The Mech Touch

"We are not the Larkinson Clan."

When people spoke of the Golden Skull Alliance, they mostly referred to the Larkinson Clan.

How could they not? The Larkinson Clan was young yet had risen rapidly in terms of wealth, size, prestige, innovation, industry and battle honors.

Led by a brilliant Journeyman Mech Designer with a daring mindset and a constantly expanding bag of tricks in his arsenal, the Larkinsons had managed to become a force to be reckoned with in less than a decade.

This was an admirable accomplishment and one that should not be diminished. Patriarch Ves Larkinson started from almost nothing and built up an organization of hundreds and thousands of loyal and highly competent clansmen. There were a near endless amount of humans in both the Milky Way and the Red Ocean, but scarcely any of them could replicate the success of a former citizen of a third-rate state.

Of course, having spent years fighting and traveling alongside the Larkinsons had given Patriarch Reginald Cross a more thorough understanding of them than a bunch of outsiders.

What he knew about Ves and his expanding collection of quirky personalities only made the expert pilot respect the mech designer even more.

"That does not mean that we should continue to allow them to take the lead." Patriarch Reginald said as he folded his arms behind his back.

The leader of the Cross Clan stood before a window that provided him with an expansive view of the Cross Production Complex.

Despite their differences, the Crossers shared some of the same traumas and paranoia of the Larkinsons, hence their main compound on Davute VII was built like a fortress as well.

Even when Davute looked peaceful and idyllic to everyone's eyes, Patriarch Reginald did not let down his guard, and he hoped his fellow Crossers would also maintain their vigilance.

"War is the natural state of the cosmos."

Reginald had grown up in a state where conflict was frequent. Fights broke out due to all sorts of reasons. The strong plundered their way to the top while the weak succumbed to the pressure.

Was there any injustice in this? The Cross Patriarch did not think so. This was the natural course of life. In an environment where resources were scarce, only a part of the population could enjoy the spoils.

It would be a greater injustice to allow the weak to devour the resources that could make a group stronger!

If such a pattern took place on a large scale, then the entire race would ultimately grow weaker and more vulnerable. The people who were a part of this race might feel good about it, but that would not avail them at all when a stronger race who believed in the primacy of might came in and drove them to extinction!

"Survival. Survival is the first priority that anyone should have. Those who lose sight of the struggle they are in are… fools."

In his brief stay in the Red Ocean, Patriarch Reginald encountered many of such fools. Sure, many pioneers and colonists were initially vigilant when they passed through the greater beyonder gate, but as soon as they built a semblance of civilization, they eased their concerns and began to think about other concerns.

Fools.

The Red Ocean was just as dangerous if not more than the old galaxy. Peace was a lie that only comforted the soft. To someone who was born and raised in conflict, peace was a false blanket that offered no protection as soon as times grew more turbulent.

His strong willpower pulsed with conviction. The peaceful planet known as Davute was not his home to him. In his eyes, it was merely a place where his clan could temporarily rest and recuperate.

As for all of the money being spent to build the Cross Production Complex? Money and resources were ultimately consumable. What truly mattered was converting these useless goods into real strength.

The CPC existed to funnel mechs, mech pilots, supplies, starships and other essential war material to the Cross fleet.

As long as the Cross Clan maintained a strong fleet, it would retain the capital it needed to survive the new frontier!

"Fleets are harder to pin down."

Patriarch Reginald had vowed to never repeat the mistakes that led to the initial downfall of the Cross Clan. From turning one's back to unreliable allies to gathering the bulk of his clan's population and assets on fixed planets, all of these decisions only magnified the ruination of the Crossers.

Fortunately, with destruction came rebirth.

From the ashes of the old clan, a new one had risen.

The modern Cross Clan looked similar to the old one, but the survivors implemented many changes.

"We will be ready this time."

Patriarch Reginald had to be ready for anything. Whether the native alien races of the Red Ocean launched a suicidal reprisal action or whether every pioneer in the Red Ocean turned against the Cross Clan one day, it was better to be ready than to sink into complacency again.

It was difficult for him to maintain this stance and keep his clan in a vigilant state. Many of his fellow Crossers, especially the large number of recruits that had recently joined his ranks, did not personally experience the times of betrayal and persecution that still haunted the original members of his clan.

Still, both new and old Crossers listened to him, and that was mainly because of one reason.

He was the strongest warrior of the clan.

The strongest surviving one, at least. His expression soured when he thought of his father. He clutched the large and blocky metal cross that hung on his neck like a prisoner's chain.

The weight of the relic did not bother him at all. It was comforting to him. Aside from keeping a remnant of his father close to him at all times, the literal burden it imposed on his body constantly reminded him of the figurative burden that he had taken on when he stepped up to lead his clan.

It was that sense of duty that prompted Patriarch Reginald to stop his introspection and turn to more relevant business.

"Professor." The expert pilot spoke as he reined in his surging will and turned to the older man who was sitting at the conference table. "Tell me about the developments of our clan."

"We have initiated a great expansion that will see us grow several times stronger in the coming years." Professor Benedict Cortez efficiently explained. "We have made huge investments in both our mech and mech component industries. The Cross Production Complex will be our first but certainly not our last planetary branch that we shall set up in the new frontier. While it costs the equivalent of tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of MTA credits to build these large-scale production sites, our investment will eventually pay off, allowing us to continue the expansion of our military capabilities."

"That is, until a great enemy comes and bombs our facilities into ruin." Reginald remarked.

The Senior Mech Designer nodded. "That is a possibility. If you live long enough, then suffering losses is an inevitability. That should not stop us from building our own industries. Every organization needs to pay their bills. We cannot rely on high-risk expeditions such as the Purgatory Campaign to cover our growing expenses in the long term. We must establish sustainable businesses that can continually supply us with funding. As long as we have money, we have power. If we do not have any revenue source at all, then our mechs will rot, our starships will break down and our men will go hungry."

Professor Benedict was exaggerating a bit. Even without any sustainable businesses, the Cross Clan could still earn enough money to cover its basic needs. The Crossers merely had to take advantage of their military might and either go into the mercenary business or plunder another party's riches.

However, even the Cross Patriarch acknowledged that this was not a way to sustain a clan. The Crossers needed to engage in at least some productive activity to survive in the long term.

"What are the prospects of our mech business and our other businesses?"

"Our Cross Mech Corporation will not become a major player in the regional mech market for the time being." Professor Benedict frankly admitted. "As a Senior, my work is not remarkable enough to compete in the big leagues. There are many Masters and other talented mech designers who are able to publish more desirable mech designs than me. I do not think I need to elaborate about the Larkinsons."

Both the patriarch and the head developer of the Cross Clan acknowledged the strength and usefulness of the Larkinson Clan's mechs. It was only natural for the market to embrace these products as well.

This left the Crossers at an awkward position, though. Professor Benedict may be a capable and experienced Senior Mech Designer, but his design philosophy was not able to provide as much added value to his mech designs as the Larkinson Patriarch!

As a result, the business prospects of the Cross Mech Corporation were not optimistic. Without developing a killer product that could capture a significant amount of market share in any product category, the company would basically remain as a marginal existence in Davute.

"That is because you are too weak." Patriarch Reginald pointed out. "If you became a Master Mech Designer…"

"Then everything will change." Professor Benedict said as his eyes blazed with desire and ambition.

Both of them possessed the same attitude towards life. As long as they advanced their respective professions, they would have the strength to survive and pursue their greater ambitions!

The Cross Patriarch let out a sigh. "Very well. I will allow you to invest our clan's resources into the Cross Mech Corporation in the hopes that it will be of greater use to you when you finally reach your goal. I hope it will not slow down our overall development for the time being."

"You need not be concerned about that. The CMC at least provides us with a greater platform to develop and produce mechs that service our own needs. Compared to relying on mechs sold by external parties, it is better for our men to rely on products designed with their needs and the needs of our clan in mind. We will be able to completely renew our clan's mech roster within two years."

"That is good news. What of our other major business?"

Professor Benedict smiled. "Our Cross Development Center may still be in its infancy, but it is growing rapidly. It is much easier for us to expand its scale and increase the quantity and quality of our products by spending a massive amount of capital. We have bought out two-dozen development companies and research institutions at this time and we will doubtlessly continue with this until we have reached a substantial scale in the regional economy."

"I see. Well, continue onwards." Reginald spoke in an indifferent tone.

He did not care too much about the CDC because it was rooted in fixed locations. If necessary, his clan needed to be ready to abandon all of those assets. That was why the Cross Patriarch did not develop much of an attachment to any of these industries.

"Will our development company be able to produce any strong mech parts that are able to provide our mechs with an advantage on the battlefield?"

"That… is difficult to say. There are many new possibilities in the Red Ocean, but R&D can be a hit or miss. We have yet to hire any top researchers and developers who are most proficient at inventing qualitatively superior solutions. The most we can do is partner with other established institutions."

"Work on it. The Larkinsons are able to rely on their growing specialties to make their mechs stronger. Our clan must not fall too far behind."

"We shall work on it." Professor Benedict promised. "Our development company will be able to provide much greater benefits if I manage to realize my design philosophy, but we can partially make up for it with money."

Patriarch Reginald wondered how much money the Cross Clan would have left after completing all of these business investments.