A few days ago, Rush had claimed that he did not have fun. As they crossed the rust wastes, Giza got to see the proof firsthand. He seemed perfectly content to simply march along, or ride the haulers when possible, without so much as a word game or a puzzle for a distraction. All he did was tinker with the shielding units parts he’d recovered over time, carefully disassembling them, arranging the pieces, and then reassembling them. Giza thought it was cool at first, but it started to be weird after the seventh time.

  “Why do you keep doing that?” Giza said. She could understand the first few rebuilds, but as Rush started the eighth, she could not see a possible motive to continue.

  “Because I want to be able to build it right,” Rush said.

  “Don’t you have the goo in your blood that does that?”

  “Elvis is helping,” Rush said. “But Elvis already knows. I don’t want Elvis to know how it works, I want to know how it works.”

  “I...I guess that makes sense,” Giza admitted. “How long do you think it’ll take you to figure it out?”

  “I figured it out three tries ago,” Rush said. “Now I’m just memorizing it.”

  Giza tried not to roll her eyes. She failed. Luckily Rush had his eyes locked on the shielding unit, or he might have taken that the wrong way.

  “Rush, you should probably just install it in your armor,” Giza said. “If we get attacked by a mecha you don’t want to get stuck reassembling and reattaching it before you fight.”

  “We’re on flat plains, we’d see it coming.”

  “Still, Rush.”

  He continued prodding at the parts for a few seconds, and then interrupted his own process to start reassembling them.

  “Elvis agrees with you,” Rush said, as he put the shielding unit together.

  “Well, thank you, Elvis,” Giza said. “You’re my favorite brain goo.”

  “He says you’re his second favorite human,” Rush said.

  “Only second?”

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  “He does live inside my blood,” Rush said. Giza couldn’t argue with that.

  Giza couldn’t argue at all, really. She couldn’t talk to Elvis at all. Not without taking a few extra steps, at least. Rush had a far more direct connection. He slid the shielding unit into place, watched the silver goo do its work, and then waited for the display to pop up on his helmet screen.

  Suit Status Report:

  1 Cell(s) Connected

  4 Energy Storage Units Connected

  Power Systems: 4/4 Charge Capacity

  Diagnostics: Online

  Exoskeleton: Online

  Magnetics: Online

  Shields: Online

  Active Weapon Systems: Concussion Cannon

  With a few extra batteries picked up from the mech’s defeat, Rush’s suit was starting to feel a little more combat-ready. His suit was no longer so resource starved, and thanks to the shield, not as vulnerable either.

  “We’d still better test it to be sure,” Rush said. He slid the armor’s chestpiece on, then started to strap on the boots and gloves. Elvis put up a quick popup explaining the kinetic shield, but Rush dismissed it. He already knew what the shield (not technically a shield, according to Elvis) did.

  “While I appreciate your scientific mindset, Mr. Rush, I don’t think we have an appropriate testing apparatus,” Elvis said. “And I would prefer we not get punched by a mecha today.”

  “I meant more in general,” Rush said. “We want to start with small-scale testing before we try to get hit by a mecha anyway.”

  Rush looked up from his conversation with the goo in his blood and turned to Giza.

  “Giza, punch me in the face.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I need to test my shield,” Rush said. “Punch me. If it works, I shouldn’t be hurt.”

  “And what if it doesn’t work?”

  “I’d rather find out from your punch than a mech’s,” Rush said. Once again, Giza could not argue. She could, however, suggest alternate methods. She grabbed a crowbar from a nearby toolbox, told Rush to brace himself, and then swung it at his upper arm. Giza’s intense mental calculus on how hard she could hit the metal shell was wasted effort. Her swing never made impact. Mere centimeters away from the Scrapper suit’s new shell, her crowbar froze in midair, refusing to budge no matter how Giza strained against it. Only when she finally relented and pulled the crowbar back, away from the suit, did it start to move again.

  “Negligible power draw,” Rush said. For such a small attack, the suit could produce energy faster than the shield drained it. “I don’t know exactly how well that’ll scale up, but it should hold up to a mecha impact.”

  “A few times,” Elvis added. They were still limited by battery capacity, but by his estimation, every full battery charge could likely absorb a single attack from any standard mecha weaponry.

  “Well, it’s good to know you have a layer of protection,” Giza said, unaware of Elvis’s worrying. “Let’s hope we get the chance to see it in action soon.”

  “I’d still rather not get hit,” Rush said.

  “Well, yeah, I meant, uh…”

  Giza decided it was time to change the subject.

  “So, there was a weird feeling when I tried to hit you with this thing, and the crowbar froze,” Giza said, as she waved her makeshift weapon. “What happens if I throw it at you?”

  “Find out.”

  Giza threw the crowbar. It caught on the empty air and then fell straight down, drained of all its forward momentum.

  “Neat. Can I do that again?”

  “Go ahead.