Humanity's Greatest Mecha Warrior System-Novel

One month flew by faster than Max had expected, and now they were onto the part 48 hours before landfall on Kepler 111. Everything that needed to be filled out and filed had already been sent to the Planetary Government for processing, with the results of their procurement requests as well as the list of their new members expected any minute now.

All five officers were waiting in the office that Max had turned into his de facto office lately, while the rest of the ship was in full celebration mode. Tonight the ship would party well into the night, and then tomorrow they would sleep half the day away while adjusting to the local time zone at the spaceport where they would be landing.

Near the military port was the planet’s largest civilian port, where the trade ships would land to bring and buy goods. The traders were a fun bunch in Max’s estimation, at least the ones that frequented the port on Kepler Terminus where he grew up were. The Empire had been at war for years, and the risk of attacks on trade vessels was high, so only the bravest would volunteer for the job, even with the seemingly insane amounts that it paid.

The slums weren’t far from the spaceport on Kepler Terminus, since nobody wanted to live near the noise of landing ships, the smells of bulk products, or the pollution of the outdated heavy industrial equipment that processed it for interstellar transport. But that just meant that the traders would often wander into the slums for a bit of fun. Drinking, gambling, and other vices were easy to find in Max’s old neighborhood, and they all drew in the traders.

Max was too young to be of interest to them, they wanted skilled veterans, not kids from the downside who might never have a skill worth mentioning, but that didn’t stop Max from listening in on their thoughts when he went for walks with Dave during his youth._.

That’s how Max learned that only Kepler citizens have the system. Not all other nations are enemies, so not all traders come from Kepler. Many of the traders were not quite human or had exotic appearances like nothing that Max had ever seen on his planet before. Those ones were also harder for him to read, and he couldn’t get as much detail from them, since their bodies had no Nanotechnology within them that his Innate Talent could work with.

He could still get some things, though, especially when they were on the open-air balconies of the taverns in the afternoon when the heat made it unbearable to be inside any building without the climate control that the homes of the wealthy had. Now, Max understands, that it was a normal thing for everyone to have and that the slums were the exception, but at the time, Max viewed it as something very highbrow and amazing, to not have to sweat in the afternoon heat every day of the year.

Max is drawn from his reverie and back to the conversation the others are having by a thought from Nico. She has obtained an image of the Light Mecha staging area and found their new units. Just like they hoped, they managed to obtain thirty Corvette Class Mecha, all painted in the bone and bronze Max chose, with red accents.

Standing among the dull olive green of the rest of the units leaving the planet, they look glorious, elite, and distinct without being flashy, making Max proud of his choice. He was hoping that she would grab an image of the Crusaders as well, but either the cameras there are down, or they are on a closed-circuit loop and not available to the planetary net that Nico pulled the parade ground images from.

That does make sense though, light mecha aren’t exactly a secret, even the traders usually have a few on their ships from civilian sources, modified for combat. But the mighty heavy mecha are much more heavily guarded, to keep the nation’s true strength secret.

Looking more closely, these Corvettes are a different pattern than the ones that the 42nd armored has. Instead of being tall and blocky, they are elegantly curved, and nearly human in proportions, with a swept-back top dome that looks a lot like a racer’s helmet and will give more room than usual for sensors.

“Now that’s a nice change to see. We actually got new build Corvettes. See the rounded hulls? That pattern came from the Commorian conglomerate that merged with Kepler only a decade ago. All of their mecha are exceptionally agile, and the armor is really good, despite looking so slender and delicate.” Nico points out the various features on the screen as she goes, and then they all inspect the weaponry.

These mecha have dual hands and hold their weapons, unlike the Crusader Class Mecha that they all use, but there are two shoulder-mounted energy weapons on them. Only the barrels seem to be above the hull of the chest armor, on a pivot for increased firing options, giving them a low profile inside the rather organic-looking curved armor shell.

“Hey, since all the new Corvettes are Commorian designs, you don’t suppose that the new Crusaders will also be Commorian pattern heavy mecha do you?” Vincente asks, so eager that he is stumbling over his words.

The heavy mecha of that pattern share the same lithe and curved design that the new Corvettes do, and are much more agile than the Redemption Pattern that the two existing units are built from, though they’re not quite as fast in top running speed as the Stalker Pattern that the Tarith’s Rage was built on. They also have better thrusters, allowing them to leap over obstacles more easily, as well as more agility for space-based combat.

The only really strange thing about them is that they like to forearm mount the heavy weapons, which gives them the benefit of a small hand, but puts the recoil off-center, so they can be a bit of a pain with projectile weapons.

That might be too much to ask for. The weaponized limbs of the Redemption Pattern mecha, with their durable top armor shell, have served well for centuries, and it seems unlikely that their newly founded units will get so lucky as to obtain even one of them much less three brand new mecha. After all, the amount of money and resources required to build an entirely new unit is enormous. It is much more common for a planet to reuse the mecha from the returning veterans to supplement their departing units, after a hasty refurbishment.

That is a large part of the reason that Kepler forces put so much effort into recovering their downed mecha. Not because they are sacred or anything, but simply because it isn’t cost-effective to entirely replace them when the majority of a destroyed unit can be made into a new one.

Their unit roster comes in while they are admiring the new Corvettes, and again, it is no surprise at all, and just as bad as Max had feared.

Thirty Corvette Class pilots, all graduates of the Special Forces program of the local university. Looking closely, they have all graduated from the academy in the last 12 months, so they don’t even have real experience on planetary defense patrols. Then there is the company of infantry. Unlike the pilots, these soldiers did not go to university. They are all fresh from the academy, with ten Sergeants pulled from the Planetary defense and one Commanding officer from the local Mayor’s security defense team.

“Captain Catan?” Max asks, pointing out the officer’s name on the roster. It’s the same as Bravo Company’s commanding officer, so there is a very good chance that the two are related.

Nico gives Max a nod and starts tapping away at the computer. “I’m on it, let’s see here. Graduated from the Academy 9 years ago, just missing the recruitment. Kepler 111 is a heavy agriculture world, with a very mediocre track record for pilots and soldiers, so they have been excused from most of their recruitments in exchange for more agricultural tithes.

He has an excellent track record with the local police, and then the Mayor’s personal security. But there must be a reason for his transfer, there are lots of other officers to choose from. Yes, here it is. eleven children under the age of eight, with nine different mothers. It looks here like his entire salary as a Security officer wasn’t enough to cover the support payments, so he volunteered for the Commander’s role. While he serves, the military will pay benefits to all his children, and afterward, they will all be old enough that they have gone to the academy, freeing him from the financial obligations.”

“So what you’re saying is that he fits right in and we should both be very careful of his smooth-talking?” Ari laughs, making Max snort as he tries to avoid joining her merriment.

“Considering the fact that you could both handily whoop him if he gets out of line? Yes. It is definitely his charm you need to be careful of. He scored amazingly well in close combat skills, and leadership abilities, but his system Compatibility is D Rank, and even then it would likely have been considered F rank on Kepler Terminus.” Max agrees.

“Terminus has so many talented pilots that they can afford to F Rank kids who actually have some sort of System Talent?” Paul asks, in awe at the power level of Max’s home planet.

“Yeah, ours likes to D Rank kids who have no system but have enough strength to pass infantry training.” Vincente agrees.

That’s practically suicidal for them, in Max’s opinion. D Rank might not be much, but by the end of the academy’s training, they should at least have 50 percent added stats in total, making them a good bit stronger and faster than their peers. With all their infantry coming from the Special Forces training, Max is fairly confident that won’t be the case for them, but it doesn’t give him much hope for the rest of the quarter-million souls being sent into orbit to fight and die.