In his century-long previous life, Leo had not only experienced the convenience and efficiency brought by the peak of human industrialization—
He had also been forced to start from zero, attempting to slt and refine nuclear fuel, and even assemble the corresponding products, all under extre urgency, high pressure, and hostile conditions.
So now, hamring machinery inside the cave was sothing he could handle. And this ti, he had an even better helper—
Naly, this bulky, oversized, improvised industrial robot.
The robot was sothing he and Dr. Toos had modified together. It looked bloated, but once unfolded, it was essentially a miniature slting plant.
The robot pulled out one large module after another, then used motors and assembly rigs to link them into a small production line.
Ore would be crushed into powder, placed into a chemical dissolving chamber, uranium extracted through an arc furnace, and the high-temperature product then fed into an electromagnetic isotope separation chamber.
Most of the batteries from the first batch of supplies had been stuffed into this robot.
But even that energy wasn't really enough to let it slt and refine for long periods.
So, the machine also carried a reactor furnace that could directly take uranium ore as fuel—
Crude, but useful.
The only issue was, when the robot was running as a slter and assembly plant, Leo was left short-handed for doing anything else.
The only other assistant at his side was the Tanzanian Minister of Mining.
Leo fed more ore into the furnace, then looked over at the minister:
"I want to make this clear to you first: because the equipnt is sowhat crude, the whole process will further raise radiation levels inside the mine—especially for workers near this machine.
Your protective gear won't stop it. You'll develop radiation sickness—maybe mild, maybe severe. But either way, there will be consequences."
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Mos asked nervously:
"Do we really have to do this?"
"We don't." Leo stuffed in another handful of ore. "You can leave, and I'll do it alone. But the efficiency will drop sharply.
That would greatly increase the chance of failure, and we might have to abandon this mine altogether. I'll still find a way to continue our cooperation.
But often, strategic failures are triggered by tactical ones.
For example—this ti, if the Aricans can drop steel soldiers here once, they can drop them a second ti. And your Defense Force, your mining ministry, your regulatory agencies… in short, your governnt—won't be able to do a damn thing."
Mos's mind went blank.
He was an educated man. He knew exactly what radiation sickness ant. He wasn't like those pitiful workers outside, who didn't even know to fight for basic labor protections.
If one day he beca deford, diseased, and half-dead from radiation poisoning—
Could he still be a politician? Would anyone still respect him?
What would people say? That a mining minister who studied overseas didn't even know about radiation sickness? That accidents happened under his watch during mining?
All of this was clear in Leo's eyes. He suddenly stopped what he was doing, turned to Mos, and said:
"And do you know what would happen then? Everyone on this land would beco like those miners.
Because your words are worthless. The only things that matter—the only law, the only truth—are those steel soldiers that can be dropped onto your land at any ti.
It's not just your soil being trampled beneath their iron boots. It's not only your citizens who will be poisoned by radiation.
It's you. You—and your entire nation."
Mos stared at Leo in a daze.
Leo turned his head, grabbed another handful of uranium ore, and shoved it back into the crusher.
There really weren't that many pure, idealistic, noble people in this world. Most people simply found a grand-sounding excuse to disguise their actions, to dress up their own desires.
Mos was exactly the kind of man who had learned to cloak and persuade himself with so-called civilized ideals.
Maybe when tis were good, he would brim with hope and ideals, telling himself that he wanted to give the Tanzanian people a better life, that he wanted the whole world to respect this country, to make it rich and advanced.
But at a ti like this—
He thought only of himself.
Beneath those lofty thoughts, what he really wanted was simple: to live with dignity. That was why he had those ideals in the first place.
But where does a politician's dignity co from?
Leo grabbed another handful of ore:
"Those workers just want to live, to earn a al. They choose to be workers, but beyond that? They can't think that far.
And you—you want respect. To gain it, you chose to be a politician.
But a politician's dignity—where does it co from? From lines of law written on paper? From the little placard the UN puts in front of you every eting? From teaching your citizens over and over again, patiently, what 'civilization' ans, what 'legal and compliant' ans?
Don't make laugh.
A politician's dignity cos from the dignity of their people. If your people work generation after generation in the mines like rats, giving birth to nothing but cheap, deford labor…
Tell —who the hell would care what such a country thinks? Who would care about you, the Tanzanian Minister of Mining, your opinions or your laws?
As long as Arica's so-called 'Human Rights Enforcent Division' doesn't crush their heads, that's all that matters. You? Get lost."
Leo grabbed another handful of ore.
"So are you going to work, or are you going to run? Maybe the steel soldiers outside will spare you. After all, they still need a minister of mining to sign a piece of paper saying all this was just a misunderstanding. Maybe you'll even have to pay them out of your national treasury."
Mos stared at the ore, his breathing heavier and heavier—
Clatter.
He picked up a shovel and, without a word, dumped a load of ore into the furnace.
Leo fed his own ore into the crusher.
"Good."
Leo then began dismantling another set of components from the robot's body—
This was for assembling a new weapon.
A brand-new plasma weapon.
Nuclear fuel would be placed into a container, compressed with a nuclear power unit, forcing an overloaded reaction.
The reactor would generate a small amount of plasma, which would be expelled through the container, then funneled through the barrel.
The barrel, fitted with multiple magnetic accelerators in series, would give the radioactive plasma imnse thrust, firing it at near-sonic speed.
It was a plasma cannon based on the design principles of the Centaur cha's artillery, but mounted with a nuclear battery. The shots were smaller, cooler, but much faster—
And radioactive.
This first version wasn't spectacular on paper. Manufacturing limits ant plenty of safety hazards remained. But its killing power against robots would be imnse.
"Hopefully I'll only have to use it once."
As Leo spoke, he attached the 1.5-ter, 22.5mm barrel to the robot's chest. In the chest cavity, glowing faintly, were nuclear energy conduits—
Power converging from the limbs, into the chest.
With the tools stripped away, the robot itself beca a mobile artillery platform.
"Mr. Lee." Mos, his face covered in dirt, suddenly spoke. "But if we rely on you to handle those Aricans, what's the difference?"
"First of all, this is our shared victory."
Leo replied while moving the robot forward, step by heavy step.
"Second, do you have children?"
"One is three, the other six."
"Unless your children are addicted to oil, we have plenty of technologies to ensure they grow up healthy."
Mos collapsed onto the ground, then suddenly burst out laughing.
"You're right, sir. It is a little different."
The robot trudged toward the cave mouth, the 1.5-ter electromagnetic barrel beginning to charge.
The fission reaction in the core roared to life, and as the high-pressure container ca online, the conduits shone ever brighter.
Looking at the familiar feedback data streaming across the systems, Leo suddenly felt a wave of disorientation.
He hadn't expected he'd have to return to his old profession.
Bzzzzzz—
The barrel lit up, a ball of superheated radioactive plasma chambered inside—
"One more thing. I'm going to na this weapon… 'Tanzania.'"
"Hah…" Mos laughed. "Can we use this engineering robot's na instead? I don't want our country's na stamped onto a weapon."
Leo looked genuinely surprised, though his steps didn't slow.
"That's fine."
BOOM!
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