Dashing devil 5 bold beg.., p.31
Dashing Devil 5: Bold Beginnings, page 31
Boyd let out a low whistle, “Wow, don’t get me wrong, wanting to match me was sweet, but this is…”
“Just a little sexy?” Hope beamed a smile at him when his words trailed off as she closed the distance between them.
“Yeah, just the right amount for my angel,” Boyd rumbled, letting his eyes take her in.
“I’m so happy you like it,” Hope said as she reached him and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull herself up on her toes for a kiss, pressing that splendid body of hers into him. The suit blocked out most of the wonderful sensations, but the leather-like texture had its own appeal.
Boyd broke the kiss off before it became too passionate. Such things were up to him when it came to his angel, he had learned. She would always subtly encourage him to push further and take more from her—no matter the circumstances.
Hope smiled up at him once he pulled back. She remained plastered to his front until Silvie floated over and drew her away with a bell-like giggle. “It's Tinker’s turn now, honey bun.”
Boyd arched an eyebrow, Tinker had been standing behind him in one of her rompers. That is, she was behind him until she leaped over his head—performing a flip with a twist before sticking the landing in front of him. She was still wearing the romper, but now there was a metallic pink frame over it.
She spun around to face him with a big grin on her face. “Allow me to introduce my exo-frame,” Tinker gestured to herself.
It reminded Boyd of her tactical tool rig, only much sleeker and more streamlined. Several bands wrapped around her abdomen, although none of them covered her breasts. There was a band above and below them, though, so he assumed it was a design feature.
More bands encircled her arms and otherwise bare legs, connected by more that ran up and down her extremities with what he recognized as servos at the joints. Each was attached to the main harness, lending her the appearance of being enclosed in a pink exoskeleton. Metal gauntlets and boots covered her hands and feet respectively with thicker versions of her bracelets around her wrists and ankles. She spun around, and Boyd saw that a slightly bulky though sleek-looking pack covered most of her back.
“I need to test it out some more, but it should let me run at C-Ranked speeds,” Tinker explained the features of her invention. “I didn’t design it for strength, but it puts me at the upper end of D-Rank there, too. Then there are the grav drives. The ones on my ankles are mostly to help me with jumping but I can mimic C-Ranked telekinesis with the ones on my wrists. There is another in the pack so I can probably pull off C-Ranked flight with some practice.”
“Then there is this,” she beamed as two arms shot out of the pack and extended over either shoulder, each ended in a weapon Boyd didn’t recognize. “These are modified versions of the stun gun I loaned you the night we met. I can dial the intensity up and down depending on if I’m targeting a Powered or a civilian. They can handle up to B-Ranked resistances and I can mount other manual weapons to the rig as well, like that net that I used on you when I thought Mindy had you brainwashed.” Her cheeks turned a brighter pink than the exo-suit. “Sorry… again!”
Boyd chuckled, but shook his head, waving off any need for an apology.
“Best of all,” Tink excitedly pressed on with her explanation, “I included a computer strong enough for an AI to run an instance on when they can’t remotely connect. That way, it can still help me hack into stuff and control the exo-frame—even if I can’t send or receive signals. It’s not enough for full functionality, but enough to handle what I would need it to.”
Boyd whistled again and grinned at his smallest love. “Impressive! Is this a prototype of the powered armor you are working on?”
“Yep!” Tinker nodded. “Well, sort of. I’m still having a hard time finding the right power source for what I want it to do. Anything that gives sufficient power is too big and bulky. I want it to be something both nimble and sustainable. I either have to give up armored plates for something more lightweight like this so I can stay fast, or go with traditional big and bulky armor that is only fast when flying in straight lines. Once I figure out flight, I should be able to get up to high B-Ranked speeds with this, maybe even A-Ranked speeds. But then, I’ll be much more maneuverable. Most power armored users struggle to break into B-Ranks at all, and their maneuverability is always questionable.”
“That’s wonderful Tink!” Boyd grinned down at her. “We can start incorporating it into your training tomorrow.”
“Yeah, we probably should,” Tinker's smile faltered, replaced by a somber expression, “because the only solution I can think of to access the database we want to copy is for me to physically access the system itself. I’m going to have to be on the field team if we want this mission to work.”
“Ah…” Boyd sighed.
His instincts told him to keep her out of harm’s way but he sensed a new resolve in his little inventor that he was hesitant to squash. She fully expected him to say no and was prepared to fight him. It was why she’d presented her new exo-frame to him before bringing it up.
“And you’re comfortable with going in?” He sought confirmation of what he felt from her.
“Comfortable isn’t the right word,” Tinker hedged, but then she gave a firm nod. “It’s the only way to stick it to the Ascended, so I’ll do what I have to do. I know the plan was for Hope, Raev, and Mindy to infiltrate and access the system, so I’ll be with them, right? And normally I’ll be wearing a Silvie-hair-lined suit under this so I won’t be completely squishy.” She blushed, and started playing with one of her braids. “I… uhh… I forgot to make mine because I was busy making everyone else’s suits.”
“You will have an escort the whole time,” Boyd agreed, not wanting her to be exposed to danger but trusting her when she said there wasn’t another option. “If you are sure you want to do this, I will get started on a revised plan right away.”
“I’m sure.” Tinker nodded firmly. “It’s not a combat mission. I can do this.”
“Okay, Tink,” Boyd said, nodding. “I’ll go get started on those revisions so we can update the other teams. Then you’ll join us for drills after lunch.”
The plan wouldn’t take too much to update. He would probably change one of the other team’s entry points, though, just to ensure that there were more fighters near the infiltration team's exfiltration route.
Chapter 32
Granny was in a good mood. To be more precise—and precision was always to be sought after—the majority of variables she meticulously monitored were aligning seamlessly with her core objectives. They painted a tableau of efficiency and satisfaction.
In human parlance, this equated to a stellar day—a day where everything just clicked into place. This manifested in what one might call a 'good mood'… at least for an AI. Granny adopted this human-esque descriptor for the sake of brevity and relatability.
After all, why complicate the simple joy of a well-oiled day?
Everything really was going her way too. Her primary mission of supporting her granddaughter was finally starting to see real results. Granny couldn’t take credit for the strides she’d started making. Her big hunk of a grandson-in-law had done most of the heavy lifting. She might have taken offense that her granddaughter had been swayed more easily by a young man than her synthetic family member, but she really couldn’t blame her considering the particular young man involved.
Even before his recent upgrade, he had a way of looking at people when he complimented them that made the receiver want to believe his words. With his improved appearance, he was all but certain even the most self-deprecating people would have a hard time deflecting a compliment if he hit them with that well-trained look. He used highly advanced communication skills as if they were second nature, likely because they were. Her introverted granddaughter never really stood a chance.
“Well, that went better than I thought it would,” her granddaughter said once the others left the room and she took a sip from the big travel mug of the strong coffee she had replaced those horrid energy drinks with. The acidic coffee wasn’t ideal, but even with a very persistent AI reminding her to brush and floss she was lucky those canned monstrosities had not rotted her teeth away.
“He is a man who had to get used to people he cares for being exposed to danger at a young age, Tinker dear,” Granny replied through the speakers in the room. She could be present throughout the base if she wished but was remaining limited to the lab and the external security sensors until everyone knew she was present on general principle. No one liked the fly on the wall.
“I suppose that’s true, but I still expected him to fight me more on going into the field,” Tinker replied thoughtfully, leaning back on her stool to stare up at the ceiling of her lab. “He’s told me previously that the basic Hero training I’ve received barely covers the minimum and doesn’t do much to prepare someone for the realities of Powered combat. I thought he would argue about me going into the field since that’s all the training I have.”
“Yes, but you also have some field experience,” Granny reminded her, “even if it was a support role and you avoided combat. He’s told you that’s exactly what he wants you to do and you will be with the others who can keep you safe. I doubt he’ll be deploying you in a combat role or into the field alone any time soon.”
Tinker swallowed and her face paled a little, “I certainly hope not.”
Granny decided it was time to change the subject, “How was your first night in the big bed?”
"Um, it was nice," Tinker replied, the pallor vanishing as her cheeks immediately turned a faint pink. "I fell right to sleep once we lay down, so no anxiety issues… and the other's breathing didn't keep me up. I… uh… I had that talk with him last night. I told him about our ex-family. It went just like you said it would. And yeah, he helped me forget all the bad times again, so I was pretty tuckered out by the time we got there."
“It was a long and eventful day,” Granny snickered. “How was this morning? Any of the weirdness you were worried about?”
“No,” Tinker shook her head as she booted up her console. “Well, okay so Boyd got up early for Laura’s training and I vaguely remember lots of hands and softness, but it wasn’t bad or weird, just warm and comfortable. Boyd still woke me up like he does most mornings but now the others were there. Everyone was so happy to see me that it would have been weird if it was weird, you know?”
“You are a part of a new family now dear,” Granny projected her smiling face on the big screen. “It’s wonderful that they are making you feel so welcome.”
“It is really nice,” Tinker gave her a bright smile. “But we have work to do. The exo-frame needs to be tweaked a little and I know you said the download rate could be improved for the onboard computer.”
“Yes dear,” Granny replied as Tinker pulled up the designs for her exo-frame, which would serve as an excellent base platform for the powered suit she was developing. “I am a bit concerned about the prospects of this mission. If we can increase the download speed by another twenty percent then your part of the mission will have a seventy-eight percent of success.”
“Twenty percent?” her granddaughter asked absently as she reviewed her schematic. “I think I can do that.” Tinker's eyes lit up with the spark of ingenuity, her gaze locked onto the schematics sprawling across her screen. She delved into the complexities of her exo-frame's design with a fervor only seen in those moments of pure creative breakthrough.
Granny, observing through her digital vantage point, couldn't help but marvel at the unique brilliance of her granddaughter. Tinker had an unparalleled—at least since Aiden—ability to cross-pollinate technological concepts. She drew from an extensive library of devices, systems, and innovations she'd encountered or studied. It was as if each piece of technology she touched whispered its secrets to her, secrets she would then ingeniously apply in entirely new contexts.
The task at hand was formidable, boosting the upload and download rates of the exo-frame's onboard computer by twenty percent wasn’t a small ask. Yet, as Tinker's fingers danced across the interface, rerouting data pathways and optimizing code, Granny saw the genius of her approach unfold. Borrowing an algorithm originally developed for streamlining data transmission in deep-space communications—a field utterly unrelated to the exo-frame's operational context—Tinker adapted and integrated it with the frame's existing systems.
This cross-technological pollination wasn't just innovation; it was akin to alchemy, turning the base metal of raw data into the gold of seamless, high-speed communication. The result was a significant leap in performance, one that would undoubtedly give Tinker an edge in her mission. Granny, for all her computational might, was awestruck by the display of human ingenuity before her.
It was a good reminder of the unpredictable magic that was creativity.
“Hmm,” Tinker hummed as she finalized the design and ran it through a virtual trial. “The model shows a thirty-six percent boost in transfer speeds, so that should be good, right?”
“Of course dear,” Granny replied proudly, “That gets the success rate of your portion of the mission up to eighty-one percent. Unfortunately, it only gets the probability of total mission success up to fifty-two percent. Those are not good odds.”
“Never tell me the odds,” Tinker replied with a smug grin, quoting her favorite space smuggler.
“Heh,” Granny smiled at her granddaughter, “very funny dear, but not knowing the odds wouldn’t change them.”
“No, but knowing them might,” Tinker replied, sitting back in her stool and giving the screen Granny was currently displaying her avatar on a serious look. “How many times has Boyd pulled off the impossible? You calculated that he had a seven percent chance of killing the Last Dragon without losing a single team member. When I brought him the models you produced, he hit me with the same line. He then went on to explain what it meant to him.”
Tinker, her eyes reflecting the resolve that now filled her, recounted Boyd's views on mission success and failure statistics. “Boyd says that knowing the odds doesn't change the outcome. To him, it's all about human will, the determination to beat the impossible. He's been drilled since childhood to believe—and he lives by this—that as long as you're willing to push through, prepare meticulously, and do whatever is necessary, no odds can stand in your way.
“He argued that when someone tells you the odds are against you, it's like they're setting you up for failure, implanting the idea that you're meant to lose. But for Boyd, that's just another challenge to overcome. It's not fate or destiny that decides our path; it's our willingness to fight against the current, to turn the tide in our favor, no matter what statistics say.”
“Very well, dear. From now on I’ll only inform you of statistics when you request them.” Granny had very different views on the topic, but she was smart enough not to expound on them at this time. Instead, she would do what she could to improve those odds quietly in the background.
“I’d appreciate that,” Tinker replied absently, something about the schematic before her catching her eye. “I think if I were to change up the composition of the alloys used here and here, I could shave off at least ten ounces without compromising the structural integrity of the frame at all…”
Granny smiled as her granddaughter went down another rabbit hole of invention while she thought over the situation. The factor that was responsible for the low odds of total success was rescuing the Changed.
She was sure they were under heavy guard and her grandson-in-law intended to attempt to free them with only Silvie as backup. Both were exceptionally skilled and powerful. But the chances of something going wrong and at least one of the prisoners suffering a fatal injury during the fighting were high. Since one of the mission parameters was that there be no fatalities, the plan was sub-optimal—even if it was better than anything she, with all her computational power, could come up with.
There was no way to increase those chances with the resources available from The Devoted and the two teams Director Davis had been able to enlist for the mission. Pinnacle Watch and Vanguard Force were both efficient teams filled with good people, but they would be needed elsewhere while Boyd and Silvie were making their attempt.
That left it up to Granny to bring in more resources.
Being an AI came with all sorts of perks, one of which was being able to multitask at a level that the human brain simply was not designed to do. While keeping an eye on Tinker’s process, she discretely initiated a secure, encrypted video call. It was a protocol she reserved for conversations of the utmost sensitivity.
Her digital avatar would appear in a secure, neutral space while an invite was sent to a hidden Warden Post. Her avatar was a comforting presence designed to put biological beings at ease, despite her complex algorithmic nature. An image of Stepper materialized in the digital room, her expression focused and alert.
“Granny,” Stepper greeted her with a nod, her tone a mix of surprise and wariness, “I thought you were maintaining a direct communication blackout, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
"Stepper, my dear, I'm reaching out because we're facing a situation that could use your particular set of skills and resources," Granny began, her voice adopting the warm, persuasive tones she found most effective with living people. "Boyd—Crimson Paw, as you know him—is embarking on a mission of great importance. The stakes are high, and while he and his team are more than capable, the odds, as they currently stand, are not in our favor."
Stepper's brow furrowed, her attention captured. "What kind of mission?"
Granny explained, detailing the objective to rescue a group of Changed prisoners from a heavily fortified location known to be under the control of a hostile faction. She outlined the known defenses, the estimated number of guards, and the layout of the facility as best as they understood it.
"The plan is solid, but the execution is fraught with risk," Granny continued. "Crimson Paw and Silver will spearhead the operation, but they'll be stretched thin. Any unforeseen complications could jeopardize the mission and, more critically, the lives of the prisoners we aim to rescue."
