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Max kicked up his feet and leaned back on the bunk in his room, thinking about what he should name his new Mecha. Officially he was the Pilot, so the naming rights fell to him. Plus, he was a bit afraid to ask what Nico might want to name the new Super Heavy Mecha.

If it was left to her, there was a nearly one hundred percent chance that her annoyance at being moved to the position of Technician, in an attempt to move her out of the cockpit entirely, would come shining through to be memorialized forever.

But just to be sure, Max decided to send her a message asking if she had any ideas.

[I have been thinking about it. Since the Commander wouldn’t approve something catchy like “Call Me Technician one more time and I’ll feed you your balls”, how about something that blends our previous Mecha’s names together?]

That wasn’t a bad idea. The second part, the first one was a bit wordy. Stalwart and Tarith’s Rage. Dropping the Tarith was obvious since the family name was so closely associated with Kepler 142 and their history, but the rest had possibilities.

[How about Enduring Rage?] Max asked.

[Oh, I like it. Simple, elegant, not wimpy or flowery. Enduring Rage sounds like what a Phalanx Class Mecha should be named. Feel free to send that through to Command.] Nico agreed.

With that done, Max now had some time to relax while the rest of the Pilots picked names and the verifications were done. Most of the Pilots had decent naming sense, but Max was certain that the General was going to have to reject at least one variation of “Killbot 3000” and “Shooty McStabberson”.

While the entire army would likely appreciate the joke, Central Command felt that Super Heavy Mecha should have some level of dignity. Once in a while, one got past them though, due to a Regimental Commander not knowing a bit of slang, or being too busy to fully vet an application.

For instance, Colonel Klinger of the Fifth Battalion had tried to name his Mecha “Feculent Rain”, and had been promptly rejected by General Yaakov. Max assumed that the old man had hoped that the General would miss it among the mass of names until it was already registered. Instead, he had ended up naming his unit the Claret River.

Given the mess that the Artillery made against massed enemy forces, rivers of blood were a distinct possibility, so the name wasn’t too out of place.

For the first two days, the Research Team was at full capacity, trying to analyze data, while the repair teams touched up everything that hadn’t been done on the surface, but the Pilots had next to nothing to do.

Everyone simply laid around their rooms, or hung out in the Cafeteria and Gym, killing time. That’s where Max found Nico this time, practicing her sparring with Major Miller. Since he was in a Fast Attack Crusader he was likely to need close combat skills more than most, and he was barely above average.

He did have a dexterity primary stat though, so he should be able to keep up with the advanced movements needed to perform combat techniques in the Mecha. The biggest hindrance to most pilots wasn’t a lack of Piloting skill, but a lack of knowledge about combat techniques that could be transferred from unarmed combat to Mecha Close Combat.

The style they were using was one that could be used inside a Mecha, so once he had started to get better at it he would be able to perform the techniques directly and increase his damage output. They had a few observers in the training room, but most of the unit was focused on their own training routine.

“I wouldn’t want to spar her. That woman is a machine, she just never gets tired.” One of the Pilots muttered as he watched, then blushed as he realized what he had said.

“Yes, literally.” Max agreed, chuckling softly as he moved to one of the Cardio trainers to begin his own routine.

Major Miller was faster and at least as limber as Nico was, but watching the two spar, it was obvious which of them was the expert. He was moving at an incredible rate with the wooden sword in hand, going through the smooth techniques of the mecha-compatible combat style while struggling to land a strike. Nico blocked and swayed, but only had to move her feet a few times a minute to avoid letting the other Major get behind her.

They had just settled down for a break when the final announcements came through. The names for the Mecha had all been approved, and the painting of the names would begin as soon as the General had approved a new paint scheme for the Battalions.

That was entirely up to General Yaakov, but every Battalion Commander held out hope that they would get a good one. During the recruitment on Kepler 111, Max had been allowed to pick a paint scheme of his own for the unit, but General Yaakov wasn’t that kind of Commander. He much preferred to decide such things on his own, for a unified aesthetic appearance.

There might also be orders from above on what the new mecha should look like since there would undoubtedly be propaganda films made featuring the new patterns in the near future, but either way, the Battalion, and Company Commanders weren’t asked for their input, only informed that their Mecha would soon be repainted.

“What do you want to bet that we get our old colors back? We are already on enough propaganda that they might as well make us a recognizable unit again instead of trying to get the public to identify with both a new design and new color scheme at the same time.” Nico suggested.

“I swear, you are better at reading minds than I am,” Max muttered and Nico laughed.

“There is no need to read your mind, I’ve told you a lot of times that you are entirely too predictable and nostalgic. They mentioned paint, so of course, you were brooding about our old colors, that you did such a fine job designing.”