ll need some kind of system to keep her vertical, but I’m sure I can whip something up.

I get to work searching for parts for my frame. I don’t bother making a real plan. If I just overengineer the hell out of it, that’s good enough.

Finding long enough pieces of steel takes a few days, and welding everything takes two more. Getting wires strong enough to hold up the mech is easy, and before I know it, I’m ready to pull her up.

Well, kind of ready. I don’t want to have to keep the engine on and the motors working the whole time I’m working on the legs. Instead, I spend an extra few days building a platform that I can push under Hoppy and lower her onto, letting her sit propped up in the air.

Before I know it, a week has passed and I’m ready. Everything is in place. All I have to do is turn her on and hoist her into the air.

Going through the startup sequence is much less stressful this time. I go through the startup sequence quickly, waiting only 90 seconds after starting up the magnetic fields before opening the antimatter cell.

She fires up perfectly, humming gently once again. I can’t help but let out a sigh of relief. She still works! I haven’t broken anything yet!

I place my hand on the throttle and slide it forward. There’s a noticeable delay before Hoppy lurches sideways as one engine activates, and the other does nothing. In my panic I let go, and she falls a few inches, crashing into the ground.

She’s still running, it’s fine. Nothing’s broken, no alarms are blaring.

I know exactly what went wrong. The Switchblade engine has a broken magnet inside it. If the insides are lined up wrong, it can fail to have enough force to start moving. It just needs a swift kick to start.

If this is going to be a regular occurrence, I should do something more permanent about it. I shut Hoppy down and grab my tools.

There’s only a single panel between the cockpit and the motors. It only takes removing four bolts to free the panel.

It takes a few hours to design what I need. I end up with a metal tube sticking out that I can physically kick to get the engine started, and a metal barrier to prevent my leg from being caught up in the engine. Having the panel open while moving is dangerous, even with my makeshift divider, so I put the panel on a hinge. I can open it up while needed, and close it after to keep me safe. That does mean I need a latch to hold it closed, and I have an old door handle on hand.

That works! It’s completely operable by one foot. I can open it, kick, and close it, all without looking.

I start Hoppy up once again, and at the same time I push forward the accelerator, I kick the engine into motion.

I lurch upwards. Both engines are working, but not nearly at the same speed. The left half of Hoppy hits my construction a full second before the right half catches up. I made it up though, I’m completely off the ground.

I leave the accelerator pushed forward as I crawl out the back of the cockpit.

Shit, I didn’t think about how I’d get down. It’s fine, it’s just a five foot drop onto sharp, old metal. I’ve done worse.

I manage to hop out without hurting myself and rush to the platform I constructed. With all my might I push it under Hoppy’s chassis. Once in place, I climb up, back into the cockpit, and lower her down.

She comes to a rest atop the platform, and I turn off the engine. I quickly climb back out and tie a few more cords between Hoppy’s frame and the suspension frame, just in case. It would be catastrophic if she fell.

There we go. I hop off, step back, and take in my work. She’s stable and at a good height. I can get to work.

I have most of the parts needed for the legs here. It's a simple double jointed system, one knee, and one ankle. Each joint both has a backup motor, as well as a linkage to the hip motor. An electromagnetic leaf spring folds neatly between the ankle and Hoppy’s chassis. It's entirely limp when not needed, but when an electric current is applied, it straightens out with close to a ton of force.

I make a note of the parts I still need to track down, and get to work attaching as much of the legs as I can.