2 - A Family Trade

Solaris City
Solaris VII, Lyran Commonwealth
5 January 3053

Cameron Mackenzie examines the power feeds again, and shakes his head in disgust. What a piece of junk. It came in at half price, because half of it is wreckage. He straightens up from the exposed workings of the BattleMech’s rear torso.
Rebecca Mackenzie sees the look on his face and grins. It makes her face light up. “Is it really bad? Is it going to make you swear, Daddy?”
Cameron casts her a dirty look. “Aye, it is – but I’m not swearing when you’rearound, young lady.”
Rebecca deflates a little. “Oh, come on. Call it a ‘big bag of shite’! You want to call it something dirty!”
“Now! That’s enough, Rebecca. You can swear when you’re ten. Not until then. And don’t you go giving me those big eyes. They don’t work on me.”
He’s lying. They do work, and every time they do, his heart breaks. Rebecca looks more like her mother with each passing day.
“Come here,” he says. His daughter gets up off the toolbox she’s been sitting on, and he lifts her up in his arms. “Now… take a look.” He holds her up so that she can see into the ’Mech’s innards. “That bundle of power feeds.” Rebecca points. “Aye, that’s the one. See what’s wrong with it? Besides it being installed by some ugly, cross-eyed idiot using his feet?”
Rebecca frowns. “That’s… shrapnel damage?”
“That’s right. Well done. All the lines have been cut. The laser down there is fine, but without power, it’s useless. I’ll have to replace them all.” Cameron sets his almost seven-year-old daughter back down on the decking of the raised repair platform.
She looks totally out of place here in this makeshift ’Mech hangar, wearing battered denims and a top that’s got a pink cartoon Panther emblazoned on it. Her blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she’s got grease stains on her hands. Yet there is no question in Cameron’s mind of letting her go to one of the schools here in Solaris City. He’s hoping that they won’t be here long enough for it to be an issue.
After all, the only reason why Rebecca’s mother is dead is because Cameron was off away trying to find Rebecca in that filthy, overcrowded refugee centre back on Morges. Now it’s just him and the wonderful little girl that Samantha gave him.
He forces the guilt back down before it shows up on his face. Rebecca doesn’t deserve to see him looking miserable. She’d only try to cheer him up, and that would start him off weeping.
He’s had enough of weeping. You sorry, selfish bastard.

Lowering the repair platform back to ground level, Cameron takes another look up at the dented 60-ton ’Mech and sighs. It’s going to take a lot more work to get the thing back into working order.
“I’m hungry,” Rebecca announces. “Can we go to the Burger Baron?”
“I’m hungry too. All right, the Burger Baron. But I’m not carrying you back. You weigh much too much after we have lunch, you know.”
“Hello?”
Cameron and Rebecca both look up. Standing in the open hatchway of the hangar is a man in a blue uniform. He’s got a small parcel in one hand and a noteputer in the other. Just behind him, parked outside in the yard, Cameron can see a blue hoverbike with some sort of corporate logo on the nose fairing.
“I’m looking for Mr. Cameron Mackenzie.”
“You’ve found him. Can I help you?”
The hoverbike courier steps forward. “Special delivery, sir. I need your thumbprint and signature.”
Nonplussed, Cameron looks at the parcel. “Have I got to pay you anything?”
The courier shakes his head. “No, sir. That’s all been taken care of.”
Cameron scribbles his signature onto the noteputer’s screen with the attached stylus, and presses his thumb onto the flashing icon marked ID Here. The red square blinks, there’s a beep, and the whole screen turns green.
“Thank you, sir. There you go.” The courier hands him the parcel. “Have a good afternoon.”
“Aye. You too.” Cameron looks at the packet as the courier leaves. It doesn’t feel heavy. What’s going on?
Rebecca nudges him. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. It can wait.” He shoves the packet into the cargo pocket on his left leg. “We’re going to the Burger Baron first.”
Cameron Mackenzie doesn’t remember the packet until much later on. He’s got more important things to think about, like making sure that Rebecca’s meal comes with a toy plastic Phoenix Hawk. She’s already got the BattleMaster.
Despite what he’s said, he does carry his daughter all the way back. He wants to make the most of it; pretty soon, Rebecca will be too big for him to carry.

“Well, well. ‘Trojan’ Horst. I lost 800 ryu on your last match, you know.”
Horst Nicholson stops himself from drawing his AFFC-issue handgun. Just. Opening lines like that tend to be followed by a bullet or three here in Solaris City. He leans back against the booth seating and regards the woman who’s just addressed him. She’s Japanese, maybe three or four centimetres shorter than he, and wearing a black leather jacket over a t-shirt and camouflaged pants.
He hasn’t drawn on her because she’s in the company of Carl Madigan. The Solaran gladiator grins as he waves her over to the bench seat opposite Horst.
“Horst, this here is Katsumi Kuramoto. She used to be with Silver Dragon Stables, but she’s in the same place as you are. She wants to get out of the fight game.”
Kuramoto nods as she sits down. “That’s pretty much it, Mr. Nicholson. I’ve got to be honest… I am about as good as I’m ever going to get here on Solaris. I’ve had a good season last year, and I’ve made enough to buy myself a ’Mech. I just don’t want to be here in a year’s time, or two years, on a slow downward slide. I’ve seen far too many people go that way.”
Horst pushes his empty plate aside. “So, you’re looking at going mercenary.”
“We both are, Mr. Nicholson.”
“‘We’?”
“Cameron Mackenzie,” Carl supplies as he sits down beside Katsumi. “A Tech from Northwind and from what I’ve heard, he’s pretty damned good.”
Thinking about the Catapult Johnny Driscoll has found for him, Horst can see the sense in recruiting a good Tech. God only knows what’s wrong with that thing. He looks at Katsumi, and glances at Madigan. His friend’s a very good judge of character, and if he’s confident about the MechWarrior next to him, that’s good enough for Horst.
He extends his hand. “What sort of ride have you got for yourself?”
Katsumi shakes his hand. “A Dragon. It’s DCMS surplus, an old hulk really.” She makes a face. “It needs a lot of work – that’s why Cameron isn’t here. He’s rebuilding the weapon systems.”
Horst nods. “Sounds a bit like the beast I’m about to buy. A Catapult that probably got thrown out of the scrapyard.”
“You’re moving up?” Katsumi raises an eyebrow. “I’d have thought you would have stayed with a Trebuchet. You did well enough up against that Imp ‘Undertaker’ Unwin was piloting.”
Horst shrugs. “Half of that was pure dumb luck. I want something with more staying power than a fifty-ton medium.”
She nods. “I can understand that, Mr. Nicholson.”
“Look, if we’re going to be working together, trying to find ourselves a spot with a mercenary unit, you’ll have to call me Horst. ‘Mr. Nicholson’ is my father.”
Katsumi smiles. “Alright, Horst it is.”
He’s about to speak when he pauses and looks over at the bar. The barman is speaking with a woman in a courier’s blue uniform. He points towards their booth. Hello.
Carl and Katsumi have both noticed. Without being too obvious about it, they both quietly reach for weapons.
“Excuse me,” the courier says as she joins them. “Herr Nicholson? Horst Nicholson?”
“Ja, I’m Nicholson.”
“I’ve got a registered delivery here for you, sir.” She holds out her noteputer. “Can you sign for it?”
Carl Madigan and Katsumi relax fractionally as he signs and scans his thumbprint. The courier hands over the packet, bids them all good day, and leaves.
“You were expecting something?”
Horst shrugs at Katsumi’s query. “Unless it’s hate-mail on the lines of ‘I lost all my money on your last match, so I hope you rot in hell, frack-face!’ no, I’m not.” He hefts the small container. “I’m guessing it’s a message chip.”
Carl raises an eyebrow. “Got your datapad on you?”
“Yeah.” Horst digs in his pocket, pulls out a Matabushi MS360, and puts it on the table. Then he tears open the packet’s wrapper, opens the box, and finds a high-density message chip inside.
He taps the MS360’s power stud and the device boots up. “Let’s see what this is all about.”