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(A/N: Hello everyone, I have a new novel out named Transmigrated As High Elf In Skyrim go check it out! I know I know I have to much now, literally six novels, but hey as long as I can make it and give it to you guys, who am I to protest right?! Of course this also actually helped clear my head because I have a new source to made, so don't worry and please give me your comments or reviewed if you like it, have a constructive criticism, and lastly, please no need for personal insult if doesn't like it thank you! Oh also don't forget the power stones and put in you library for support if you like it!)
And in that simple phrase lived recognition, trust, and the unspoken understanding that the Republic stood strong not because of one leader, but because of all of them.
The next day began more quietly.
No alarms. No emergency briefings. No sudden shifts in posture or tension snapping through Sanctuary like a pulled wire.
Instead, it began with routine.
The kind of routine Sico trusted more than calm, because routine meant systems were holding. It meant people were doing their jobs without needing to be reminded why they mattered.
Morning light spilled across Sanctuary in long, gentle bands, catching on metal rooftops, solar panels, and the slow movement of guards rotating off night watch. Farmers were already out in the fields beyond the perimeter, silhouettes bending and straightening in practiced rhythms. Children ran past water pumps with laughter that felt unforced, real. Merchants were opening shutters, counting caps, arguing cheerfully over prices that hadn't even been set yet.
Life.
That, more than any flag or speech, was what the Republic existed to protect.
Sico stood at the window of his office in the Freemasons HQ for a moment longer than necessary, coffee cooling in his hand as he watched it all unfold. He allowed himself that rare pause. Not indulgence. Reflection.
Yesterday had been heavy with decisions that would ripple forward for years. Today, he knew, would plant something just as consequential, even if it didn't feel dramatic yet.
Air support.
The thought lingered as he turned away from the window and moved toward the meeting room.
Conference Room B was smaller than A. More intimate. Less ceremonial. It was where ideas were born before they were strong enough to face the wider leadership council. The walls bore old maps layered atop one another, pinned notes, scribbled equations that no one had bothered to erase because they still mattered.
Mel was already there, unsurprisingly. He stood near the whiteboard, sleeves rolled up, marker in hand, frowning thoughtfully at a half-finished sketch that looked like a bird made of scrap metal and ambition.
Magnolia sat at the table, posture composed, fingers folded neatly around a mug of tea. Her gaze drifted between Mel's sketch and the open ledger in front of her, mind clearly working through numbers even before they'd been spoken.
Preston leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, hat tipped back slightly. He looked relaxed, but Sico knew better. Preston only leaned when he was thinking hard.
Sarah stood near the window, arms folded, eyes scanning outside instinctively before turning as Sico entered.
"Morning," Sico said.
"Morning," Preston replied.
"Good morning," Magnolia added warmly.
Mel didn't look up. "If this meeting is about convincing me not to build something that flies, I'm already offended."
Sico huffed a quiet laugh as he took his seat. "That depends. How likely is it to explode?"
Mel finally turned, lips twitching. "On the first attempt? Very."
"Honesty is appreciated," Sico said.
Sarah moved toward the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down, posture straight. "You didn't call us in for jokes," she said. "What's on your mind?"
Sico let the room settle. He'd learned not to rush moments like this. Ideas needed air before they could grow.
"We're facing a future where ground superiority won't be enough," he began calmly. "The Brotherhood knows it. They've built their doctrine around it."
Preston nodded slowly. "Vertibirds changed everything."
"They did," Sico agreed. "Rapid deployment. Air strikes. Psychological dominance."
Magnolia's eyes sharpened slightly. "And fear," she said quietly. "There's nothing quite like the sound of rotors overhead to make civilians feel powerless."
Sico met her gaze. "Exactly."
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.
"I don't want the Freemasons Republic to depend on the AA Gun forever," he said. "And I don't want our settlements watching the skies and hoping the wrong shadow doesn't pass overhead."
Sarah's jaw tightened. "You're talking about building our own air support."
"Yes," Sico said simply.
The word settled into the room.
Not with shock.
With gravity.
Preston straightened a little. "Aircraft?" he asked. "Or something closer to Vertibirds?"
"Something functional," Sico replied. "Something we can deploy for patrol reinforcement, rapid response, evacuation, and—if necessary—precision strikes."
Mel's eyes lit up like a generator kicking online.
"I knew it," he said, stepping toward the whiteboard. "I knew this day would come."
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "You look too happy about this."
Mel grinned unabashedly. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for someone to authorize this kind of insanity?"
Magnolia smiled faintly. "I'm guessing longer than is healthy."
Mel tapped the marker against the board. "The Brotherhood Vertibirds are crude in some ways," he said. "Effective, yes. But inefficient. Overengineered in places, underthought in others."
Sico leaned back slightly. "Can we build our own?"
Mel didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he turned back to the board and began sketching more deliberately.
"Not from scratch," he said finally. "Not safely."
Sarah leaned forward. "Explain."
"The Vertibird design is a hybrid," Mel said. "Tilt-rotor VTOL, fusion-assisted power systems, reinforced armor plating. We can replicate portions, improve others… but we need reference."
Preston frowned. "Meaning?"
Mel turned to face them fully now. "Meaning I need access to crashed Vertibirds."
The room went still.
"Intact?" Magnolia asked carefully.
"As intact as possible," Mel replied. "Even wreckage would help. Structural stress points. Rotor assemblies. Control systems. Anything."
Sarah nodded slowly. "There are crash sites," she said. "Old ones. Some newer."
"And dangerous," Preston added. "Brotherhood doesn't abandon their tech lightly."
"I know," Mel said. "But without physical analysis, we're guessing. Guessing gets people killed."
Sico folded his hands together. "How long to produce a blueprint once you have the material?"
Mel exhaled slowly, thinking. "Initial concept? A few months. A viable prototype? Longer. Depends on resources. Skilled labor. Trial failures."
"And funding," Magnolia said softly.
All eyes turned to her.
She didn't flinch.
"The Republic treasury is stable," she said. "More than stable. Trade surplus is high, infrastructure investment is paying off, and public trust keeps circulation strong."
She closed her ledger gently.
"When a blueprint exists," she continued, "I can authorize caps for research, fabrication facilities, and training programs."
Preston let out a slow breath. "So… we're green-lit?"
Magnolia smiled faintly. "Financially? Yes. Strategically? That's for you all to decide."
Sarah's eyes never left Sico. "Air support changes everything," she said. "Faster patrol response. Reinforcement within minutes instead of hours."
"And aerial reconnaissance," Preston added. "We could see threats before they hit settlements."
"And evacuate civilians from hot zones," Magnolia said quietly.
Mel tapped the board again. "And I could finally build something that doesn't involve fixing other people's mistakes."
Sico watched them all, listening not just to words, but to tone. Excitement. Concern. Resolve.
"This wouldn't replace ground forces," he said. "It would support them."
Sarah nodded. "Which means training adjustments. Doctrine changes."
"And expectations," Preston added. "People will start looking to the sky."
Magnolia's voice softened. "Then we make sure what they see up there represents protection, not fear."
Silence followed.
Not hesitation.
Alignment.
Sico felt it settle into place, the same way it had with the Castle, with Ronnie, with succession. Another piece locking into a future that was being built one decision at a time.
"Alright," he said finally. "Here's how we proceed."
He looked to Mel first.
"You start preliminary design work," he said. "Based on known Vertibird specs. Identify what we can build with existing capabilities and what requires new solutions."
Mel nodded eagerly. "Already mentally halfway there."
"Good," Sico said. "But you don't risk lives for curiosity."
Mel sobered slightly. "Understood."
Sico turned to Sarah. "I want reconnaissance teams identifying crash sites. Priority goes to abandoned or contested zones where Brotherhood presence is minimal."
Sarah nodded. "Stealth teams only. No engagement unless necessary."
"And if Brotherhood patrols show interest?" Preston asked.
"Then we reassess," Sico replied. "This is long-term. We don't rush."
He turned to Magnolia.
"When the blueprint reaches viability," he said, "you'll authorize funding."
Magnolia inclined her head. "I'll prepare the framework now."
"And Preston," Sico continued, "you start thinking about how air support integrates into patrol doctrine. Training. Command structure."
Preston smiled faintly. "Been waiting to rethink patrols anyway."
The meeting continued for another hour, details layered atop vision. Risks. Safeguards. Timelines that stretched months into years. No one pretended it would be easy.
But no one dismissed it either.
When they finally stood to leave, the room felt charged—not with tension, but with possibility.
As they filtered out, Mel lingered behind, staring at the board one last time.
"You know," he said quietly to Sico, "the Brotherhood thinks the sky belongs to them."
Sico paused beside him.
"Then it's time we reminded the world the sky doesn't belong to anyone," he said. "It's just another frontier."
Mel smiled.
The idea didn't end when the meeting did.
If anything, it followed Sico out of Conference Room B like a second shadow.
He walked the halls of Freemasons HQ slowly afterward, not because he had nowhere to be, but because his mind was already moving several steps ahead. Air support wasn't just a technological leap. It was a statement. To allies. To civilians. And, inevitably, to the Brotherhood.
The Republic wasn't content to stay grounded.
By the time he reached his office again, he had already decided there would be no delay.
Momentum mattered.
Sico paused briefly at his desk, setting aside unread reports, then activated the internal comm.
"Mel," he said evenly. "Come back in here."
It took less than a minute.
Mel entered with that familiar energy that followed him whenever his brain had been given permission to dream big. He still carried the marker from the meeting, smudges of black on his fingers.
"You forgot to tell me to start building immediately," Mel said. "I was about to do it anyway."
Sico closed the door behind him and leaned against the edge of the desk.
"I'm going to tell you something," he said. "And I need you to hear the entire sentence before you get excited."
Mel crossed his arms, trying and failing to look serious.
"Alright."
"You're going to start analyzing Vertibirds," Sico said. "But you're not doing it blind."
Mel's grin sharpened. "You've got crash sites."
"I'm about to," Sico corrected.
He straightened, voice turning precise.
"I want you to speak with Hancock," Sico continued. "His scavenger teams are already operating in high-risk zones. They know how to move quietly, strip valuable tech, and disappear before someone decides they want it back."
Mel nodded immediately. "They're good."
"They are," Sico agreed. "And I trust Hancock to keep them disciplined."
Mel hesitated just a fraction. "Brotherhood crash sites aren't like old-world ruins," he said. "They watch those."
"I know," Sico said. "That's why Hancock won't be alone."
Mel's brow lifted slightly. "You're assigning escorts."
"Yes," Sico replied without hesitation.
He activated the comm again.
"Preston," he said. "Meet me in my office."
Preston arrived moments later, hat tucked under his arm, expression alert but calm.
"You needed me?" he asked.
Sico gestured for him to step inside and closed the door again.
"We're moving forward with Vertibird acquisition," Sico said bluntly.
Preston's eyebrows rose that not in surprise, but in confirmation.
"Crash recovery," he said.
"Yes," Sico replied. "Hancock's scavenger team will lead the retrieval. I want the soldiers escorting them."
Preston nodded slowly, already running scenarios in his head.
"How many?" he asked.
"Enough to secure the perimeter without drawing attention," Sico said. "This isn't a show of force. It's a surgical operation."
"Understood," Preston said. "Veterans only?"
"Yes," Sico replied. "People who know when not to shoot."
Preston allowed a faint smile. "I'll handpick them."
"Good," Sico said.
Mel shifted his weight, excitement tempered by realism.
"When do we start?" he asked.
Sico didn't hesitate.
"Today," he said.
That single word carried weight.
Today meant risk.
Today meant Brotherhood scouts might already be watching the same wreckage.
Today meant the Republic was stepping into contested territory not with guns blazing, but with intent.
Preston exhaled slowly. "That's fast."
"The sooner we begin," Sico said, "the sooner this stops being an idea and starts becoming capability."
Mel nodded firmly. "I'll brief Hancock immediately."
"Do that," Sico said. "And make it clear, no heroics. We don't need intact Vertibirds. We need information."
Mel raised a finger. "Rotor assemblies, avionics, armor plating, power coupling—"
"I know," Sico interrupted gently. "Just don't die collecting it."
Mel smirked. "I'll do my best."
Hancock took the news exactly as one might expect.
He leaned back in his chair at the scavenger team barracks, boots kicked up on the desk, sunglasses tilted slightly as he listened to Mel explain the plan.
"So," Hancock said finally, lips curling into a grin. "You want me to poke the Brotherhood where it hurts."
"Carefully," Mel emphasized.
Hancock chuckled. "You always ruin the fun part."
Mel crossed his arms. "This isn't about fun. It's about building something that flies."
That got Hancock's attention.
He lowered his boots and leaned forward.
"You're serious," Hancock said.
"Dead serious," Mel replied. "We want to build our own Vertibirds."
Hancock let out a low whistle. "Now that," he said, "is ambitious."
"You in?" Mel asked.
Hancock didn't answer immediately. Instead, he glanced around the room at his team with men and women who had survived the Commonwealth by being faster, smarter, and more adaptable than everyone else.
"Brotherhood crash sites are dangerous," Hancock said. "Not just because of patrols. Those birds don't always go down clean."
"We know," Mel said.
Hancock nodded slowly. "Alright," he said. "We'll do it."
Mel exhaled, relief flickering across his face.
"But," Hancock added, raising a finger, "I want clear rules of engagement."
"You'll have them," Mel said.
"And escorts," Hancock continued. "I don't care how good my people are, Brotherhood soldiers aren't raiders."
"They're coming," Mel assured him.
Hancock grinned. "Then let's go steal ourselves a sky."
The escort team assembled within hours.
Preston didn't waste time.
He selected soldiers who had seen combat against the Brotherhood before with men and women who understood their tactics, their discipline, and their stubborn refusal to abandon technology.
Sarah oversaw the final briefing, arms crossed as she studied the assembled group.
"This is not a raid," she said firmly. "You engage only if necessary. Your primary objective is protection, not elimination."
A few soldiers nodded grimly.
"If Brotherhood patrols approach," she continued, "you withdraw. The wreckage isn't worth lives."
One of the soldiers raised a hand. "What if they try to recover it themselves?"
"Then you delay," Sarah said. "Quietly. Long enough for the scavengers to extract priority components."
She paused, eyes sharp.
"And if things go loud," she finished, "you get out. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," they replied in unison.
Preston stepped forward. "Remember," he said, "this mission isn't about proving anything. It's about building something bigger than us."
That settled them.
They moved out at first light.
The crash site lay east of an old industrial zone, beyond a stretch of irradiated wetlands and half-collapsed highways.
The Vertibird had gone down hard.
Even from a distance, the wreckage was unmistakable as it twisted rotor blades embedded in concrete, scorched armor plating torn open like a carcass, the faint smell of burnt oil and ozone lingering in the air.
Hancock's team moved first, light-footed and efficient.
The soldiers escorts followed, spreading into a loose perimeter, rifles low but ready.
"Looks like it clipped a tower on descent," one scavenger muttered.
"Lucky for us," Hancock replied. "Means the core might still be intact."
They worked fast.
Mel hadn't come by design, but his instructions echoed through every movement. Document everything. Preserve critical components. Mark stress fractures.
One scavenger carefully detached a section of rotor housing, another pried open an access panel to expose wiring clusters thick as veins.
A soldier hissed softly into his radio. "Movement. North ridge."
Hancock froze instantly.
Sarah's voice crackled through the comm. "Confirm."
"Three. Maybe four. Power armor silhouettes."
Brotherhood.
Hancock glanced at the half-stripped wreckage, then at the scavengers.
"You've got five minutes," he said quietly.
The escorts shifted, spreading wider, weapons raised just enough to deter without provoking.
The Brotherhood patrol hadn't seen them yet.
Wind carried the distant thrum of servo motors.
"Two minutes," Hancock warned.
One scavenger cursed softly as a component finally came free.
"Got it!"
"Pack it," Hancock ordered.
The silhouettes paused on the ridge, scanning.
"Time," Hancock said.
They moved.
The retreat was clean.
No shots fired.
No alarms triggered.
By the time the Brotherhood patrol reached the crash site, it was already too late.
The sky remained quiet.
By nightfall, the salvaged components lay spread across reinforced tables in the Science Division workshop.
Mel circled them slowly, eyes alight, hands hovering just above metal like a priest before an altar.
"This," he murmured, "is how it starts."
Sico stood nearby, arms folded, watching not just the technology, but the man.
"How soon?" he asked.
Mel looked up, smile sharp with promise.
"As soon as we finish understanding how they thought they owned the sky," he said.
Sico nodded.
The work did not slow after that first night.
If anything, it accelerated.
The salvaged Vertibird components became the quiet center of gravity inside the Science Division, drawing people in the way storms draw wind. Engineers rotated through in shifts. Scientist logged measurements until their fingers cramped. Apprentices learned quickly when to speak and when to simply observe Mel pacing, muttering, dismantling, rebuilding ideas in his head before his hands ever touched metal.
Five days passed.
Not the kind of days marked by sunrises and sunsets, but by progress.
By the time Sanctuary noticed, the Republic was already deeper into the project than most would have believed possible.
Mel barely slept.
When he did, it was in fragments with twenty minutes slumped in a chair, an hour on a cot wedged between workbenches, head filled with schematics that refused to stay still. He woke constantly with new realizations, new contradictions, new questions that demanded immediate answers.
The first day was dissection.
Every part Hancock's team had retrieved was cataloged, cleaned, scanned, and broken down to its most basic purpose. Mel refused to let anyone treat the Vertibird as a single machine.
"It's not one thing," he said repeatedly. "It's dozens of systems pretending to be one."
Rotor assemblies were measured down to microscopic tolerances. Armor plating was cut into cross-sections to study stress dispersion. Wiring bundles were unraveled and traced until their logic became clear or until it became clear where the Brotherhood had sacrificed elegance for brute redundancy.
Mel talked constantly as he worked.
To himself. To anyone nearby. To the machine.
"They assumed unlimited resources," he muttered at one point, fingers brushing scorched metal. "Fusion cores everywhere. Replacement parts whenever they want. That's not how we live."
On the second day, Hancock's scavenger team returned with more.
They came back dirty, tired, and grinning.
"Another crash site," Hancock said, dropping a crate onto the workshop floor. "Southwest. Older wreck, but less stripped."
Mel practically pounced on it.
"You went back out?" he asked, eyes wide.
Hancock shrugged. "You said you'd need more."
Mel stared at him for a long moment, then nodded once. "You did good."
That was high praise, coming from Mel.
By the end of the second day, patterns were emerging.
The Brotherhood's Vertibirds were powerful, yes, but heavy. Overarmored in some places, under-supported in others. Their VTOL systems relied on brute force rather than efficiency, burning fuel to compensate for structural compromises.
"They built them to intimidate," Mel said during a late-night session with his senior engineers. "Not to last."
On the third day, Hancock went out again.
This time, Preston insisted on increasing escort numbers that not because the previous missions had gone wrong, but because the Brotherhood had begun circling their crash sites more aggressively.
Sarah brought updated intel.
"They know something's happening," she said quietly. "They don't know what. Yet."
Sico listened, then nodded. "That's fine. We're already past the point where secrecy matters more than speed."
The third shipment brought avionics.
Navigation systems. Control interfaces. Targeting subsystems that made Mel swear out loud when he realized how much of it was unnecessary complexity designed to integrate with Brotherhood command hierarchies rather than pilot intuition.
"They don't trust their pilots," he said flatly. "The machine makes the decisions."
That bothered him more than anything else.
On the fourth day, the workshop doors barely closed at all.
People came and went with parts, questions, updates, concerns. Magnolia stopped by briefly that not to interfere, but to observe. She watched Mel work with a banker's eye and a leader's patience, seeing not just the design but the cost, the manpower, the long-term implications.
She said nothing.
She didn't need to.
By the fifth day, Mel stopped pulling apart Brotherhood machines.
He started building something else.
The blueprint took shape slowly, layer by layer, system by system.
It wasn't a Vertibird.
Not exactly.
It was lighter.
More modular.
Designed around maintenance by Republic engineers, not Brotherhood scribes with exclusive training manuals. The power system was redesigned to accept multiple energy sources that not just fusion, but hybrid alternatives that could be swapped depending on availability.
The rotors were reinforced differently, allowing for controlled damage tolerance rather than catastrophic failure.
"It won't look like theirs," Mel said quietly to himself as he finalized the last major schematic.
"And that's the point."
Late on the fifth night, Mel stood alone in the workshop.
The blueprint glowed faintly on the central table, aa layers cycling slowly as if breathing.
He hadn't told anyone yet.
But it was done.
The meeting was called the next morning.
Conference Room A this time.
Not because they needed ceremony, but because this deserved weight.
Magnolia arrived first, ledger tucked under her arm, expression composed but curious. She took her seat without comment, eyes already scanning the printed summary Mel had provided.
Preston followed, removing his hat as he entered, posture relaxed but alert.
Sarah came next, pausing briefly at the door to glance back down the hall, instinct never fully off-duty, before stepping inside.
Sico arrived last.
He didn't speak immediately.
He simply took his seat at the head of the table and looked at Mel.
Mel stood near the holo-projector, hands clasped behind his back, exhaustion etched into his face, but so was something else.
Pride.
"Alright," Sico said calmly. "Let's see it."
Mel exhaled.
He activated the projector.
The blueprint blossomed into the air.
It was immediately clear this wasn't just a copy of Brotherhood technology.
The silhouette alone told a different story that sleeker, slightly narrower, less aggressive in profile. The rotors were angled differently. The fuselage showed modular sections clearly designed to be swapped, repaired, or upgraded without dismantling the entire craft.
Magnolia leaned forward slightly.
Preston whistled under his breath.
Sarah's eyes narrowed, already dissecting it tactically.
"This," Mel began, voice steady despite the moment, "is a Republic aerial platform."
He gestured, layers peeling back.
"It's inspired by the Vertibird, yes, but not constrained by Brotherhood doctrine."
He moved through the systems methodically.
Power.
"This platform doesn't rely on a single power solution," Mel explained. "Fusion is ideal, but not mandatory. We've designed it to accept hybrid energy sources. That means operational flexibility."
Magnolia's pen paused. "Which means supply chain resilience," she said quietly.
Mel nodded. "Exactly."
Control.
"The cockpit is simplified," Mel continued. "Pilot-first. Fewer automated overrides. More direct control. That means training matters, but it also means adaptability."
Sarah spoke up. "Less machine interference means faster reaction under fire."
"Yes," Mel agreed. "And fewer catastrophic failures when systems get damaged."
Armor.
"We've redistributed plating," Mel said. "Critical zones are reinforced, but non-essential areas shed weight. This bird doesn't try to be a flying tank."
Preston crossed his arms. "Good. Tanks don't fly well."
Weapons.
"This platform supports modular armament," Mel said carefully. "Defensive and limited offensive capabilities. Emphasis on precision."
Sico held up a hand slightly.
"Clarify," he said.
Mel met his gaze.
"This is not a bombing platform," Mel said firmly. "It's support. Escort. Recon. Evacuation. If it fires, it fires with intent and not terror."
Silence followed.
Not doubt.
Consideration.
Mel let the blueprint rotate slowly.
"But," he said, and the word carried weight, "this is still a design."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"I cannot guarantee perfection," he continued. "No one can. This needs to be built. Tested. Broken. Fixed."
Trial and error.
Prototypes.
Failures.
Magnolia closed her ledger slowly. "How many prototypes?" she asked.
"At least two," Mel replied. "Preferably three."
"And timeline?" Preston asked.
Mel hesitated. "Weeks," he said honestly. "If everything goes right."
"And if it doesn't?" Sarah asked.
Mel didn't flinch. "Then we learn."
Sico leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled.
"Risk?" he asked.
"High," Mel said. "But controlled."
"Cost?" Magnolia asked.
Mel glanced at her. "Significant. But less than losing settlements because we can't respond fast enough."
Magnolia nodded once. "I thought you'd say that."
Silence stretched.
Then Sico stood.
He walked slowly around the table, eyes never leaving the blueprint.
"For five days," he said, voice calm, "you've worked without pause."
Mel nodded. "Yes."
"You've used scavenged enemy technology to design something new," Sico continued. "Something that serves our values, not theirs."
Mel swallowed.
"You're telling us this might fail," Sico said. "That it will require mistakes. Losses. Time."
"Yes," Mel said quietly.
Sico stopped beside him.
"That," he said, "is honesty."
He turned back to the table.
"Motions?" Sico asked.
Preston didn't hesitate. "I support moving forward."
Sarah nodded. "So do I."
Magnolia closed her ledger with finality.
"Funding approved," she said. "Prototype phase."
Mel exhaled for the first time in days.
Sico looked at him.
"Build it," he said.
Mel smiled.
Mel's smile lingered for only a second after Sico's words.
Build it.
Two simple words, but they landed like a weight and a promise at the same time.
The room didn't immediately dissolve into movement. No one stood up right away. No chairs scraped back. For a few quiet seconds, they all just sat there, staring at the hovering blueprint as if it might change if they looked away.
It was Preston who finally broke the stillness, shifting in his chair and letting out a slow breath.
"Well," he said, tone light but edged with gravity, "that's one hell of a way to spend five days."
Mel huffed a tired laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You should've seen day three."
Sarah allowed herself a small smile, brief but real. "I'll take your word for it."
Magnolia gathered her papers neatly, sliding them back into her ledger with the same calm precision she brought to everything. "I'll authorize material reallocation this afternoon," she said. "You'll get priority access to composites, power couplings, and fabrication slots."
Mel's shoulders loosened a fraction. "That helps. A lot."
She met his eyes. "This isn't cheap," she added evenly. "So don't make it fragile."
"I won't," Mel said. And this time, there was no hesitation in his voice.
One by one, they began to rise from the table.
Sarah paused beside Mel, lowering her voice. "When you start testing this thing," she said, "loop me in early. If it flies, people will want to shoot at it."
Mel nodded. "I assumed as much."
Preston clapped Mel lightly on the shoulder as he passed. "You just designed the most dangerous idea the Republic's had in a while," he said with a grin. "Try not to let it fall on anyone."
"No promises," Mel replied dryly.
Soon, only two people remained in the room.
Sico and Mel.
The projector still hummed softly, the Republic aerial platform rotating in slow, steady silence between them.
Sico didn't sit back down.
Instead, he stayed standing, hands resting on the edge of the table, eyes fixed not on Mel but on the machine.
There was a long pause.
Mel waited.
He had learned, over the years, that when Sico went quiet like this, it wasn't uncertainty. It was calculation. The kind that looked past what was possible and straight into what was necessary.
Finally, Sico spoke.
"There's something missing," he said.
Mel blinked. "Missing?"
Sico nodded once. "Not from the design," he clarified. "From the conversation."
Mel followed his gaze back to the blueprint, brow furrowing. "I walked you through every major system."
"You did," Sico agreed. "And I agree with almost all of it."
That word almost made Mel straighten slightly.
Sico turned to face him fully now.
"You designed this craft to protect people," Sico continued. "To move fast. To respond. To evacuate. To escort."
"Yes," Mel said cautiously.
"But," Sico went on, "you also designed it knowing who we're up against."
Mel's eyes narrowed a touch. "The Brotherhood."
"Yes," Sico said. "And the Brotherhood won't see this as a rescue platform. They'll see it as a challenge."
Mel exhaled slowly. "I assumed that, too."
Sico nodded. "Then you'll understand my question."
He paused, choosing his words carefully that not because he was unsure, but because he respected the weight of what he was about to ask.
"Can this thing fight?" Sico asked.
Mel didn't answer immediately.
Not because he hadn't thought about it.
Because he had.
"Define fight," Mel said finally.
Sico stepped closer to the holo-table, reaching out to rotate the blueprint with a subtle flick of his fingers.
"I don't mean turning it into a gunship," Sico said. "I don't want Brotherhood Vertibirds with Republic paint."
Mel nodded slowly. "Good."
"I mean," Sico continued, "if one of these encounters a Brotherhood Vertibird in the air… can it defend itself?"
Mel folded his arms. "With the current configuration, yes. Evasive capability, countermeasures, limited defensive armament—"
Sico shook his head once.
"That's not what I'm asking."
Mel stilled.
Sico looked at him now, directly.
"I'm asking if it can end the encounter."
Silence filled the room again, heavier this time.
"You're talking about air-to-air engagement," Mel said quietly.
"Yes," Sico replied.
Mel glanced back at the blueprint, then away again.
"The Brotherhood mounts twin miniguns," he said slowly. "Left and right. Crew-operated. High rate of fire. Intimidation-first design."
"And inefficient," Sico said.
Mel looked back at him, surprised.
"They have to maneuver the entire aircraft to line up shots," Sico continued. "Bank left. Bank right. Expose themselves. Waste time."
Mel's expression sharpened. "You've been thinking about this."
"I have," Sico said. "Too much, maybe."
Mel rubbed his jaw. "So what are you suggesting?"
Sico didn't hesitate.
"Integrated weaponry," he said. "Mounted directly to the airframe. Forward-facing."
Mel's breath caught that not in shock, but in recognition.
"Fixed weapons," Mel murmured.
"Yes," Sico said. "Something tied to the pilot's line of sight. Something that doesn't rely on a second crew member swiveling a gun while the craft dances around in the sky."
Mel was already pacing now, slow steps, hands moving unconsciously as his mind kicked into motion.
"You're talking about reducing reaction time," he said. "Engagement window. If the pilot sees the target, the weapon is already aligned."
"Exactly," Sico said. "No turning left or right just to bring a gun to bear. No wasted seconds."
Mel stopped pacing.
"There are risks," he said immediately.
"I expect there are," Sico replied.
"Fixed weapons limit firing arcs," Mel continued. "They force commitment. If the pilot misjudges approach, they overshoot. No lateral coverage."
Sico nodded. "But they gain precision."
"Yes," Mel admitted. "And speed."
"And initiative," Sico added.
Mel looked at the blueprint again, really looked this time. His fingers twitched, as if itching to pull layers apart, to redraw lines that had only just settled into place.
"I deliberately avoided heavy weapon systems," Mel said quietly. "I didn't want this to become… that."
"A symbol of fear?" Sico asked.
"Yes," Mel said. "The Brotherhood rule the sky by making people panic when they hear rotors."
Sico's voice softened. "And you don't want us to become them."
"No," Mel said.
Another pause.
Then Sico spoke again, more gently this time.
"I don't want to rule the sky," he said. "I want to make sure no one else owns it."
Mel closed his eyes for a brief moment.
That did it.
He exhaled slowly, then opened them again, something resolute settling into his expression.
"Alright," he said.
Sico straightened slightly.
"Alright?" he repeated.
Mel nodded. "Alright. Let's talk weapons."
He turned back to the projector and began pulling up sub-layers of the design that hadn't been part of the formal presentation.
"I didn't include this because it wasn't ready," Mel said. "But I've been… considering contingencies."
The blueprint shifted.
A new overlay appeared at the nose of the craft.
Sico leaned in.
"This section," Mel said, pointing, "was designed hollow on purpose. Structural reinforcement without fixed internals."
"For future modifications," Sico guessed.
"For exactly this," Mel confirmed.
He zoomed in further, revealing mounting points integrated into the frame itself.
"No external gun pods," Mel continued. "No crew-operated turrets. These would be fixed, forward-mounted weapons, aligned with the craft's longitudinal axis."
Sico's eyes narrowed, focused. "What kind of weapons?"
Mel hesitated. "Not miniguns."
"Good," Sico said again.
"Energy-based, ideally," Mel said. "Lower recoil. Better accuracy. Less ammunition dependency."
"And if energy systems fail?" Sico asked.
"Then we design redundancy," Mel replied. "Hybrid mounts. Swappable modules."
Sico studied the schematic. "Could it target another Vertibird?"
Mel nodded slowly. "Yes. If the pilot lines up the shot."
"No wasted maneuvering," Sico said.
"No," Mel agreed. "No wasted maneuvering."
They stood there, side by side now, staring at the evolving design.
"This changes things," Mel said quietly.
"I know," Sico replied.
"It makes this a combat platform," Mel continued. "Even if limited."
"It makes it survivable," Sico countered.
Mel glanced at him. "Those aren't always the same thing."
"No," Sico said. "But sometimes they have to be."
Another long silence followed.
Finally, Mel straightened and nodded once.
"I can integrate it," he said. "But I want safeguards."
"Name them," Sico said immediately.
"Limited firing time," Mel said. "Heat thresholds. No sustained suppression fire."
Sico nodded. "Agreed."
"Manual override only," Mel continued. "No automated targeting. No firing without pilot intent."
"Absolutely," Sico said.
"And," Mel added, voice firm now, "this stays defensive by doctrine. No bombing runs. No terror tactics."
Sico met his gaze without flinching.
"Agreed," he said. "This isn't about domination. It's about denying the Brotherhood an advantage."
Mel studied him for a long moment.
Then, slowly, a smile crept across his face that small, tired, but unmistakably excited.
"Well," he said, turning back to the blueprint, fingers already dancing through adjustments, "if we're doing this… we might as well do it right."
The nose of the craft reshaped itself subtly on the holo-display.
Clean lines.
Integrated mounts.
Purposeful.
Sico watched, a quiet sense of inevitability settling in his chest.
The Republic hadn't set out to build a weapon.
But the wasteland didn't care about intentions.
And now, for the first time since the Brotherhood had taken to the skies, the balance was beginning to shift.
______________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-