Tales of the 1-I-Jacks #1

Tales of the 1-I-Jacks

Prologue Chapter 1

Closed doors, Open Windows

By Bruce Powell

“When God Closes a Door, He opens a Window”

                                             Ancient proverb

20 March, 3038

New Syrtis

Capellen March

Federated Suns

Leftenant Jonathon Wilkerson walked down the hall in the Bachelor Officer Quarters.  His dress uniform seemed much too hot for the day.  The blue uniform with the stylized sunburst over his left breast and shoulder seemed to hold him at an unnatural position.  It seemed he could even feel the weight of his red epaulets denoting his rank as a Leftenant of Mechwarriors weighing him down.  At each step he could hear the ring of the spurs on his feet.  He had been returned to New Syrtis after the court martial of his Company Commanding Officer in the Fifth Syrtis Fusiliers.  Jonathan had found discrepancies in the training funds given to his Lance and reported it…officially.  When he refused to pull the report, Quartermaster Corp looked into it and Captain DeLoiris was court-martialed for misappropriation of funds

Even though he was found to be guiltless in the crime, Jonathon’s career might have been over before it began.  It looked bright just a year ago.  He had graduated third in his class at the Albion Military Academy and was posted to the Fifth Syrtis Fusiliers.  He was given command of a scout lance and had actually seen action against some raiders, acquitting himself well.  The cockpit of his Valkyrie had two silhouettes painted on it.  He had been accredited with two kills, a Stinger and a Wasp, in the three raids he had fended off.

 

Then he found that his training budget was a joke and when it looked he saw that HQ reported he was spending a normal amount.  When he asked Captain DeLoiris he had been dismissed.  When he asked again, he found he was given extra duty and most of it what he knew was “skut work”.  He then took his findings to the General Accounting Office as he had been taught.  The next three months were a living hell for him.  He was removed from command of his lance and placed in custody, mostly for his own protection.  The DeLoiris family had important connections, while the Wilkersons were very minor nobility.  James, his father, had been invalided out when Jonathon was still a boy.  James had made the trip to New Avalon to see Jonathan graduate, but had died of cancer a few months later.

After the trial, Jonathon was transferred to New Syrtis, to be “reassigned”.  That had been four months ago.  He was shunted from one officer to another, but no new orders came down from Command.  He was so low he was coming from the Office of the Chaplain.  He has been told to “tell it to the Chaplain” so many times he decided that he might just do that.  The man listened and nodded.  But in the end told him that “we are never given more than we can carry.”  Not that Jonathon thought anything would come from it.  He was never religious, just thought the Chaplain might talk to the “Old Man”.

Stepping into his quarters he found a small room with a bunk, a wardrobe and a small desk.  He removed the dress uniform and put it away.  He then donned his normal day to day uniform.  He put on a pair of shorts and a mesh shirt.  Over this he donned a green coverall with collar tabs denoting his rank.  He then put on his service boots.  Standing, he felt better.  Leaving his room, he went to the Simulator Room and asked for time.  The place was nearly deserted.  No new units were in quarters and training facilities were almost completely unused.

He chose to use a Jenner, which was the 'Mech his father had used after capturing it in the Draconis March.  He remembered being a young boy sitting in the cockpit of the shutdown 'Mech.  His father had rebuilt it over a few years.  The 'Mech was his legacy of this father, but it was still on Rochester.  His uncle, who ran the family business of collecting the trace elements from filtration systems and selling them to pharmaceutical firms, still maintained his father’s home and workshop.  The business made his family well off, but nowhere near as rich as some of the families he with whom he had attended school.  Some of the scions of the uber-rich had called him the “son of a sewer worker”.

He tried to push these thoughts to the back of his head as he dialed up the training scenario.  He was asked if he would use a computer opponent or a person.  Since the facility was deserted he chose the former.  He entered the pod and pulled down the neurohelmet on his head.  He felt the now familiar and welcome tingling on his head, running down his arms and back.  He attached pads leading to cables to his arms and thighs.  He commenced the startup sequence, and the screen lit up showing a hilly dessert region.

His objective was to contact a small lance of recon 'Mechs and report his findings to his command.  He needed to live to return to his lines.  Moving out he started the 'Mech moving at a rapid walking pace.  He moved along and then his sensors recorded a blip.  He moved quickly, pushing his 'Mech to its fastest mode.  Soon the Mech was moving at just over 100 KPH.  He knew that the was closing on an unknown enemy rapidly, but trusted the ability of his Mech to get out of trouble fast.

His computer had located the blip and was working on classifying it.  Then it resolved to a Locust.  Nothing to worry about, but he was at a disadvantage in speed.  He closed to get some better sensor readings before the lighter 'Mech bolted; but the lighter 'Mech closed on him.  Jonathon frowned, this was not right.  The Locust gave up 15 tons to his Jenner and was seriously outgunned.   Then a green beam of light leapt from the middle of the smaller 'Mech.  It hit his right leg melting a small about of armor with the glancing blow.

If the “Tweety Bird” wanted to play Chicken he would oblige.  Jonathon selected both of his right and one of his left Medium lasers and fired.  Three bolts of green light leapt out and lanced into the smaller ‘Mech.  Two beams hit the Locust and one when wide.  The first cut into the armor on the Locust’s right leg stripping it of the paper-thin protection, the other hit the Center Torso near the Medium laser that gave the Locust it’s ignoble nickname (Tweety Bird with a Hard On).  Expecting the lighter 'Mech to turn and flee Jonathon was confused when it moved back a bit to take advantage of a small hill to protect its legs and fired again.

This was not right.  He shifted from normal sensors using Infrared to a magnetometer sweep.  BINGO…three more blips…all shutdown to bare minimum and laying prone.  Damn!  He almost fell for it.  But now he was the Hunted, not the Hunter.  He quickly shifted targets to the nearest of the concealed ‘Mechs and fired an Alpha strike.  Alarms screamed in the cockpit as the heat hit him like wall of flame.  All four lasers flashed out and struck the downed ‘Mech.  Then the white trails of the Short-Ranged Missile converged on it.  Not wanting to hang around to see the full effects of his handy work he pushed the throttles on his ’Mech to the limits.  Heat flooded his cockpit and overwhelmed both the environmental controls and the capacity of his cooling vest.  Soon the Jenner was moving at over 100 KPH.

After 20 seconds Jonathon jinked to his right.  And as he did the land where he would have been exploded in a series of explosions.  He had not even heard the alarm of the missile detection sensor over the overheat alarms.  He was now worried.  Either several of the ‘Mechs had made a perfect time on target strike, or that was not a light ‘Mech.  The hole that was left would have been good for the LRM10 launcher on his old Valkyrie.  The heat was dissipating and he took another jink to the right.  While this moved him further from his lines, it would be unexpected.

The slam of a near miss told him he made the right decision.  Autocannon rounds hammered the ground to his left.  A near miss shattered armor covering his Medium Laser housing.  What the hell?  This was no scout Lance.  He would have outdistanced an Urbanmech and that would be the lightest ‘Mech mounting a A/C10.  Keeping the throttle to the max he jinked back hard to the left.  As he did a blue bolt of man-made Lighting flashed past in a miss.  It would not have hit even if he had kept moving the same direction, but now he knew one of the ‘Mechs mounted a Particle Projection Cannon.  The heat in his cockpit fell to just the center of the Sahara Desert in August at noon levels.  He could think and would not roast.  He risked a glance at his threat screen.  Three ‘Mechs were showing.  The Locust, a Panther and ….Oh My God…a Centurion!  Now he knew where the missiles and A/C10 fire came from.  He needed to keep his distance from the Centurion; but the other two were heading his way.

The Locust used it speed to cut off his escape and fired a Medium laser blast that took him in the right torso.  His wire frame readout dropped to yellow marking a loss of armor in that location.  Then the PPC hammered into his left leg.  Anti-protons cut across the atomic bonds in the armor and it just ceased to be armor.  As the protection evaporated, his wire frame readout went totally dark over the area.  While none of actuators were damaged he was not so sure about the metal ”femur”.  He knew that the Locust pilot was just waiting for him to turn to take on the greater threat of the Panther.  He then made a decision and sprinted toward the lighter ‘Mech as he did he triggered a Medium laser in each wing.  They struck the ‘Mech.  He then flipped the selector using his thumb and fired the Thunderstroke SRM4 launcher.  The heat flooding the cockpit made it almost too hot for human existence.  He could see the red light blinking, warning him his body losing its fight with the extreme heat.  He was light headed and was fighting to maintain concentration, but his gamble paid off.  Both lasers hit the Center torso and melted the armor protecting the vital components held there.  Then one of the 4 missiles found a weak spot and the warhead went off within the body of the ‘Mech.

He watched as the bulbous body of the Locust bulged even further.  Jonathan realized what was happening and rolled to take the blast on his right side protecting his damaged left leg.  The end of the Locust was spectacular and frightening.  The missile warhead found the machine gun ammunition stored in the torso of the ‘Mech.  This caused the whole ton of Browning ammunition to “cook off”.  As it went up it destroyed the shielding for the fusion reactor that was the heart of the huge robot.  The miniature sun that was released quickly ate the structure in a ball of while light.

The carnage seemed to have taken the other Mechwarriors back a few steps.  Because Jonathan could run to the top of a hill and beam his contact report in.  As he left the hill a green light showed confirmation of its receipt.  He knew he was not going to get out of his fight in one piece.  The hill top exploded in missile and gun fire.  He was losing armor fast.  Then he realized what he needed to do.  Stomping his feet down he activated his jump jets.  As he lifted off both enemy ‘Mechs started targeting him.  He could see them leading his ‘Mech in flight hoping for a deflection shot.  He hung here in mid-air unable to change the trajectory of his flight. 

Once again his bold plan took his opponents by surprise.  He did not leap away from his combatants, but toward the Panther.  He landed heavily and winced at the damage his already hurt left leg must be taking.  But he was now well within the minimum range of the PPC that was the main armament of the Panther.  Also, his infrared sensors showed the Capellen ‘Mech lit up like a Christmas tree.  He was running very hot.  The blue lighting missed him but one of the missiles struck him in the right wing.  The indicator for one of his right wing Medium lasers winked out.  Jonathon stabbed down with both thumbs and fired the remaining 3 lasers into the body of the ‘Mech.  Heat washed over him as he slapped the override for the reactor shutdown.

The cohesive light carved a line across the right side if the ‘Mech’s chest removing armor and cutting Myomer fibers.  Then as it trailed off it sliced across the head of the ‘Mech.  The ‘Mech just stopped moving and then slowly twisted and fell to the ground.  Either the pilot was late on the override or he might have been rendered unconscious due to the head shot.  Either way the massive 30 ton ‘Mech struck the ground causing a small quake in the area.

Before Jonathan could enjoy the kill his ‘Mech rocked to the right slamming his head against the inside of this helmet.  His vision blurred for a few seconds and then he saw to his horror that the last strike from the Centurion had destroyed his left arm and taken the left torso with it.  He fought to maintain his balance.  His own natural sense of balance being fed into the neutrohelmet and feeding he myomer “muscles” of his ‘Mech.

Looking at his wireframe indicator showed his ‘Mech to be little more than scrap metal.  His damaged left leg was now showing red with a bad hip and knee actuator.  His estimated top speed was down to less than 70 KPH.  The damn Centurion could keep up and just take him apart with his A/C10.  In fact, the larger ‘Mech was moving toward him not bothering to take cover.  He knew that the Jenner had only a single Medium laser left. 

The cold realization came to Jonathan was that he was going to “die”.  That was not going to happen.  Tromping down on his foot pedals for the second time, he released plasma from his fusion bottle.  Azure flames licked out and lifted his crippled ‘Mech off the ground.  Thinking he was jumping to escape the Centurion fired an Alpha Strike to his rear.  But the smaller ‘Mech was not running away.  At the top of the arch Jonathon brought up the legs of his ‘Mech and as it fell he thrust them down just before he landed…on the Centurion’s head.

The left knee joint screamed and then froze in place.  It became a lance of steel that pieced the right shoulder of the Centurion and travelled deep into the chest cavity.  It also forced its way upwards into the Jenner’s body in a dynamic study of Newton’s Second Law of Motion.  Alarms screamed and howled as Jonathan reached up and pulled down on the levers above his head.  He prayed that the torque in the Mech’s body had not deformed it too much.  The ejection seat fired and he was slammed into the thin pad of his command chair.  Darkness forced itself from the edges of his vision to the middle.  He released himself to its embrace.

The lights came up in his cockpit.  Flashing on the main screen of the training pod were the words that spelled his failure… ”Mech Destruction”.  Now no longer trying to maintain the simulation of a cockpit’s heat, air conditioning flooded the room making him feel like he was a mile or so from Tharkad’s north pole.

He removed the helmet and stood somewhat unsteadily and removed himself from the pod.  As he moved to the other wall and went to log out of the simulation he noticed his chosen scenario had been overridden.  It had been manually changed.  Only the base Training Officer could do that.  Jonathon knew he had been a classmate of his former Commanding Officer, but he had never seemed to be hostile to him- until now at least.  Fuming he stepped from the pod to see five other men.  His furious retort to the men was cut short when he saw the rank tab on the man to his right.  He snapped to attention.  The man standing there was a Leftenant Colonel.  He was flanked by two majors and a Captain.  “Interesting move, Leftenant.  Did they not teach you are the AMA that Death from Above was not an approved strategy?”  The senior officer’s tone cut through the warn humid air like a whip crack.

“Sir, I had completed my mission and the Centurion would have taken my ‘Mech apart.  I saw this as a viable move….”

“And cost the AFFS a ‘Mech and perhaps a Mechwarrior.  While I assure you one of your talents might be hard to replace, the ‘Mech is invaluable.”  The harsh tone cut away at Jonathon.  So, this was the Training Officer’s revenge.  It seems he was to be humiliated and more than likely asked for his commission.  The Light Colonel twisted his neck and glared at Jonathon and then grinned.  “It will take a week for my neck to feel normal again.  Damn, I was not expecting that!”  The other officers all laughed at the older man’s discomfort.

“Hey, you got to attack.  He cored out my Blackjack’s head with the first salvo.  I had just started the restart sequence when … Bam!  Heat and the pod went dark.  All I could do is watch on the screen.”  Jonathan started to say something about a lucky shot when the older man in the back stepped forward.  All the rest of the men stiffened to attention.  The man in civilian clothes looked at the Lt Colonel. 

“Will he do?”  The other man looked at Jonathan and nodded.  Turning toward a confused Jonathan the man in civilian clothes handed him a card.  For some reason Jonathon felt he should know him.  “Be here at 2000 Local, informal dress, no uniform.”  He then turned and walked out.  The others closed ranks and followed him.  Going to the main training room he found it deserted.  Confused he headed to his room for a shower and to think of the strange day.

Dressing in his only civilian clothes he looked at the reflection in the mirror.  The man said casual, but this was something one would wear out clubbing.  Hailing a cab, he gave the driver the address.  He rode in silence as the cab drove into a residential district.  He was surprised when the car pulled into the driveway of a small house surrounded by a tree lined yard.  He stepped up and rang the doorbell.  As he surveyed the yard waiting for the door to be answered he saw a shadow of movement in the trees…sentry?

The older man from earlier opened the door.  A stiff smile crossed his face.  “Please come in, Leftenant.”  He led him into a well-furnished study.  The chairs were some form of leather and the smell of pipe smoke hung in the air.  “Sit down, please.  A drink?”

Jonathan sat and shook his head “no”.   The other man sat and seemed relaxed.  He picked up a glass with some brown liquid and ice in it and took a sip.  “Well to start , this meeting never happened.  For you see I am actually still on New Avalon.”  Seeing the confusion on the young man’s face he actually smiled.  “Or so most think so.  A series of jump ships will have me here and back in a few days.  My staff can cover or me that long.  In case you do not know who I am, my name is Quintus Allard.”  Memories flood back to Jonathon.  Once when his as a boy, after his father has returned home from the service, they had a visitor.  His father introduced him to Mr. Allard.  It was years later that he realized he was head of the MIIO.

“I must be quick and short. So, to the point.  You have made some enemies here and in the Capellen March.  Also, many of the officers indicted in the fund appropriation have powerful friends in the AFFS.  You might find your career is over, but I have a way for you to continue to be a ‘Mechwarrior and serve the Federated Suns.”  Jonathon knew enough to keep his mouth shut and listen.

“Through some contacts I have made plans for several new mercenary companies to come into existence.  They will be able to go where normal AFFS troops cannot and gather information on the strengths and weakness of various parts of the Federated Suns and their neighbors.  If you accept you will be released from active duty and put in touch with several agents I know.  I also know of a few others like you who might be looking for work, one of whom has some financial resources, a few connections and ownership of some ‘Mechs and an old Drop Ship.”

“I can arrange for the finance of a light lance for say 60 days.  This will give you time to get a contract, hire a few more people and get to where you need to be.  The reserves of the other person I mentioned can move you along after that until contract money flows in.”

“You must either accept now, or I am afraid you will be posted to a nasty piece of rock for the next two years.”  Searching his face Jonathan sees no trace of humor.

“So, this is an offer I cannot refuse?”  Using a line that was old before man leapt into the stars Jonathan knew his fate was sealed.  The old man leaned back and smiled wickedly as he slowly nodded.

“Well I guess I am resigning my commission.  When do I leave?”

“Oh, your commission is intact.  I will see to that.  There will be a set of orders in a day or so ordering you to detached duty with a unit unspecified.  It will be signed at the highest levels and marked ‘Eyes Only’.  All you superiors will know is that a ‘problem child’ was handed by someone else, which is one of my specialties.  If you ever return to the AFFS, you will find back pay and promotions you might have missed out on.  Everything is arranged.  Your things are being packed now and they will meet you at the Drop Port.  The Dropship “Icarus” will take you to a Jump Ship in orbit and to the location of your new partner.”

“What about a ‘Mech?  I doubt the AFFS is going to part with the Valkyrie I piloted in the Fifth.”

“That will be handled.  And you will have a listing of contacts, many of which will be looking for a nice Mercenary group.  You can choose from the contracts provided.  I will handle the MRB and get you a starting rating.”  The man stood and it was obvious the interview was over.  “A car is waiting outside to take you to the Dropship.  Good Luck, Mr. Wilkerson.”

03 May, 3039

Port Barrow, Crucis March

Federated Suns

The young man walked down the street with purpose.  He was a grain of sand on a beach.  The area was just outside of the Drop Port and the town was the recreation area for a local mining concern.  The people were mostly miners, shop keepers, prostitutes, and others looking to remove the pay from the miner’s pockets.   Signs at the gate of the Drop Port warned newcomers to the Point Barrow Military Academy that the “haunch”, and this area was known, was Off Limits. But this young man had a purpose and a stride that told any would-be muggers to stand off- that and the Sunbeam pistol in a holster on his right hip.

Flagging down a cab, Jonathan climbed in and gave the driver an address.  The man looked at him and shrugged.  Jonathan sat back but did not relax.  Allard had said he would send him to the most inhospitable piece of rock known to man if he refused his deal, he did not know that he would do the same if he took the deal.  Looking out at the passing buildings he was wondering what he had done in a former life to deserve this punishment.  He could see the dregs of humanity, and those they preyed upon.

Arriving at his destination he paid the man driving the cab and got out.  A two-story building stood on the corner.  A flickering neon sign proclaimed it to be the “Scarred ‘Mech”.  He entered the bar and found a smoke-filled room with a few dozen tables scattered around the floor.  They were grouped so occupants could see the Tri-V screens on the walls.  The latest match from Solaris VII was playing.  A reported grudge match in the Kurita backed Ishiyama arena.  Listening to the announcer, one of the pilots was the next Justin Xiang, but that was all bluster.

Walking across the sparsely populated room he approached the bar tender.  The man looked up and pointed to a small door to one side of the bar.  “In there, there’s a 2 C-Bill minimum.  Pay ‘fore ya go in.”  Jonathan dropped two C-Bill notes on the bar and headed to the door.

Entering the room, he finds himself looking at a table with several people sitting around it.  He nods and then takes a seat.  “I am Jonathon Wilkerson, I hear you are looking for a ‘Mechwarrior….”