The line
Feedstock. Mould. Assemble.
Prove. Account.
Five stations, in order, inside containerized modules. Pellets arrive at the first and a serialized round leaves the last, and every station is fixtured so the round comes out the same way on any crew.
Feedstock is the sovereignty argument in material form. A stockpile that is imported can be embargoed, sunk or simply delayed. A feedstock stream collected at home cannot. The materials boundary travels with the cell as process doctrine: recycled content where it is right, qualified resin where structure depends on it. Structural parts are moulded glass-filled nylon, and recycled PET is strictly non-structural.
Skill lives in the tooling rather than in the operator. Fixtures locate, augers meter, and torque is set by the jig, so a trained local crew runs the station and the fixtures guarantee the round. What comes off the bench is a moulded polymer carrier with a dumb mass in its nose. There are no electronics to install, no seeker to align and nothing to arm.
The launcher is pneumatic, and the proof shot is a burst of air into a backstop metres away. No propellant is burned because no propellant exists, in the round, in the launcher or in the building. A round that passes gauge, balance and lane gets its serial. One that fails goes back to the regrind bin at Station 01.
Every proven round is serialized against the cell's production ledger, the same ledger that meters the per-round licence on Canadian Shield's design IP and schedules calibration, consumables and die rotation. For the buyer that ledger is sovereignty made auditable: they can show any inspector exactly what was made, when, and from what. For Canada it is the licence made enforceable. One book serves both flags, by design.
The launcher is pneumatic. No propellant is burned at any station, because no propellant exists in the process.