The Mech Touch novel Chapter 417

By the time Ves biometrically signed the twenty-odd documents, his fingers almost cramped up. Some organizations were content with scanning the DNA or the pupils of a person, but the Mech Corps adhered to a much more rigorous standard.

The sheer amount of actions Ves needed to do to sign each document was a struggle in itself. The Mech Corps was determined to prevent any mech designers from committing fraud or misrepresenting the truth.

Ves understood why, of course. Mech designers primarily designed mechs, but were capable engineers as well. They used to pull off all kinds of tricks, from hacking the devices that held the virtual documents and changing their clauses, to putting forth a remote-controlled android to serve in their stead.

The most extreme example actually consisted of a spoiled brat who ordered the kidnapping of another mech designer. Gruesome surgery turned the victim’s body into a clone of the spoiled brat, while extremely brutal brainwashing slowly turned his personality into a passable imitation of the mastermind.

The entire scheme actually stood a good chance of working because the Mech Corps didn’t perform invasive inspections back then. The doppelganger dutifully pretended to be someone else and while some may have held some suspicions, no one realized the truth.

The only reason why it fell through was because the spoiled brat showed himself in public when one of his parties went out of control. People quickly started to scratch their heads why this good-for-nothing mech designer could be in two places at once. Wasn’t he working on debugging mechs in some isolated research base?

"Go on ahead and wait for inspection."

Ves moved on and followed the guide to a closed-off modular clinic. Throughout the rest of the day, he went through an extensive amount of tests. Due to his abnormal body, he enjoyed increased scrutiny and had to endure a lot more tests despite the existence of records that told the exact same story.

"We just want to be sure we got the right person." A doctor muttered when Ves asked why.

The Mech Corps wasn’t interested in the potentially miraculous effects of his Jutland organ. Instead, they held a lot of concern about its unknown functioning and the intentions of its creator. Who knew what kind of biological programming it contained.

Ves came across the first obstacle then and there.

"You’ll have to stay back, Mr. Larkinson." The doctor said as he furrowed at the inconclusive results in the reports. "We can let you go through the next steps of your initiation until we have received some assurances that you aren’t carrying anything that might prove to be a detriment."

Ves expected that something like this might happen. "I can refer you to Master Olson’s representative. He can vouch for me."

"That will help a lot!"

In cases like this where the Mech Corps lacked the means to resolve the issue, they would normally hold back the mech designer in question and dither on their assignments. Ves wanted to avoid such an awful fate, so he already prepared something beforehand.

He raised his comm and sent out the contact details for Horatio. "This is the contact for Master Olson’s steward. He takes care of all her administrative issues and knows about my situation."

The doctor retreated and corresponded with Horatio. Ves couldn’t eavesdrop on their conversation, but he had no doubt that the most contentious issues would be waved away.

After all, Ves was not the only mech designer here with connections to a foreign state. The Friday Coalition was a behemoth compared to the Republic, so the latter had no choice but to swallow every pill served in its mouth.

Some time later, the doctor returned and wordlessly nodded his head at Ves to move onwards.

"Thanks."

Although the experience was a little awkward, and the Mech Corps would never fully trust him, Ves knew that he had cleared the most essential hurdle.

He went through a final inspection where some bots stripped all of his clothes and belongings and issued him a bland, grey replacement outfit along with the most primitive comm he had ever seen.

"This thing doesn’t even have a single app installed besides a clock."

After that, Ves reached a dormitory area where a handful of mech designers bunked inside small modular rooms erected for the purpose. He entered a room only to meet three unfamiliar faces.

"Look at what we have here! The latecomer has arrived!"

"Took you long enough!"

"You missed dinner, but we saved some for you."

Ves smiled and went inside and took a seat at the square table in the middle. "Thank you, I’m starving."

Dinner in this case consisted of nothing more than a bland, stale nutrient pack along with lots of water to hydrate his stomach.

"Is this it?" Ves frowned. "It looks rather... bare."

Even prisoners got to enjoy reconstituted food that used nutrient packs as raw materials. Serving the dry bars of unidentifiable biological matter without any processing was jokingly considered as a borderline war crime. He introduced himself as Morgan Hollenfield.

One of the three mech designers sighed. He was a middle-aged man with dark brown hair and looked a lot older than the other two.

"The Mech Corps wants to show who’s boss around here. We only get to enjoy the nutrient packs as breakfast, lunch and dinner until we go through what they call their lightest version of boot camp."

Everyone frowned at that. As a rule, mech designers were nerds and geeks. What did physical fitness have to do with how well they designed their mechs?

"It’s another way to put us down!" A younger man burst out. "Those jumped-up mech pilots always think they are in charge, and want to drive in the point that we are their slaves!"