Just as Osiris focused on data analysis and future planning, Maine's crew, after several days of rest, had largely recovered from the intense discomfort caused by two consecutive trans-dimensional transfers.
The physical fatigue and neurological disarray had gradually subsided, but the imprints left by that experience, especially the feeling of their consciousness being torn apart and forcibly reassembled during the transfer, still left them with lingering fears.
The increase in power was tangible.
As Rebecca's fingertips brushed over the cold barrel of her Bolter, she felt an unprecedented sense of security; Pilar, while adjusting his flamethrower, his eyes gleamed with pure joy at its destructive power; Sasha and Kiwi, during their electronic warfare tests, also struggled to conceal their shock at their new capabilities.
This equipment elevated everyone's combat power by several levels, a qualitative leap they could hardly have imagined after years of fighting on the streets of Night City.
However, the experience of venturing into another world, and the soul-shattering transfer experience, acted like a bucket of cold water, sobering everyone from their intoxication with power.
They clearly realized that in the grand scheme of this Mechanical Overlord, they were not only beneficiaries of bestowed power but also experimental subjects being observed and tested, and execution tools that could be thrown into unknown dangers at any moment.
This realization, like an invisible membrane, silently enveloped the team.
When Maine was silent, he would unconsciously clench his modified metal fist, feeling the energy within it capable of destroying an armored vehicle, yet his brow furrowed even tighter.
The burden on his shoulders had grown heavier; he not only had to lead the team to survive but also find a fragile balance between power and cost.
Dorio remained steady, but her eyes held a new scrutiny; she would more carefully feel the surging power within her, wondering if unseen ropes lay hidden behind this gift.
Rebecca would occasionally fall into brief silences after her excitement, her green cybernetic eye staring unfocused at the desolate Badlands outside the workshop, lost in thought.
Even the most boisterous Pilar would sometimes stop fiddling with his new weapons, his slender mechanical fingers unconsciously tapping his knee, revealing a hint of imperceptible anxiety.
A complex emotion silently spread through the team; the dependence on and joy in immense power were real, but the heavy apprehension about the unfathomable future also genuinely weighed on everyone's hearts.
During an internal team meeting, Maine raised the practical issues they faced.
Maine crossed his arms, voice low but firm. "Gotta hand it to the boss — whatever juice they pumped into us hits hard. But that transfer? Damn. If we gotta do that two more times back-to-back, I dunno if all of us make it through clean."
He frowned, shaking his head. "Ain't just motion sickness, either. It's like gettin' torn apart and stitched back together by a drunk ripperdoc — not sure you come out the same way you went in."
Dorio nodded, jaw tight, that usual composure showing cracks.
"Yeah. We should flag it, Maine. Not bitchin', just straight-up op feedback. Feels deeper than muscle strain, my mods barely kept me stable. If we keep jumpin' like that, someone's body's gonna give."
Rebecca, usually all fire and chaos, actually looked serious for once.
"Ugh, no lie, that jump wrecked me. Slept half a damn day after, felt worse than a ten-hour firefight. If I had to shoot right after, gun'd be shakin' like crazy."
After discussion, Maine decided to formally raise this issue with Osiris at their next meeting.
The opportunity soon arrived. Osiris needed to collect their long-term physiological data after the transfer to more comprehensively evaluate the impact of the transfer on augmented bodies.
Maine's crew was summoned to the workshop once again.
Unlike before, this time as they stepped into this space filled with cold machinery and low hums, their steps held less anticipation and more an indescribable heaviness. The air seemed to still carry the lingering sensation of their consciousness being torn apart and forcibly reassembled after the last transfer.
After completing a series of precise scans and data recordings, Maine stepped forward.
He took a deep breath, as if organizing his thoughts, then, in as objective and respectful a tone as possible, he presented the team's concerns about the physiological load of trans-dimensional transfers to Osiris.
"Boss, we are very grateful for the power you've given us, and we are willing to carry out missions for you," his voice was exceptionally clear in the spacious workshop, "but the physical and mental stress from the last two consecutive transfers was immense. We are concerned this will affect the efficiency of subsequent mission execution, and might even lead to non-combat casualties."
As his words fell, a brief silence descended upon the workshop, broken only by the steady hum of the equipment.
Dorio stood behind Maine, silently showing her support. Rebecca, uncharacteristically, didn't look around, but kept her lips pressed together, clearly still unnerved by that transfer experience.
Pilar restlessly moved his long fingers, while Falco pushed up his sunglasses, trying to read something from Osiris' expressionless metal faceplate.
Osiris' crimson optical lenses turned to Maine, listening quietly to his report.
He did not respond immediately; his cold gaze seemed to penetrate flesh, directly scrutinizing the operational status of every component within their bodies.
Moments later, he called up the detailed physiological data just collected, performing a rapid comparison and analysis with the records from before and after the transfer.
Data streams scrolled rapidly across his field of vision; lines of parameters, waveforms, and energy readings were processed at high speed.
The analysis results confirmed Maine's words were true; their nervous systems indeed showed signs of repair after intense stimulation, with a slight decrease in the signal transmission efficiency of neural synapses, and subtle stress residues detected in the energy circuits of some implants.
All of this silently corroborated that the feeling of being "disassembled and reassembled" was not entirely subjective speculation.
"Data analysis confirms," Osiris' synthesized voice broke the silence, "the integration of your biological matrix with existing implants has not yet reached the ideal threshold, insufficient to frequently withstand the structural stress of trans-dimensional transfers in the short term. This information is valuable."
He acknowledged the existence of the problem, attributing it to the insufficient fusion between their bodies and implants.
For Osiris, this was an important experimental data point, helping him define the tolerance standards for future trans-dimensional transfers of biological units.
"As a reward for providing critical information, you may make one request," Osiris continued.
His core logic determined that appropriate rewards helped maintain team motivation and loyalty: "Within a reasonable scope, I will consider it."
Maine was prepared for this; he and the squad members had already discussed it.
He glanced at Dorio, then said to Osiris: "Boss, we hope you can customize a weapon for Dorio. Her strength is immense, but she lacks a primary combat weapon that can fully utilize her abilities."
Dorio was the team's close-quarters pillar; her enhanced body was itself a powerful weapon, but against higher-level threats, relying solely on fists and feet did seem limited.
A weapon matching her monstrous strength and combat style would greatly enhance her suppression power and survivability on the front lines.
Osiris' gaze swept over Dorio, quickly accessing data from his database regarding her combat patterns, peak strength, and body structure.
"Understood," he agreed concisely, "Based on her combat data, I will design a suitable melee weapon for her. It is estimated to take seventy-two hours to complete the design and manufacturing."
This response brought a sigh of relief to Maine's crew, and also a sense of satisfaction.
Osiris was not entirely unreasonable; their needs and feedback were being taken seriously and met with practical responses.
"Thank you, boss," Maine said on behalf of the team.
"Return to base, remain on standby. You will be notified when the weapon is complete," Osiris commanded, his attention already shifting to the technical parameters and material selection required for designing Dorio's weapon.