Scarlet Steel

“Scarlet, go put on your suit.” Juno orders.

“Huh?” I turn away from Exa and put down my breakfast. I glance at the windows, checking the map. We’re just now arriving at the dealership. “Are we expecting a fight?”

“No, your dress suit, your nice clothes.”

That only confuses me even more.

“I need a suit to buy mech parts?”

“You need a suit for the meeting after. We’re talking to a contact there, you need to see how deals are made.”

“Oh! Alright!” I really hope it fits, I never actually tried it on. “When are we headed out?”

“Docking in twenty minutes.”

“Got it.” I quickly finish my breakfast and head back up to my room.

The slowly growing pile of dirty clothes I’ve tossed in the corner stares at me as I enter. I really need to take care of that, but I still have a few clean clothes left. I glance around, looking for the box that my suit came in.

“Andromeda, where’d I put my suit?” I call.

“Under the bed.” She answers.

“Thank you.” I reach under the bed, pull it out, and push a few projects out of the way to set it on my desk.

I unfold the top, and am met with a second box inside the first. Sure. I toss the packaging into the corner of the room, open up the new box, only to find a small collection of boxes inside.

“Are you serious?” My gun had less packaging.

I start with the largest box, open it up, and the clothes are wrapped in paper and plastic. Sure. That seems wasteful, but sure.

It takes a few minutes to get everything laid out on my bed. I guess it looks nice? There’s only one way to find out.

It takes even longer to fully squeeze into everything. It’s not much looser than my survival suit, but I guess that’s what I asked for. At least moving is easy, and there are even hidden pockets literally everywhere!

I step in front of the mirror and check myself out. Oh, I look professional. It’s simple, black pants, vest, and jacket with a white dress shirt. There’s no tie, no frills, nothing dangling. If I work in this, I’ll for sure take the jacket off, and I’ll need to roll up the sleeves, but it’ll work. The fabric quality isn’t as nice as Dad’s overalls, but they’ll work.

The box also had a weird bowl? I pick it up and turn it over, reading the instructions.

“No way.” It’s a makeup applier, that’s not happening. I toss it onto my pile of clothes, pull back my hair into a pony tail, and head back downstairs.

I find everyone besides Graff and Xenia waiting at the center table.

Juno and Elara’s holographic form are wearing matching practical red dresses. It’s strange to see her wearing it. The skin of her arms is worn, with old scars peppering it. Parts of it match the burnt half of her face.

Janus’s outfit is more metal than cloth. Each plate is intricately engraved, with details impossible to make out from more than a few inches away. The plates are carefully layered over and through each other, making no noise when he moves.

I’ve never seen Exa wear anything nice before. Her top and skirt are simple, but that’s not the part that draws my eye. Her bare metal arms and legs are painted with swirling colors and geometric shapes.

Juno glances over and nods, once again stepping forward to correct the collar of my shirt.

“I thought you’d hate the makeup.” She grabs the corner of my suit, pulls it away from me, and wordlessly slips my pistol into my inside pocket.

“For shopping?” I ask.

“For the meeting.” She corrects. “A lot of pilots, and especially AI, have weapon systems built in. You can’t restrict weapons without losing most of your clients, but it’s polite to keep them hidden.”

“Alright.” I guess I don’t want to be the only one unarmed, even if I am more likely to hit someone innocent if I try to shoot someone. My suit doesn’t bulge out from the added bulk, but I’m not really sure how it manages that?

“Come on.” Juno heads for the warehouse, and I follow along. Even walking, Janus makes no noise, despite the metal plates visibly moving.

We pile into the dropship and undock. We’re heading towards a space station, far smaller than the one Tera lives on. It’s a massive sphere, glowing with lights and screens across the entire thing. Advertisements for parts and new models of mechs flash by, screaming out into the darkness of space.

“You can trade in your old mech for a newer model? Why?” Mechs don’t change, they’ve been at their legal limits for years. At most you just get a slightly differently shaped chassis, but the internals have only changed a few times in recent history.

“You’re the only one who enjoys maintenance, dummy.” Exa gently jabs me with her elbow. “Not everyone wants to do a full teardown and rebuild when their parts get worn out.”

“You don’t have to do a full teardown if you do regular maintenance. Sounds like they need better mechies.”

“Most companies do.” Juno agrees. “It’s also nice when a mech gets totaled, to get a few arcs from a wreck. That’s not to say there aren’t people with more arcs than sense, but the people trading in every year don’t tend to be real mercenaries, just hobbyists.”

“That’s an expensive hobby.”

“There are worse things to be into.”

A single platform extends from the front of the station. Janus brings us down, gently resting us on the surface. As soon as we’re in place, the platform retracts towards the station. The walls fold out of the way, leaving just a glowing blue field to keep the air from escaping the station. Our ship stops inside the entrance to the showroom, but black squares are blocking most of the view.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Me.” Exa answers, and nods towards the door. “It’s more impressive to see it in person first.”

“Alright.” Everyone else waits for me to make my way out of the ship, and follows close behind.

The exit door opens, and I stop in my tracks. Standing proudly in the center of the showroom are two behemoth mechs, a Fortune’s Favor and Lady Luck. Fifty tons each of pure metal gleaming under the bright lights. I’ve read stories about the Fortune’s Favor. They fit an entire manufacturing plant in it, supposedly people have ended up with a completely new mech after their previous one was destroyed in the field.

I can barely tear my eyes away from the two of them and take in the rest of the showroom. All three of their scout mechs line the right wall. Their Hopper’s chassis is way newer than mine, but no more effective. Or at least no more effective after I replace my old parts again. Sitting next to it is a Skipper, the same mech Dad used to pilot. I have to make sure I take a closer look at that today, and maybe the Jumper while I’m at it.

On the other side of the showroom are three more mechs, their two large options, a Smoke and Fire. The Smoke is open, revealing a cavern on the inside large enough for the Fire to take cover in.

Funnily enough, the White Lie stands next to them, one of their two Medium mechs. All other mechs have obviously fake weapons installed, but the White Lie is just a seamless hull. The Black Sheep, on the other hand, is nowhere to be seen. I know they’re not that popular, and that they have some major flaws that make them easy to disable, but they could at least let one sit in the showroom.

“Can I help you?” I didn’t even notice the man approaching before he spoke. He’s definitely a salesman, dressed in a fine suit.

“How much are the behemoths?” The question slips out of my mouth before I can even consider it.

“We can certainly discuss that.” He politely chuckles.

Juno steps forward before I can say anything.

“Appointment for Apollo.”

“Of course, right this way.” He gestures deeper into the showroom, and Juno leads, already knowing her location.

“Do you need me for this?” I rush to keep up with her and ask.

“Don’t get cornered by a salesman, they’re more convincing than you think, and I don’t care how smart you think you are, you will buy crap you don’t need. You’re dismissed, look at whatever you want.”

“Thank you!” I break off and head straight for the scouts. I stand in front of the Skipper, reach out and rest my hand on its leg. “What was Dad piloting?” I don’t even need to check to see if Exa followed me or not.

“He was in his scout.”

He was in this.

“He held the line with a scout?” The weapon systems aren’t anything special, but a rotating plate on top of the Skipper gives it a full 360 degree firing arc. The four legs are a big weakness though. Sure, it can function on just three legs, but once you’re in that situation, your speed is so reduced that you’re not going to be able to dodge anything.

“He did.”

He knew what was going to happen. If I was in that situation, could I do the same? I don’t know.

“Where’s his White Lie?” I ask. “It’s not on the ship.”

“We’ve got a little compound hidden on a planet near Earth. It’s in cold storage there.”

“Gotcha. I think-”

“Can I help you?” Another worker interrupts us.

“I’ve already got a Hopper.” I brush him off.

“Well how old is it? The new model’s sloped armor deflects incoming projectiles substantially better than previous years.”

“A mix of parts from the past fifty years.” I shrug. “The chassis is from 2228.”

“You know, the armor degrades over time. I’d recommend at minimum a full materials check. Our lab is top-of-the-line.”

“I’m fine.” I did a lot of research on this. He’s right, they do degrade, but properly re-annealing the armor brings it back to spec. That’s all it takes. “My boss is already buying new parts.”

“Alright, I’ll let you get to things then. If you need anything, I’ll be around.” That’s thankfully enough to get him to leave.

“Alright.” I turn back to the Skipper, but the moment’s passed. I just shake my head and move on, glancing at the showroom Hopper. “The new style looks weird.” It’s very angular, even the leg armor. That creates these large flat areas on the sides, which wouldn’t do anything to deflect bullets. I guess it could be better in a direct assault? But directly facing down incoming fire for an extended period of time is almost never the goal, my previous fight doesn't count.

“Hoppers are more specialized for larger companies and defensive corps these days. It’s become the budget option for defense against ill-equipped bandits.”

“That’s a waste, but I guess it makes sense.” Hoppers are already one of the cheapest mechs, even amongst other scouts. Switchblades are more expensive and purely melee, Daggers have double the firepower but worse armor, Aphids are tiny, designed for urban environments, not outposts, and Elytron’s scout mechs are far too specialized. A Hopper fits as a good all rounder.

“Mm-hmm. I’ve always been glad you stumbled across an older model.”

No matter how much I look around, my vision is always drawn back towards the behemoths.

“Do you have any of those stored at your compound?” I nod towards them.

“Not even close. We don’t do extended missions, they always end in losses. We don’t need anything that big, and using one would slow us down too much. Even large mechs tend to be too slow, but we do have a few.”

“Maybe one day I’ll get to sit in one.” I can, at minimum, configure the simulator to pretend.

“Maybe.”

Juno is done with her meeting far too quickly. I don’t even get to look at the large mechs by the time she reappears. Exa has to point her out to me, waiting at the back of the showroom.

“Time to leave?” I guess.

“Time for the meeting.” She says.

“On this station?”

“People will do business anywhere mercenaries congregate. Come on, let’s go make a deal.” Exa doesn’t wait for me before turning towards Juno and striding forward.