FORD
21 May 3068Repair Bay #G47, Solaris City
Solaris VII, Lyran Alliance
Ford looked up at this handiwork, a rare smile splitting his face. The bipedal mech looming above him seemed to look back in silent appreciation and comradery. Now you are a real Dragon Fire, he thought. Few things made Ford happier than playing with new toys and those plasma rifles had been particularly fun to tinker around with. Field tests for the Dragon Fire would have to wait though, as its pilot was halfway across the planet guarding some sandpit for the Monkey’s current employers, Interstellar Expeditions.
A voice from behind him interrupted his silent communion. “I’ll tell you what, if Monk messes up my ride, I get first dibs on that nasty machine.” He turned to see Kenji “Blackjack” O’Shea in his signature cowboy hat leaning on his crutches, a heavy cast covering his left leg.
“Stay on your fraking feet next time and maybe you won’t have to worry about it,” Ford responded. God, people could really ruin his good mood. Blackjack had broken his leg in the recent grudge match with the Krazy Kossaks and since Mbeki’s new Dragon Fire needed to have some work done, Monk had taken over Blackjack’s Gallowglas for their current assignment.
“It ain’t as easy as it sounds when you got three mechs trying to kick the snot out of you, you cantankerous grease monkey,” Blackjack replied.
Ford was about to voice a response (“get frakked” seemed most appropriate) when the hangar door began to rattle upward. Through it walked Jacob Hawker followed by several technicians hauling some tarp-covered cargo on hover-handtrucks.
“Abe, Kenji,” Hawker nodded. Blackjack tipped his hat. Ford grunted. “How is the Dragon Fire coming?”
“It would be done by now without all of these frakking interruptions,” Ford responded. “I just need to run some test diagnostics, but I think she is ready.”
Ford looked up at the Dragon Fire and, despite the current unpleasantness of having to deal with people, smiled. “She’s a real beauty.”
Blackjack snickered, “Hey Hawker, I think Abe has got a crush.”
Ford’s smile disappeared, “Go get frakked, you frakking hillbilly.”
“Now, now, Abe, I think I have something that might improve your mood,” Jacob gestured to the cargo behind him. Then he pulled off one of the tarps, revealing what appeared to be a series of honeycombed tubes.
Almost instantly, Ford was hunched over the device, his current companions completely forgotten as he puzzled out its identity. After some time, he got up from his crouch and looked at Hawker. “Long range missile launchers.” Then he added with a slight tone of skepticism, “This is Clantech.”
Hawker nodded. “Streak LRM launchers to be precise, in two racks of twenty.”
Blackjack whistled, “Watcha do to get a hold of those, sell your mother to a Canopian whorehouse?”
“I do not have a mother in the traditional sense of the word, as you might recall.” Hawker was unfazed. “I prefer to keep my source a private matter for the time being.”
He turned to Ford, “I was hoping we might be able to upgrade Trix’s Catapult with these launchers. She is developing nicely as a pilot, but they may give her the edge she needs. Do you think you could work something out?”
Ford responded absently, still staring at his new toys. “Yeah, yeah, I think we could work something out.” Then he suddenly seemed to realize they were both still standing there and turned to them with a scowl on his face. “Now get the frak out of here and let me get back to work!”