The Mech Touch novel Chapter 635

The Flagrant Vandals and Lydia’s Swordmaidens divided the spoils among themselves, with the former claiming the biggest share. This was what they deserved, as they fought harder and accomplished more.

The cost had been significant as well. The Vandals tallied the damage, and it became clear that while they hadn’t lost a lot of men or mechs, some of their assets gained a lot of deep scars.

"It’s frigging awful." Chief Engineer Avanaeon spat as Ves paid a visit to him down at the engineering bay. The chief read through scores of damage reports. The Shield of Hispania alone looked as if a gigantic tiger had ripped its molten claws throughout her entire hull. "We just fixed up the Shield’s armor belt at Harkensen III. Now we’re halfway back to square one. Damn the major, a combat carrier isn’t a tower shield to be flaunted around whenever someone shoots at us!"

The other engineers and nodded in agreement. While the mech pilots and mech technicians celebrated the clean victory, the ship crewmembers all seemed disgruntled at the decision to put the combat carriers at risk. Just because they had been designed to take a beating didn’t mean they needed to be deployed as supersized knight mechs.

A carrier was a mothership. A hive for mechs to come home to roost. Conventional doctrine called for carriers to stay as far away from the fighting as possible. Heavily-armored combat carriers provided some exceptions to the rule, but they only applied in special situations.

"Well, it’s better to lose some armor plating than some lives." Ves replied. Though he sympathised with the enormous workload the ship caretakers had to go through, he was on the side of Major Verle for once. "Lives are much more precious than inanimate objects. The combat carriers will live."

"I don’t disagree with you." Avanaeon waved his hands in emphasis. "It’s just that fixing this battle damage is going to take another stint in a drydock. Will the higher ups agree to that?"

"According to what I know, that’s extremely unlikely. We are bound for the frontier and we won’t let anything hinder us. You’ll have to fix up the Shield while we’re on the move, most likely."

The only times they could go out and fix the armor plating was to go out in space while the fleet transitioned out of FTL and entered a cooldown cycle. Perhaps their ships would linger in the material dimensions for a while longer in order to mine some asteroids, but other than that they needed to hurry through the frontier as fast as possible.

Ves understood their pain, because he had to live with the same logistical constraints. There would be no respite after they departed the Harkensen System. They would navigate towards the frontier and cross the invisible dividing line that marked the end of civilized space.

They would find no succor in the untamed stars that lay beyond. Pirates, sandmen and other threats made their home there. What space stations existed there were ramshackle constructions that provided inferior services to the worst examples of mankind. The Swordmaidens may be welcome in such pirate ports, but the Vandals would be greeted as enemies.

No matter how many people referred to them as pirates, the truth was that they were firmly fighting on behalf of a state. They did so openly and took up the mantle of responsibility, however threadbare it appeared.

This mantle was an anathema to pirates and every other kind of scum in the frontier. No matter where they traveled, every frontiersmen would regard them at interlopers as best, and mortal enemies as worst.

This was also why the alliance with Lydia’s Swordmaidens was so crucial to the Vandals. They were intrinsically part of the frontier and knew all of the major players. Their connections with the pirates and other organizations that made themselves home at this chaotic region of space would save them a lot of grief.

"They say that a delegation of Lydia’s Swordmaidens are on their way to our ship soon." Avanaeon remarked. "Half of my men are drooling at the sight. The recordings some of us managed to obtain from the galactic net sure makes them out as.. Exotic."

Ves had glanced at the same images. "They look tribal. As if humanity has regressed by a dozen ages. They sure like to show off their martial prowess."

Their clothing revealed much about their culture. It was undeniably based around personal strength. Commander Lydia stood at the top, while the ranks further down were based on which Swordmaiden had the biggest fist.

Such a crude method of determining their hierarchy worked up to a point. If the Swordmaidens consisted more than several thousand women, then the limitations of this method became increasingly apparent.

Not that it mattered. The Swordmaidens seem content at their current numbers.

"By the way, Larkinson, I appreciate the social call, but you didn’t drop by just to chat, right? I know you. If you aren’t working, you’re doing something that’s related to your work. You have to learn to ease up, man."

Ves chuckled a bit. This wasn’t the first time someone accused him of being a workaholic. "I’m hardly the mech designer you are making me out for. Don’t I join your little game sessions every once in a while?"

"That doesn’t count. We all know you’re only present because you can squeeze some secrets out of us. We don’t mind, of course. We do the same to you."

"Hey, it’s not all about that. I’m having fun as well with the game. Pirate Empires has taught me a lot."

Even though it was just a silly game, it had given him a taste of what every kind of outfit had to struggle with.

Pirate groups needed to keep themselves afloat at the edge of civilization.

Treasure hunters dug up at least nine duds before they came across something good enough to pay off their debts.