"Dan Heng, you're coming with me to the salvage point today."
"An inspection tour?"
"No. We've hauled in so much metal; time to put it to use."
Caelus shook his head.
"Manual labor is too inefficient. For now, at least, we need some workable construction machinery."
"Construction machinery…"
Dan Heng nodded.
Human effort really was too slow.
A hill of scrap now occupied the salvage lot Caelus had marked out. Dan Heng glanced at him and saw the man's eyes gleaming with anticipation.
What is he planning?
The materials were uneven, the energy-conductivity a mess.
By the time Lancelot's group returned, a towering scrap iron giant stood before Dan Heng and Caelus.
"Back already?"
Caelus turned and rapped the huge machine beside him.
"You lot work too slowly, so I built you a construction mecha."
A construction mecha?
zaku
The titan's single eye blazed red.
"I call it zaku. Collect enough scrap and everyone can have one."
Roughly fifteen metres tall, its body was cobbled together from mismatched scrap plates; thick rivets and crude weld-seams ran everywhere. Hydraulic hoses snaked down the left arm, venting little puffs of white steam.
"Za… ku?" a young crewman echoed the odd name. "Boss, any special meaning?"
"zaku means 'cannon-fodder,' and it clanks zaku-zaku when it walks."
Clank… screeech… clank!
Heavy metal scrape and hydraulic whine mixed together.
Everyone: "…"
So literally a "clank-cannon-fodder"… "Whoever works hardest gets to pilot a zaku." Caelus snapped his fingers. "Simple: hands, brains, and I'll teach you."
He climbed into the cockpit and gave a demonstration of the machine's capabilities.
"Lancelot, up you come. I'll show you how to drive."
Lancelot obeyed. The cockpit was cramped, the seat hard metal; two rough levers and a cluster of half-legible buttons faced him, the air thick with hot oil and scorched steel.
"Left stick: walk and steer. Push forward—go, pull back—stop, left or right to turn. Right stick: grab, release, lift, smash. That's it."
"Steering." Caelus nudged the left lever.
Screeech—
The torso grated as it pivoted right.
"Got it." Lancelot breathed, gripped the lever and eased it forward.
Clank… screeech…
zaku lurched ahead. Wobbly at first, he soon found balance; the strides steadied. He tried the arm—grab, carry, drop—jerky but functional.
Below, the crew stared as their big brother piloted the scrap giant, lifting loads that would need ten men, moving them away ten times faster. Awe and envy mingled.
"See?" Caelus's voice boomed from the loudspeaker, smug. "Power of tech! A way to… ahem, boost efficiency! Work hard and each of you will pilot a zaku—something even better!"
Even better?
They looked at the earth-shaking zaku, eyes blazing.
"Of course!" He added, "Maintenance isn't cheap. Break it through clumsiness and the repair bill comes out of your wages. Understood?"
"Yes, Boss!"
Caelus nodded, strolled back to scrap iron, produced an apple from somewhere and crunched it.
Dan Heng came alongside, watched the clanking zaku and the bustling, high-spirited employees. After a moment he spoke.
"What if someone tries to run off with a zaku?"
"Run? Can zaku leave the atmosphere? Without power it's just scrap."
"So those rough edges…"
"No, I'm just too lazy to polish them. Ugly's fine—it's a tool, not a model."
Dan Heng realized his earlier thought that Caelus was "cautious" had been naïve. He gave up arguing with a man who could call laziness a virtue.
Nearby, Lancelot and the others were still familiarising themselves with the controls.
"This isn't really construction gear…"
It looked built for battle—exactly like the war-form of Caelus's ship.
Kay mused, his guess matching their earlier suspicions about Death Soldiers.
——
Aboard scrap iron, Caelus gazed through the viewport, satisfied.
"Everyone's motivated! Mechanisation is the key to productivity!"
Dan Heng regarded the bizarre zaku outside, then Caelus's self-satisfied grin, and swallowed the question: "Are you sure this isn't a weapon?"
He chose to believe the man just had… unique aesthetics.
After all, someone who croons "baby" to a trashcan might coincidentally build something weapon-shaped.
Coincidence my foot.
Ugly, half-broken-looking—yet undeniably efficient.
Maybe Caelus was right: in a junkyard, pragmatism is the only truth.
Dan Heng crushed that thought. No assimilation, absolutely not.
"Hey, Dan Heng," Caelus slung an arm over his shoulder, pointing, "see? That move looked smoother. Told you—simple, gutsy, anyone can drive."
Indeed, Lancelot now handled zaku smoothly, sorting scrap into piles with the huge arm.
At this rate today's haul would build another zaku.
"~Pick-pick, pickin' junk~"
"~Feed Aha tonight, a chunk~"
"~Half for you, half for me~"
"~Sell the rest to Herta, you see~"
Cosmic Junk Company was steadily steering onto its (peculiar) proper course.
The Talia Star System had no shortage of pirates, and those pirates were forever trying to expand their raiding territory.
"Boss, we're here! That trash-covered rock should be their base!"
Of course, some had come back for revenge after Lancelot's earlier ambush.
Several ferociously painted, obviously illegal refits tore through the thin clouds and hung above the garbage world, weapon bays gaping, black muzzles trained on the ground.
"Last time that bastard robbed my cargo. Today I'm wiping out his whole nest!"
[Multiple unidentified armed vessels approaching. Energy readings rising. Hostile intent confirmed.]
Prometheus streamed the data in front of Caelus and Dan Heng.
"Standard corporate-surplus weapons, nothing special, but the engines have been brute-tuned for decent agility," Dan Heng analysed coolly. "Still, their fire-power is more than enough to flatten this place."
"Listen up—half-day holiday today!"
Caelus bawled through a megaphone.
"Right now—everyone in a zaku, get over here for weapons issue! You all know how to shoot down a ship, so hits get rewards, misses get punished!"
A dozen zakus that had been hauling scrap froze in unison.
"What are you waiting for?!" Caelus's voice cracked with unquestionable impatience. "Deaf or something? This is a paid live-fire drill! Move it! Now! Get your sorry carcasses over here and grab your lunch boxes!"
Crew still immersed in 'hell-mode' garbage-sorting stared blankly; then the pilots reacted, massive metal feet clanging as the zakus lumbered into a ragged line in front of scrap iron.
"One rocket launcher each—blast that ship out of my sky! If you don't cripple it, fly up and hack it down with your heat hawks!"
The dazed crew snapped awake. After tasting steady pay and benefits, loyalty came fast.
The zakus hoisted huge launchers and began loading rounds—rounds Caelus had called 'path-clearers' two days earlier.
Today they were in action.
So they really were weapons of war, Lancelot reflected.
The pirate chief gaped at the garbage-heap giants below, then burst into wild laughter. "What the hell are those toys? Scrap sculptures? You think that'll fight us? Open fire—blow the trash and the trash-cans to pieces!"
The pirate guns began to glow—then ground fire beat them to it.
Whoosh—whoosh-whoosh!
A swarm of crude rockets streaked skyward, inaccurate but numerous.
Boom! Boom!
Blasts flowered; pirate shields flickered and plummeted. No hull breach, but the jolt snapped weapon charges and flung ships about.
What firepower?!
"What the hell?!" the pirate chief screamed amid the lurch. "How can junk hit that hard?! Hold her steady—all guns, smash those tin cans!"
But the 'tin cans' were already reloading. With first-round data, the second salvo flew straighter; several rounds slammed one shield's weak point.
Boom!
That ship's shield collapsed, a gaping wound vomiting smoke.
"Boss, Ship Three's shield is gone—structural damage!"
"Damn it—climb! Use missiles from range—"
He never finished.
The zakus tossed empty launchers aside, the decorative thrusters on their backs coughing black smoke—yet thrusting hard.
Clang—screee!
With tortured metal groans the zakus lurched skyward, trailing smoke, charging the pirate flotilla.
"They're... flying?!" pirate crews gaped.
"Fire! Stop them!"
Zzzzt!
Heat shimmered.
A zaku swung; its white-hot heat hawk bit into an engine pod.
Shh!
Armor melted; conduits ruptured, exploding in a chain.
Boom!
The pirate ship fell tail-flaming.
Other zakus followed, hacking hulls like wolves among sheep, each axe-stroke melting metal and triggering blasts.
heat hawks vibrated at ultra-high frequency, super-heating the edge so it sliced armor like hot wire through butter.
Contact metal vaporised, letting the blade slice deep—cheap, simple, brutal.
Cheap was exactly why they were chosen.
"Retreat! Pull out!"
Too late.
Lancelot's zaku ghosted alongside the flagship; his axe screamed into the main engine.
No—
BOOM!
The flagship lost power and tumbled smoking toward the garbage hills.
The rest scattered in panic; the zakus roared after them.
A bizarre chase ensued: crude pirate ships versus garish scrap-metal giants that flew with savage speed.
Lancelot locked onto the fastest fleeing ship, streaking like a red comet.
"Heh, flying kick?"
Caelus's eyes lit up.
Gotta fit your zaku with antenna and paint it red. And triple its speed.
Red, horned, three-times-speed unit.