The next morning, Rennick woke up groggily, dragging his feet across the cluttered floor of his room. His half-lidded eyes barely registered the mess around him—until his little toe slammed directly into a wrench lying dead center on the floor.
"Aagh—OW!" he yelped, stumbling backward and clutching his foot. "Damn it! Who the hell threw a wrench in the middle of the room—!?"
He glared at the offending tool, then sighed when realization dawned. "Right. That was me..."
Grumbling, he kicked the wrench into a corner with vengeance and limped his way into the bathroom. After freshening up, he stepped onto the small balcony, a bowl of cereal in one hand and a comm device in the other.
The view that greeted him, however, was enough to wash away the last dregs of irritation.
The morning breeze rolled in gentle waves, carrying with it the scent of dew and distant earth. Below him, sloping hills stretched out in a patchwork of green, dotted with trees that rustled softly. Farmland followed the base of the hills, where brown and gold fields glistened under the rising sun. Overhead, clouds drifted lazily, casting shifting shadows that danced across the land. Beyond it all, the silver outline of Tamaro's city towers shimmered on the horizon.
Rennick sat down on a weathered chair and dipped his spoon into the bowl.
He tapped his comm. The screen blinked, then connected.
"Hey! How's my favourite mech designer doing?" Freddy's voice rang out, cheerful—a little too cheerful.
Rennick raised an eyebrow and kept chewing. "You don't have to act so cringe this early, old man. I didn't call to lecture you again. I know mechs are meant for battle and they get damaged while doing that."
Freddy relaxed visibly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, that's a relief. I half expected another sermon. Then, what'stge reason for the call?"
"I wanted to ask what type of mech you want," Rennick said, leaning back as his dark hair fluttered in the breeze. "We looked over the frame yesterday. There's almost nothing salvageable aside from the partial skeletal structure and a few old subsystems. And most of those are legacy tech."
Freddy's expression grew more serious. "That bad, huh?"
Rennick simply nodded.
"Well… if we can keep the cost down, I'd appreciate it," Freddy said after a pause. "As for the mech type… I'll need to check with Freya first. See what she prefers to pilot and where her strengths lie."
Rennick blinked. "Wait. You don't even know what discipline your niece is training in? And you were just going to hand her a mech like it's a birthday gift?"
Freddy looked away casually. "Details, details."
Rennick stared at him, an eye twitch beginning to form. "You—"
"Relax, kid. I'll get back to you by afternoon," Freddy said quickly, waving a hand and ending the call before Rennick could launch into another tirade.
The comm screen blinked to black.
Rennick sighed and tossed it lightly onto the table beside him. The breeze picked up slightly, tousling his hair as he finished the last few bites of cereal.
"Sure. No pressure. Just designing an entirely new mech from a dead shell… with no specs."
Still chewing, he picked up his datapad and began jotting down notes.
'The internal frame's in pretty decent shape for a mech this damaged. Should be recoverable. Legacy subsystems like inertial nav and some sensors are still functional. Might be able to repurpose them. But I'll need donor parts for the comm systems and the cooling assembly. Life support needs a full check too. The cockpit is… gone.'
He grimaced, remembering how he'd pried the warped chassis open yesterday.
"I'll need a new neural interface. Better to buy one fresh—no taking chances there," he muttered aloud.
Neural interfaces were the most critical part of a mech—connecting the pilot's nervous system directly to the machine. Even a minor fault could cascade into catastrophic failure. It wasn't something to skimp on.
He was still running rough cost estimates when his comm rang again. It was Freddy.
Rennick picked it up.
"So, what did you decide on?" he asked.
Freddy nodded. "Yeah, she said she's training to be a knight mech pilot. More specifically, an offensive swordsman knight mech."
Rennick blinked, then grinned slightly. "Well, that's good news for you. I won't have to do much structural rework—the original frame was designed for a knight-class chassis. As for the rest…" He glanced at the numbers on his datapad and did some quick calculations. "It's going to cost about... 6 million Seed credits."
Freddy hummed thoughtfully. "Bit more than I expected. But considering the damage, I guess I should've seen it coming, right, brother?"
He turned off-screen as if consulting someone beside him, then nodded and returned to the call.
"Alright. I'll transfer the money. Just send me the full bill of materials when you've finalized it."
Rennick nodded. "Will do."
He was about to end the call when something tickled at the back of his mind.
"Oh—by the way," he asked, "who named the mech Westhaven Guardian?"
Freddy smiled faintly, a rare note of nostalgia in his expression. "Our mother did. She was a writer. It was a character from one of the books she was working on back then."
Rennick raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Why do you ask?" Freddy said, blinking out of the memory.
"Just got curious," Rennick replied, smiling. "Haven't heard of any place called Westhaven. And it felt like a pretty heavy name for the poor crumpled mech lying in your hangar."
Freddy chuckled. "Yeah. The state it's in now certainly doesn't live up to the name."
Someone beckoned to him from off-screen. Freddy turned briefly, then looked back at the camera.
"Alright, Rennick. You go ahead and start working on the mech. I've got a few things to handle on my end. Talk to you later."
The comm call ended.
Rennick set the device down, the name still rolling around in his head like an echo from an old story.
Westhaven Guardian…
"So… making a proper knight mech—which is usually a defensive type—into an offensive Swordsman, huh…" Rennick muttered as he walked to his terminal and booted it up. He stretched slightly, rolled his shoulders, and opened the MTA portal to start searching for parts.
Just then, a voice rang out from outside the house.
"Boss! Open the door!" Jean shouted.
Rennick broke away from his thoughts and leaned out the window.
"You already know it's open! Just come in," he called back.
Moments later, Jean swung the door open and marched in with his usual cheeky grin. "I know, I just yell in case I walk in on something traumatizing."
Rennick mock-scowled and smacked him lightly on the head. "Just what kind of nonsense goes on in that thick skull of yours?"
"Stuff," Jean said with a laugh, rubbing his head. "So? What did Freddy say?"
"A swordsman mech," Rennick replied, turning back to his terminal opening the design file of Westhaven Guardian. "And that brings us to our next step—we need to scavenge a compatible power reactor and engine from the donor pile in the workshop."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "Wait, so we're not designing it from scratch? I thought with how wrecked it was, we'd be building a fresh frame."
Rennick shook his head. "Not quite. We're not making a brand-new design from the ground up—we're restoring the old frame, but heavily reworking it. Think of it like this: the original Westhaven Guardian was a knight mech meant for defense. Now we're adapting it into a variant—a swordsman mech. So, we are essentially making a variant of Westhaven Guardian."
Jean's eyes lit up. "So we are designing it… just differently!"
"Exactly. But with our limited budget," Rennick added, "we'll have to tailor the design around the components we already have. Now go check what engines and reactors are viable—I need a list, fast."
"On it, Boss!" Jean gave him a salute before dashing out excitedly toward the workshop.
Rennick smiled, watching him go. He turned back toward the terminal where the partially opened design file of Westhaven Guardian shimmered on the screen.
He hovered his hand over the input pad, deep in thought.
Should I try it again? That image technique…
His fingers curled slightly, remembering the technique Ves used in the novel. It hadn't worked until now—but maybe this time? Ves had done it. Over and over again.
"This time might be the one," Rennick murmured, a small grin forming on his face.
He closed his eyes and breathed in the cool morning breeze.
Westhaven Guardian... a protector turned blade. The name may have been heavy, but maybe... it's time it earned it.