Tales of the 1-I-Jacks
Prologue Chapter 5
No Relation… Really
By JV and Neil Ikerd
Shipcom RDS Farsight
Syscom Andalusia
To: Captain Biasi, Fbcom@1IJacks.Andal.net
From: Henry John Kell, doc@fb.Bellatrix.net
28 July, 3039
Captain Biasi,
I'm pretty sure you don't remember me, but I definitely
remember you. Let me take you back a couple of years.
You remember that comm station your unit took out on
Frazer IV, back in '24? If you'll recall, there were a couple squads of Chimera
apcs and a light lance of firestarters and fleas guarding the place. Let's be
honest, it WAS an intelligence relay, and totally legit as a target, no matter
what the civilian comms claimed afterwards. Anyway, you might remember that
annoying firestarter that kept popping up just long enough to keep you running
hot, then fading into the trees (and the ecm nets we had all through the
woods)? You recall how you finally juked at just the right moment and fused
that annoying little bastard's leg actuators? Well, I remember that moment
really well, because instead of crisping me on the spot, you headed back to
your dropship.
I never did know what inspired that moment of mercy, but
I sure didn't forget it. When I heard through the grapevine that you were
forming a unit, I said to myself, "Doc, that's the kind of guy you want to
work for."
I know that before you trust a former enemy, you're going
to need to know more about me. I've done my research, so I know you're a
straight shooter I can trust. Let me give you a brief rundown of what brings me
to your door, hat in hand, and maybe you'll agree to meet for dinner and see if
we can work together.
I was born and raised on Milos, my parents were both
pretty high in the local government. We had a good life going. Parties every week, vacations, powerful
friends... Until, as you may recall, the Fed Suns decided to try to "annex"
us. Turns out, you ain't much after your home city is nuked, most of your
family dead, and the local government frantically "restructuring" to
support the rebuilding after an incident like that. I was away visiting my
Uncle Hank. He had a fairly big chunk of land, with pretty good mineral
resources on a planet I won't name just now, to avoid any, shall we say, recent
legal indiscretions, coming back to haunt me.
Anyway, after my parents and sister died, Hank pushed me
to join up. He said, "son, you'll make a fine pilot, make sure you get the
testing in writing before you sign anything!" I spent a full tour in,
though the last year was kind of a shit show. They tried to drum me out for
cowardice under fire after our little encounter! Now you and I know that isn't
true, I just didn't shoot you in the back after you didn't incinerate me in the
face... I figured that was fair. :)
I spent a lot of time on desk duty the last year of my
tour, but hey, turns out purchase officers learn some handy stuff, make some
useful contacts. My uncle Hank died that year, a few months before I mustered
out. Left me the whole place. I figured, hell, I can sell it and make some
money to get me started. Yeah. The
minerals turned out to be "not economically viable for extraction."
So the land was not worthless, but not a gold mine, as it were. I put it on the
back burner. A month after I got out, which is a month I don't remember real
well, but apparently I gamble well when I'm drunk, since I had a little more
coming out than I did going into that particular casino planet bender!
But I got a letter from uncle Hank. Not a comm, an actual
letter. It just said, "Son, don't sell the place, not until you've looked
it over. It's a real beautiful location." Now I've been there, and it's a
nice spread, but nothing that special, and WAY out of the way. But, what the hell, I had some cash and
nothing going on, so I went.
When I got there, the house was just like I remembered,
nothing changed, and he'd been keeping it up. I found another letter in the
entry. Did I mention my uncle was a little eccentric and loved to play games?
This was starting to feel like one of his treasure hunt games. Even dead, he's
still playing! This letter said he'd left me something in the fridge. Only
thing in there was some condiments and a bottle of cheap bubbly. With a note on
the bottom, which I only noticed as I was tossing it in the recycler. Several notes later, I was in his workshop
with a car remote in my hand, and a note saying, "what would you do in an
emergency?" So, I hit the alarm button and heard a click under his
workbench. Pulled out the panel that had popped loose, and thought, "what
the hell is my uncle doing with a Fed Comm ecm control panel? And why does it
look like it's active?
My uncle was hiding a damn crashed Leopard with a medium
lance on board! Now, it was shot to hell and came down real hard, so much of it
was junk. But... I'd been pushing paper on this kind of stuff for months, and I
had a pretty good idea what it was worth. Except it was illegal salvage. But I
knew a guy. He took it all, probably resold it to my old unit, and only gave me
a little over 3 million of the 10-plus he likely got for it.
I thought about setting myself up on some nice beach...
But then I thought, why not get seriously rich first? I'd just heard about this
little operation you've started here, and I thought maybe 3 mil would get me a
stake. What do you say? I'm coming down tomorrow, can we meet for dinner?
Henry John Kell (no relation... Seriously)
****
“Gorilla,” Fred called out as he entered the bay where LilyRose stood in her gantry, her chest
open and exposing her half-rebuilt LRM launchers for all the world to see. Those parts were supposed to arrive in the
next could of days. “Is that box of
battlevids still in the cockpit?”
Robert Monsoon looked up from the wiring harness he had torn
apart in time to see one of his astechs fastening a replacement armor plate on
the Whitworth’s leg. “Remember, Bret,
tighten on opposite corners when you torque that down, otherwise you may
compromise the plate.” The young man
replied his confirmation and Robert watched him to make sure he did it before
he replied to his boss.
“No, boss,
sorry, Captain.” The unit may just be a
couple of mercenaries looking for glory, but the arrival of Leftennant Wilkerson had started to
inject something like military structure into the group. He was a sergeant now, not just some mechanic
working on agro-mechs. “Am I supposed to
salute you now?” he asked as his boss walked up.
“Not with your hands full of wiring and relay circuits,
you’re not.” The Captain looked around
and nodded with approval. “I need to see
if I can find that battleROM footage.
Some guy thinks I’m my uncle, and wants to work for me. Says I was honorable on the battlefield, the
kind of warrior he can respect. I
thought I might see if I can find the footage for the battle he’s talking
about.”
“I moved the crate of vid-sticks and battleROMs to the gear
locker.” Robert looked at his boss. The guy just looked out of place in a ‘Mech
bay. Who the hell wears patent leather
shoes, wool slacks, and a silk shirt into a bay where techs are working with
arc-welders and grease guns? As long as
he continued to get paid though, he wasn’t going to say anything. Working on Battlemechs was a hell of a lot
more interesting than working on agro-mechs and construction-bots. If he was honest with himself, Robert also
missed certain aspects of military life.
Any story that starts, ‘We were hot dropping on this border world,’ is
probably going to be a hell of a lot more interesting than ‘We were out
clearing woods for a new field.’
****
Fred pulled out the vid-stick labeled 3024- Fraser IV and plugged it into the monitor. There were about 60 files available, but only
7 labeled ‘Active Ops.’ He started
pulling those up and quickly scanned through them at 10x speed. On the third one he caught sight of the
distinctively weird lines of a FS-9H
Firestarter. He slowed it down and
watched it through three times before he made a decision. “Mrs. Winters, can you locate Wilkerson and
have him come in. I’d like his opinion
on something. I think we may have found
another pilot.”
He opened up his mini-comp and pulled up the email from one Henry
John Kell. A quick search of FSNex, a
Federated Suns-centric database system that was used for back-ground checks by
commercial employers revealed that indeed a Henry John Kell, born on Milos, had
served with the CCAF, was not a wanted criminal, and was currently a civilian
(employer not recorded). The data was at
least 6 months old, but it was as good as he was likely to get this far from
the capital. A couple of calls to some
salvagers he knew turned up a line on a couple of light Mech’s, including a Firestarter that needed some work.
After viewing the video of the battle on Frazer IV and
discussing it with Jonathan, Fred opened his mini-comp and replied to Mr.
Kell.
---------
Syscom Andalusia
Shipcom RDS Farsight
To: Henry John Kells, doc@fb.Bellatrix.net
From: Captain di Biasi, Fbcom@1IJacks.Andal.net
28 July, 3039
Mr. Kell,
Thank you for reaching out to me. I will admit that I had to go back and look
at the battlevids from Frazer to remember that event you were talking
about. That day was a little hectic, and
as you well know, after a while one battlefield starts to look much like another. In reviewing the full footage from that day,
I was impressed by your tenacity and your command of the tactics used by such a
specialized 'Mech. I would be happy to
meet with you once you make planetfall.
Please comm my Executive Assistant, Mrs. Winters, at +03-145225 x5, upon
your arrival.
Sincerely,
Frederick di Biasi
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