Knockers McGuinty was chief tech and possibly lone sane individual in the Defenders of Bunny officer corps, and had been expecting to hear a response from the her tech team. The orders were dead serious, and equally stupid. That was life working for socket jockeys; the mech-monkey had a few sacred institutions that nobody outside their community understood, and the cult of the potato was one of them.
You could buy anything on the black market, engines, mechs, weapons, seriously advanced AI and illegal chassis mods, but you could not buy a special potato. I drek you not; this one thing the mecha monkeys took to the grave. The only way you could get one of these crazy potato was to have served on the line in Clan War, or the insanity of Faction War. Only those who served the season in hell could claim to hold even one of these potato. Minsky, owner of the infamous mecha pilot only club held a party that was by potato only, and somewhere in that drunken orgy of decompression from the insanity of Faction War 1 was dreamed an even stupider idea. Potato Mechtathalon.
Three mechs max, armed only with potato will enter the arena and do battle. Again and again will these vegetable gladiators hammer each other with side dishes until their high powered crystal and niode machines are burning piles of scrap, happily roasting the potato that killed them. It was, honestly reverting most of the mecha pilots into kindergarteners at Christmas. The most reserved and serious pilots were laughing and rubbing their hands, eagerly waiting their chance to do.....salad....with their peers.
"Sorry man, the order is real. Arm the top mechs of all of our pilots with the potato they have earned. If they have won more than three potato, arm some with multiple. You had best be careful. I don't know why, but the mechs take this seriously too. The ones you give potato are not going to want to give them up again. The mechs take this as seriously as the socket jockeys."
"You missed the last Clan War, but I can still remember them charging into battle screaming 'Potato and Victory' " Knockers shuddered. "Our boys and girls are not that tightly wound sometimes."
The two techs worked to dismount the massive batteries of Exacto Shots and Six Shooters, and the focusing elements for the Flavian Spears. In its place they mounted large hoppers filled not with nickel-iron sabot slugs, but with potato. A massive potato gun was locked into the primary weapons slot. Once the weapon software began its handshake with the MIU, the Dreadnought roused from its slumber with a low growl. Knockers grinned, but her assistant tech looked alarmed.
"Yeah, the mechs, they know when they get the potato loaded that they bear an honor weapon. I mean you would be lucky to kill a butterfly with one, and they fire slower than a stunned Sloth, but the mecha are just as buggy as the socket-jockeys that pilot them. You give them a potato and they get all kinds of smug. Either you bear a potato as a champion, or you are just, nothing"
The assistant tech looked around, and whispered "Do you feel the other mechs, you know, looking at you?"
Knockers laughed. "You bet, there are only so many potato to go around, every mecha in the bay dreams of bearing it."
"I have to admit, I bring lots of popcorn and laugh myself sick watching these crazy machines and our beloved and not-always-balanced fearless leaders cheerfully potting each other with side dishes in the ring, like some kind of salad-gladiators. It's the single weirdest food fight in the galaxy, and only three lucky mecha from every lance gets to go, and only the best have won enough potato to equip them."
The tech looked back at Knockers "That is messed right the Frack up."
They laughed as they moved to the next mecha. The crane swaying over the next hopper filled with potato.
Submitted by John T Mainer #28840