Building the Collateral - 94 - Early Access (Patreon)

It sounded like it was going to be a little until school actually began, which was something that Morgan was looking forwards to. She understood that she was apparently...odd in being excited at the prospect, as supposedly most others her age would rather have plenty of free time otherwise. But having what they desired, the most she could say was that the novelty wore off quite quickly.

And she was pretty bored of sitting around.

Kishi did try to help by providing supplementary lessons to catch up, but the instructional NHP couldn’t divert much time from her main efforts of leading the push for education. So more often than not, Morgan found herself just watching Ichigo tinker with whatever part she had pulled out from the destroyed Saladin. It was apparently something very exciting for the mechanic, a sort of modified generator that took up only a fraction of the ordinary space that an ordinary variant would. Some exciting prototype of Harrison Armory, which raised some concerns about if they asked for it back.

Then Miss Erica snorted and told the two to keep it, because she hated the damn thing. The scientists were far more interested with the data she’d apparently gathered than a failed system, one that might she admittedly also probably ruined with her very rough handling. They could always just make a new one that fit whatever new specifications they had in mind. However, there still was an interesting condition the mercenary threw in regarding claiming the scrap.

A bizarre one that involved a simulator program apparently.

“I’m not one for games that don’t included alcohol or other sorts of fun to liven things up, but this thing’s one of the few real deal things,” Erica mentioned while adjusting her hardsuit. “Or well, it can be if you set it to be. I still think it falls short of actually piloting a mech, but I think your uncle would strangle me if I tossed you straight into a frame in the arena.”

“He probably would,” Morgan agreed, nervously tugging on her own attire. It was weird, being so different from her old suit she’d escaped in- that thing now far too tattered for anything but recycling- yet possessing enough of a familiar feeling to be a little reassuring. A perfect fit as well, as the SSC probably already had all her sizes on file. “Especially because I think I’m a little...rusty, I think.”

“You think?”

“Last time I piloted a mech, I wasn’t in the right mind. And I didn’t get a chance to try again in all of the chaos of Port Barbarus.” She shrugged, slightly sheepish. “Who knows? Maybe I really don’t know anything until I get pushed. But please, go easy on me today.”

Erica grunted, then jerkily nodded once. “Fine. I’ll pick a machine I’m not familiar with. Might as well put in some time learning an unfamiliar cockpit, make something out of this exercise if nothing else.”

Morgan nodded gratefully, though she too was intrigued. “I think I’ll also try something new. This Lancer Online, it says they have very accurate data on other SSC frames I want to play with.”

The Monarch was of course something she immediately felt drawn to, but the girl also wanted to see if her supposed innate ability applied to other frames as well. It also felt fair in a way, if her sparring partner was picking an unfamiliar machine herself too. With her mind made up on the matter, she sucked in a deep breath and entered one of the simulation booths.

At first glance, when fully illuminated and dormant, the suite was simply a cubicle with monitors, the most noteworthy thing being the large chair at the center. It was too big for an office space, but about the right size and dimensions for an average cockpit seat. Thankfully, it could be adjusted to her liking as Morgan definitely was smaller than expected users of the system, both in real life and within this supposed accurate replica.

Once she got comfortable, the girl gingerly powered up the system and waited. When the screen flashed with a request for a neural translator, she obliged by taking a cord on the chair and plugging it into a matching port on her neck. There was a slight pinch of the nerves, something akin a syringe plunging into her spine, though there wasn’t any actual broken skin. If anything, Morgan was so used to similar sensations that it felt almost...welcoming.

Like the embrace of an old friend.

The monitor flashed once, confirming the connection, and the booth’s lights suddenly dimmed, eventually turning off entirely to plunge the space into near-total darkness. Something that definitely resemble what it was like to be in a cockpit with the power off. But instead of going right to boot, there was another inquiry from the system: a choice to be made.

What frame did she wish to simulate on this occasion?

The Monarch was of course there, front and center, but Morgan pointedly swiped past it with a flick of the finger. She studied the catalog and hummed aloud, thinking briefly before making her choice. The chosen frame gleamed, then expanded to another screen that allowed her to customize the performance even further. It also allowed for additional adjustments such as preferred motive system, which was nice. She didn’t think she was ready to try handling four legs quite yet.

When she was done with all her fine-tuning, Morgan locked in the selection and tried booting again. This time, the process went through seamlessly, with all the smoothness of a mech’s control systems welcoming a familiar user. Various lights scattered through the booth flashed, mimicking the actual layout of where similar bulbs would be installed in the cockpit in a very thorough recreation. Screens surrounding the primary display lit up, those on equal level revealing a quite accurate view out of a head camera while those below changed to display what ought to be an imitation of this mech’s console readings.

Morgan waited until everything seemed to settle, then hesitantly grabbed the control sticks. It took only a few experimental pulls and pushes before she concluded her verdict. “It’s...impressive. I think,” she added. “I haven’t actually seen the interior of a Swallowtail before, but this feels...pretty accurate.”

“It should be,” commented Erica, who was stomping up in...hold on. That was a familiar sight. Which meant she broke her promise!

“Hey, I thought you said you were going to be using a mech you weren’t used to!”

“I am,” she grumpily insisted, the Saladin raising its weapon to bring to rest along its shoulder. “What I was using last time wasn’t the Big Sal for sure. That was some sort of abomination attempt to make it a Bigger Sal, except it overdosed on whatever the eggheads had been on.”

“...I don’t understand what that means.”

“It was bad,” the experienced pilot summarized bluntly with an unapologetic shrug on the camera feed. “So I’m going to need a palate cleanser in reminding myself what a regular Saladin ought to be like. Relax, it’s not like I lied on purpose to get you to pick a weaker frame. Though you’re in a definitely real interesting choice.”

The girl relaxed slightly, hand reaching out to almost affectionately pat the handrest as if it was real. “It’s something unusual,” she offered. “So I picked it.”

“Making me feel real guilty about not picking a Sunzi, eh? Ah, nothing to it.” There was a brief pause, then a message arrived via the feed. “Let’s not waste time. Gear up, and get ready to show me what you’ve got.”

Morgan squared her shoulders and nodded, tapping to accept the invitation for a private match. The simulation obliged.

While there were some things to that Saladin prototype Erica did appreciate, like being able to lug around a heavy laser, the trade-off in reliability simply wasn’t worth it in her opinion. That was the report she sent to the engineers behind the project, her professional opinion being that a boost in firepower had to be backed up by a guarantee the thing didn’t start breaking the moment something broke through the shield and sneezed on it. Sure, it could be argued that her opposition that day just lucked out in picking the exact right model that would have countered the regular variant anyway.

It also could be argued that on the battlefield, accounting for your biggest weakness was how you stayed alive anyways.

If they wanted to disregard her suggestions and push on with further tests, then fine. She just wasn’t going to be the guinea pig again, not after collecting her paycheck. A nice little handsome bonus that’ll earn her a few Bonaparte rounds, which was nice. Maybe she’ll even invite Moores out to share in it, given he enabled the payday.

He might not be so receptive though with how she was thrashing his niece.

The warp shield came alive and caught the spray of twin machine guns, the low caliber rounds barely registering on the energy levels. The Swallowtail dumped the rounds anyway, then boosted to try and put on some distance so that it could use its primary armament. But already, Erica’s steed was coolly taking aim and firing the laser rifle with one hand. Yes, it was definitely weaker than a heavy laser.

But the variant she picked wasn’t one based off the Sherman’s Sol-pattern. Rather, the closest comparison would be to GMS’ own assault rifle. Harrison Armory did like energy weapons- but they also weren’t afraid to take ideas from traditional ballistics either.

The rounds accurately slammed into the retreating SSC machine, which took the hits poorly. It didn’t have much armor, relying more on a cloaking system combined with a rapid redeployment strategy to pack on additional firepower. Maybe if she had a few more years behind her, the young girl could have recovered from the fumble.

As it was, she took the blow poorly and her machine reacted equally when it crashed into a nearby block, the smaller mech crashing through wall and stopping about buried halfway. The collision threw up a cloud of dust that briefly obscured the downed steed, kicked up by the very violent fall.

Ugh. Erica was starting to feel a little bad, though she was more bemused by this entire thing.

Was this really the girl who took on a Union battleship? It wasn’t that she didn’t have some talent- heck, all of her mercenary subordinates would’ve long since tapped out by now- but there was none of that lethal potential that’d been all the buzz. Maybe that was the key to it; Erica didn’t feel a single lick of killing instinct that any half-decent soldier would have mustered by now.

That sort of kill or be killed attitude that dictated survival in war.

Might as well just end this then, maybe try something else to see where those instincts where. Erica walked her Saladin forwards, loading in a fresh cell and preparing her scathing critique. Then she paused, eyes narrowing. Years of experience told her something was wrong.

She realized it a moment later when the radar blip for the Swallowtail vanished.

Her Saladin was already snapping for a new heading when she felt it. The slightest hint of bloodlust, carried through the breeze. Her reaction was too slow to match it, as along the wind came the whine of an anti-material rifle firing. The raised arm with her shield system was blown clean off, the round having threaded the boundary between the forming energy weave and the armor panel of the limb to strike exactly where the structure was weakest.

The sort of shot that made could make a legend.

Which was why Erica was roaring gleefully and boosting forward, pushing through the damage with the guts of a veteran. There it was. There was that fire she wanted to play with.

She had to close the range. The Swallowtail must have made use of the smoke to activate the cloaking system and scurry away properly. Her fault a bit for gloating, but well, if that was what it took to finally bring out the kid’s talents, then maybe a little showboating now and then was alright. So long as she didn’t make it a habit out of this simulation.

Her cybernetic eyes locked on immediately to the slight distortion in the air and she wasted no time in firing with her laser rifle, shooting one-handed from the hip as thrusters roared. They soon sang in chorus as the Swallowtail boosted too, breaking its camouflage system as it engaged in the dance. The machine guns in its hands sprayed the advancing Saladin, trying to bring it down while the shoulder-mounted rifle ejected and cycled in a fresh shell.

However, the frame’s famed defenses didn’t just lay in advanced technology. The machine was built tough as well, boasting enough armor to shrug off light arms fire without much comment. All the pilot inside had to do was fight that instinct to duck for cover when return fire came, and aim for the hip.

A burst of laser shots punctured the already damaged segments and the limb finally broke, not longer able to sustain the weight. With only one leg, the Swallowtail’s balance was critically upset and the girl within again lacked the experience to recover from the blow. SSC machines were fast, yes, annoyingly so- but that could be exploited and turned against the ones within.

Again the steed crashed into a building, and this time Erica didn’t make the same mistake twice. That was for rookies, not veterans. She immediately stormed through obscuring smoke, striking out with the stock of her weapon and connecting with the opposing frame as it tried to make a quick getaway once again. She didn’t give it a chance when she smashed the other leg, thus leaving the bipedal without any further means of escape.

Ironically, if it had been the original recommended quadruped, it would still have another set of limbs to work with. Though it could be argued that they each would be much more fragile, the weight allocated between four meaning weaker supports while two simply gave much more mass. But that was a point for armchair strategists to debate over.

As for what soldiers on the battlefield cared about, that was it. “Alright,” Erica sounded out, nudging the cockpit with her weapon barrel, “Think that’s about it. Surrender if you would.”

She carefully watched both the arms and the shoulder-mounted AMR, not relaxing until Morgan replied back. “Yeah, I give. You got me.”

The match ended and the mercenary exhaled as the simulation warped and adjusted. Suddenly both steeds were whole again, standing on a pristine battlefield without any signs of conflict. “Right, so I’m curious: Did knocking your head suddenly make you better?” She bluntly asked, absently reaching down and plucking out a cigarette to stick in her mouth. It wasn’t actually going to be lit, the technicians would throw a fit if she smoked in one of the booths as it took forever to air out. “It didn’t feel like you were taking me seriously until I roughed you up a bit. What gives?”

“Ah, well, um…” The girl on screen fidgeted in her seat. “I don’t know. It just...came over me.”

“It what?”

“I mean, when we were starting, I kept telling myself it was just a friendly spar,” Morgan explained. “So I mean...I kept trying to avoid hurting you. Because one hit with this rifle in the cockpit and well, you’re not going to walk away from it.”

Erica frowned. “It’s a simulation Morgan. It’s not that realistic.”

“I know, but still. I was just hoping to get a chance to disable you-”

“Are you going to do the same if it’s on the real battlefield, if somebody’s coming for your throat?” she pressed with a growl. “If somebody’s charging right at you, bayonet ready to dig into your guts, you don’t have the luxury to think about their wife and kids at home. You don’t have the freedom to take your sweet time and aim for the legs.”

“You did!” She tried pointing out, but Erica chortled.

“And I moved to finish the job afterwards, because if it’d been a real battle? Depending on if there’s a squad coming down on me, I might not even have the chance to offer a surrender.” Stars, she really wanted to light this cigarette, talking to this kid.

Especially when it painfully sounded just like her so long ago, all starry-eyed and freshly signed up with the Colonial Legion. Before...everything.

“Just a quick double-tap, then keep moving.” Erica told, both to Morgan and herself. “Especially considering my damaged systems- which I’ll give to you, was pretty nifty. Though if you had the guts to aim for the head, I’d be a lot more impressed.”

The girl didn’t look so convinced, still looking resolutely stubborn in wishing to seek alternatives. Which was...weird, considering her genetic supersoldier background. Was she actively trying to hold herself back from going for the kill so often? Erica couldn’t say yet, she’d need to put her through a few more rounds to be sure.

Which was the entire point of being here, so best not waste more time. “Let’s get back into it.”

“Alright.” The young pilot exhaled, then flicked through her settings. “Here, I’ll set it up this time if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, pick whatever battlefield you like,” Erica absently told before blinking, eyes spying an interface that shouldn’t be open. “Wait, hold on, you need to enable private mode-”

The warning came too late. Morgan accidentally clicked initiate and suddenly, the two lancers were put into a virtual queue. Before Erica could cancel, the button grayed out with a happy little notification that the system had found them a team match. “Huh? Oh, um, oops.”

“Dammit kid.” Erica pulled at her face, then checked the opposition. An eyebrow arched up at the rather long list of tags there, definitely exceeding the simple pair which appeared on this side. “Huh. Looks like you accidentally enrolled us in some sort of company match-up.”

“Sorry!”

“It was an honest mistake, don’t bother. We can just resign and leave.” But as she was about to tap that button, she paused and sneaked a look over to the embarrassed junior. Hmm. “Though...maybe this is an opportunity to really see what you’ve got.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Think about it. You and me, against these chumps.” Sure, there were a lot of them, probably of varying skill. Which, if any of them were actual pros, just made it all the more fun. “How’s that sound?”

“I...I don’t know. I’m still new to the Swallowtail.” Morgan thought for a bit longer, then made up her decision. “But the only way I’m going to get better is if I keep at it, right? So I’ll give it a shot.”

A grin broke open on Erica’s face. “That’s the spirit. And remember- it’s a game. No need to hold back. Plus, odds are? They’re not from around here. So imagine that they’re like invaders or something, whatever gets you in the mood.”

“Noted.” Suddenly the air around Morgan seemed to shift, her expression morphing into the exact same one her uncle adopted whenever he faced a crisis. “Let’s protect our home.”

Now here was something properly fun. Erica cackled and decided to indulge, bringing out her lighter with one hand. With a casual flick, the cigarette in her mouth was finally lit and she felt the nicotine surge through her system. Smoke began to fill her booth, making it almost feel like the cockpit of her beloved Genghis.

Absolutely worth the earful the techies were going to give her later.