Tipping the Scales

Michael let out a low sigh at the bar and shook his head.  This hadn’t gone the way he wanted.  He’d arrived on Outreach with a noble title and  a wad of C-bills to his name.  He even had his own Highlander assault mech.  He’d stare at the financial plan for hours, he’d spent a month putting it together.  The loan officer had taken one look at his records and denied him the loan.  He was drinking his disappointment away. 

What the hell had he been thinking. Captain Hogarth…yeah, that was feeling like a great big fucking joke. He’d thought he’d be the second coming of Morgan Kell.  Morgan had a brother that went into business with him though. Michael’s brother had laughed at him when he told him what he wanted to do.  At this rate, he was going to have to sign on with someone else just to keep the dream alive.

“How you doing, Hawkeye?”  The blonde man sat down at the bar next to him.

“Oh, just fucking grand.”  He downed the next shot and had the bartender pour another.

“That sounds awful, what’s up?”

“Not much, Pryde.  You happen to know anybody who’s hiring a semi-capable mechwarrior with delusions of being a merc commander?”

“Ooh, the bank give you the giant middle finger?”

“Right up the ass.” 

“Aww, that sucks man.”  Pryde put a roll of C-bills on the bar and nodded at the bartender. 

“You don’t need to do that, I can still pay for my own booze, for now anyway.”

“Look, I just picked up a contract, you are my friend and you are having a shitty day.”

“Pryde, you know you’re an all right guy for a Davion.” 

“You’re not bad yourself, Steiner.” 

Jackson Pryde was a baron of a minor planet in the Davion half of the Federated Commonwealth.  He had come to the Barony by misfortune.  His older brother Sam had been killed in a training accident at the NAIS College of Military Sciences.  Even worse, his older sister Kate had been killed by riots at the Comstar facility she was the precentor of.  His parents were old, but capable of managing the family estates while Jackson hired out a portion of his baronial guard as mercenaries. 

“You hiring, by chance?”  Michael took another deep shot.

“I’d love to have you, but your Highlander is way too heavy for the kind of jobs we pull.”  Jackson ran a company of ex special forces guys who provided recon for larger units as a subcontractor.  Michael couldn’t think of anything his Highlander could keep up with in the Horsemen.  “You happen to know Henry Jones?” 

“The nutbar archaeologist?” 

“Yeah, that’s the guy.”

“Met him in passing a few weeks ago.  Why?” 

“He’s fronting a talent search for someone who wants to remain hidden.”

“He is a lunatic.”

“Only if you bring up his sister, or Zathras, or the Yankees.  The rest of the time he’s perfectly capable of being rational.” 

“You know what the gig is?”

“No, but I know the money is amazing, and the backer has deep pockets.  Like fronting enough cash to hire a company of graduates and put them in rides that just came off the factory floor, deep pockets.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.  If you’re interested, you’re going to have to meet him at the Black Widow Lounge.”

“Where the fuck is that?”

“It’s over in old town, in the red light district.”

“Of course it is.”

“Look, he’s there every Tuesday night, and the floor show is something you won’t see anywhere else in the Inner Sphere.”

“That good of a show, huh?”

“Might just change your life.”  Jackson finished his drink, left a 100 c-bill note for the bartender as a tip, and patted Michael on the shoulder.  “You take care of yourself, Hawkeye.” 

“You too, Rowdy.”

Michael finished his drink and paid up his tab.  He had a about nine hours to sober up before he was supposed to be at the Black Widow lounge.  He fell asleep on the couch in his office. 

The Black Widow Lounge

“Oh fuck did I misjudge this crowd.”  He said to no one in particular as the security guard gave him a pat down.  This place was loaded with mercs.  He saw dozens of different unit patches from units he’d never even heard of.  There were also Grey Death Legion colors floating around, Hansen’s Roughriders, and a host of other famous unit patches scattered around the crowd.  Michael had dressed business casual thinking this was a different sort of crowd completely.  The security guard had demanded to see his MRBC credentials before even letting him into the place. 

“Oh, what have I gotten myself into?” 

“Something to drink?”  A topless waitress who couldn’t have been more than twenty asked him as he scanned the room. 

“Timbiqui Dark, if you have it.” She nodded.  “Have you seen Tombstone Jones?”

“He’ll be out in a few minutes, he’s putting the last bit of prep into tonight’s show and then he’ll be over at that table in the corner.” She pointed to a large round table with a very private booth surrounding it. 

“Thanks, I’ll wait for him there.” 

She nodded and a few minutes later brought him one of the coldest bottles of beer he’d ever had.  The lights came down on the stage and the curtains went up.  The house band was dressed in a vintage looking setup from Terra, but he couldn’t remember where exactly he had seen it.  The lights zoomed in on the piano and the man sitting at it.  The music started playing, something he’d never heard before but it was fast and jazzy. 

“Okay I  think it’s time we blow this scene.  Get everybody and the stuff together.  Okay 3,2,1 let’s jam…” and the band kicked it into overdrive.  He didn’t speak another word for the next three minutes but the air was alive with sound and energy.  The band was good and warmed up by the end of the song and the crowd was digging it. 

“Thank you, mercenaries.  Give a round of applause to our house band, the NAIS Dropouts.”  Michael clapped along with the rest of the crowd.  “Now I know you all didn’t come here to see my dumbass play, so let’s bring out the man of the hour.  No introductions needed, none given.  All the way from Hong Kong with love.”  Henry turned his head and the stage lights turned to another silhouette emerging from off stage.  Michael turned his head trying to figure out what exactly that was. 

An immaculately dressed giant of a man sat down at the piano where Henry had been sitting.  Next to him sat a woman who looked childlike in size by comparison.  The giant’s gravelly voice echoed through the lounge.  “Looks like we have a packed crowd tonight. Don’t we, dear?”  he turned hi attention to the woman sitting next to him and she nodded along.  “Eridani is in the house tonight.  Looks like the Blue Star Irregulars are here too.  Why I think that might be Grayson Carlyle in the back of the house. Gray, does your wife know where you are?”  The crowd chuckled along. 

“Raise a glass for every stupid son of a bitch that thought he could make a fortune by selling his sword for coins.”  The crowd did and the giant took a shot of some alcoholic beverage that literally glowed green.  The young woman sitting next to him helped him pull his jacket off and that’s when Michael noticed he was missing his left arm at the elbow.  The woman sat down next to him and started to play something jazzy.  Then the giant started to sing.  The band picked up at the right spot and the show was on. 

“You are not the pretty brunette I was hoping to see at my table tonight.”  Henry said to Michael as he sat down. 

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Night’s not over yet, what can I do you for?” 

“Look, Tombstone, I heard from Jackson Pryde that you might be looking to hire some mercs.” 

“Tombstone is for the people I am shooting at.  You can call me Henry, or Doc as you prefer.”  The topless waitress brought over another couple of beers and Henry turned his attention back to Michael.  “You’re…Michael Hogarth right?”

The band was rocking the house and Michael could barely hear him over them.  “Yeah, my friends call me Hawkeye.”

“Good to know, Michael.  What do you think of the band?” 

“It’s a great band, who is the guy singing?”

“The front man of the Hong Kong Cavaliers, in the flesh.”

“No shit?”

“He’s an old buddy of mine, and when he’s on planet, he drops by every once in a while to get some practice in.”

“He’s pretty fucking good.”

“So what kind of a job are you thinking this is, Michael?” 

“Frankly, I don’t care at this point.  It’s either hope this lead turns into something or hire on with another crew.”

“How’s your family taking your mercenary life?”

“Not what I would call well.  My parents don’t understand why I didn’t stay with the AFFC, and my brother is well, have you met Thomas?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well that’s a kettle of fish for another fry.”

“Fair enough.  You got a girlfriend, or a wife back home? Any kids?”

“Why?”

“Merc life is rough.  Long deployments away from the family are hard on people.  You got any of those attachments to disappoint?”

Michael thought about Amelia for a moment and shook his head.  “No, nobody at home to disappoint to death.” 

“Stick around, enjoy the show.  Meet me here at closing time and we’ll see if the deep pockets want to have a closer look at you.” 

“All right, thanks.” 

The night went on for another three and a half hours before the show was finally over.  By the end of it, most of the band had stripped out of their other layers of clothing and even the giant had unbuttoned his shirt while he was singing.  The night ended with most of the band disappearing backstage and the mercs dispersing.  Michael was left sitting at the bar when Henry came up to him. 

“So I chatted with deep pockets, and he’s willing to meet with you. “

“Great, where do we go?” 

“Upstairs.” Henry smiled at him and led him upstairs.  The office was nice, but he wasn’t expecting the man sitting behind the desk.  He was a shorter man, with black hair that had started to turn grey.  Henry offered him a seat at the desk and sat down on the couch.

“Colonel Wolf….i was not expecting to meet you under these circumstances.”  He extended his hand.  Jamie Wolf returned the gesture and smiled. 

“Good to meet you, Captain Hogarth.  I hear you are looking for some work in the mercenary trade.” 

“Got a job that needs done?” 

“Why, know a merc who can get the job done?”

“Yeah, I think I do.” 

“Let’s start at the top, and you let me know when you have questions, all right?”

“You can go Henry.  Thank Ivan for me.”

“Sure thing, Jamie.”