Jet Jaguar and the Kentucky Cat - Day One
Day 1
October 17th 2013
Blue Grass Airport
Lexington, Kentucky
State Trooper Gally Ruth waited with a sign just beyond the airport check points for her guest to arrive. Being a small airport made it a good place to pick up the fen coming to help deal with these robberies. No DHS to speak of...in theory at least. A blacksuit was heading straight for the arrivals area. She swore as she recognised him. How the hell did they know the fen was coming here? She growled to herself, she wasn’t going to make it through the checkpoints before they got to the fen.
Agent Smith wasn’t a happy man, he hated the fen. While he followed the book it didn’t stop him from taking any opportunity to be a total asswipe to any fen coming down. He maintained contacts within the airport system so he could intercept fen trying to squeeze into the country through some of the smaller airports.
“I’m saying... it doesn’t come off,” A voice, mildly annoyed, and gruffly feminine. “It’s not armour, it a part of me,”
Ruth’s first impression was of a tall woman, clad in pearlescent white armour. She carried a helmet under one arm, and what at first seemed to be a backpack with a pair of wings folded into it. A few moments later, it became clear to her that the backpack was a part of the armour.
She had red hair, fair skin, and strange ears. Where they covered in plastic?
“It’s still gotta be declared ma’am,” The fen ‘agent’ winced at that. “And tested and confirmed that it won’t contaminate to local ecosystem,” Agent Smith, doing his job by the book. As usual, he was being a stickler for procedure. “ And your helmet. Also the Pistol and the handwavium in your pouch will have to be turned over.”
“That wave’s medicinal. I need that to not die if something goes wrong with my mechparts,”
“Well,” sighed Smith with smug glee, “It’s also illegal down here. Are there any other contraband items you’re carrying?”
The armoured woman just rolled her eyes, and turned out the contents of the pouch. Ruth couldn’t see what fell onto the tray.
“Just that. OGJ Identification, some money, my datapad, a ‘wavium taster, a Patrol watch, my keys and the ammunition for my sidearm. I’ve got clearance for them all.”
Smith’s eyes narrowed as he inspected the rounds. “.357 Magnum Steel-core Cop Killers?”
“Pressure helmets are armoured. Jesus man, you ask me to come down here, you make me fly on a commercial cattle-liner, and then you give me the third bloody degree about it. I have all your poxy permits!” Her anger flared. Thank God she didn’t bring her blades.
“We still have to make sure.” the agent said, unfazed and apparently enjoying himself “Now, about that iPhone you say you have inside you. Are there any illicit copyrighted materials stored on it?”
Ruth’d had enough, “Excuse me Agent Smith, do you wish to be arrested for interfering with a police investigation?” The Agent sputtered in shock, “What!?” She pointed at the armoured woman, “That is why she’s here, she is helping us with a investigation into some robberies,” Having put a hand on her weapon, “So I ask you again, do you wish to be arrested?”
The armoured woman turned and seemed to blink. She glanced between the agent and the cop.
“What’s going on here?”
Agent Smith was still sputtering while the other one was smirking. Not often you get to see someone burn out a brain clutch. Ruth scooped up the tray and signaled for the armoured woman to follow her. “Lets go.”
The armoured woman gave her a quizzical look. “I’m a little caught short here. You are?”
The woman leaned over slight and whispered, “I’m Sergeant Ruth, ‘Wavium crimes division. That hollow suit would have tied you up in red tape as long as he could. Come on lets get out of here before his brain unlocks.”
“Thanks,” smiled the woman, offering a handshake “I’m Jet Jaguar, Operation Great Justice,”
Ruth shook the offered hand, noting the troubleshooter didn’t actually grip, and returned the tray with her free one. “I’ve got a basic briefing in the van for you. You’ve may have seen the video, but we have better pictures from a early morning bird watcher.” She said, leading Jet out of the airport and to a police van.
Outside, Jet looked around, a little surprised at how small the airport actually was. Only a few commuters and business travellers were in the main terminal, some waiting by the baggage claim. The carpark was little bigger than a small shopping centre back home. A bigger surprise, it was mostly farmland around the airport, nothing more. A twin engined turboprop droned overhead, banking off to the North. Jet envied it for a moment, feeling her folded wings on her back.
“First time in America?” queried Ruth,
The America most tourists just fly over....
“Yeah,” said Jet, looking a little uneasy. “I though DHS handled this sort of thing. That git scared the hell out of me,”
Ruth couldn’t quite place Jet’s accent. European?
“Oh he’s like that,”
“Fen-hater?” asked Jet, “Are you sure it’s okay I have this pistol? I’m not going to get arrested for it or something?”
Ruth opened the side door on an anonymous yellow van for Jet. “As long as you don’t wave it around in people’s faces I’m not going to say anything.” The inside of the van was setup for covert surveillance with a seat in the back, a small desk for gear and a brace of old Pentium II PC’s. Most of it seemed to be little used.
Ruth climbed into the driver’s seat, “And yea, fen-hater, by the book fen-hater. He’d have used all the rules he could to tie you up as long as possible.“
“Thanks for the rescue then,” Jet looked at the passenger’s seat, and felt a little uncomfortable all over again. How long ago was it that she’d been in a car? “And yourself?”
“I think you guys call it ‘fendane’, I have friends that have gone up.” Ruth pointed to a rack holding a folder. “The pictures are in there.” She started up the van and pulled out of the airport carefully.
“Right, right,” Jet opened the window, reading the contents of the folder as Ruth drove. “Why didn’t you go up yourself, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Inside, there were pictures of the destroyed banks, reduced to rubble as if someone had taken a wrecking ball to them, a field with markings that looked like somebody’d dropped a frame in it to lift something heavy out, followed by six specially marked photographs. The first two, blurred and barely in focus, the third zoomed in far too close and the final three, a quadruped that looked almost like a giant bus-sized cat.
“Most of my family lives in this area. And this isn’t the sort of job you can leave behind” She glanced over at Jet, “That set of the mech thing where taken in the early morning by a bird watcher about a week before the first robbery.”
“That’s big...”
“Yea, has the governor really worried. We’re not sure what it is besides a mech of some sort. You can scan ‘em and send them off, maybe someone upstairs’d know.”
Jet thought. “Might be another transformer. You know Wave Convoy?”
Ruth merged with traffic on the highway towards Frenchburg, “I’ve heard of him, but don’t know that much about him. I’m taking you to the first robbery site, less people about, but they’ve not started clean up yet.”
The traffic was achingly slow. Jet checked her own GPS, and noted they were doing near 123kph. It felt like they were crawling along. The van seemed to close in around Jet, even with what felt like a gentle breeze licking her hair through the open window. It didn’t help that car seats generally weren’t designed for someone with a set of wings on their back and long legs.
“Right,” nodded the cyborg, “Can I get some rest actually. I’ve come a long way and I need to recharge the batteries,” she smirked, trying to hide the strain in her voice.
“Yea I know a small place near Frenchburg, they won’t ask questions. Family owned, one of their sons went up two years ago.”
“Thanks. If I can get a good wave connection, I’ll post this stuff back to Hotel Quebec, and see what they make of it. It’s a bloody big thing whatever it is.”
“They might, I know they stay in touch with their son, but not how. We leave them alone and try not to draw attention to them.” said Ruth, “The folder also contains info on the vaults. They where brute forced out of the foundation and taken in one piece.”
Jet sat, half stunned for a moment.
“...what?... wow. Now I see why we were called, and not the Patrol Whatever else it is, it’s not short on strength.”
“I don’t know if you’ve seen the YouTube video yet. That’s what forced the governor’s hand into asking for help. He doesn’t want a panic on his hands or it being set loose on a city. The damage from just trying to stop it would be costly.” Ruth glanced at Jet again. “We’re not sure how the vehicles working with the mech are avoiding radar even when they are flying.”
“I’ve seen it,” nodded Jet. “They fly it in? That must be at least a hundred tonnes on it’s own.” A thought “If they stay below about thirty metres, they’ll be hard to spot on civil radar, especially behind mountains. I used to do the same myself back home.”
“We’re not sure on the fly part. The pictures from the bird watcher where taken in less then ten seconds. It, according to him, was going really fast. We’ve also become aware of cellphone disruptions in the areas near the banks on the night of the attacks.” She paused to check traffic before changing lanes. “That weird flatbed might have something to do with it. I swear it looks familiar, but I can’t place it.”
“The flying lorry with that U-shaped yoke on it?”
“Yea, just can’t place it. Think it might be from a game.”
“Computer Game?”
Jet scanned for a mobile tower nearby, trying to hook up to a 3G Internet provider. She grimaced... nothing at all usable.
“Which one I can’t recall, but I definitely seen it somewhere,” Ruth tried to ignore the hair with a life of it’s own and keep her eyes on the road.
“Someone upstairs’ll have seen it if it is.” She sighed. “Reception out here is crap in anyways, but can you track the disruptions with the mobile phones, tell which towers are being affected? If we can do that, we might be able to tell where they’re coming from... or going.”
“Well it’s more like the signal is running into a wall. Sudden zero connectivity according to the techs we’ve interviewed. The hills and such in the area don’t help ether so connectivity has never been good.”
“And no footprints because they’re flying it, right?”.... a pause... “Clever buggers.”
“We’ve tried to track them, but they end about a mile from each robbery in a empty field. We have found marks that look like something landed in the area, some sort of lifting frame.” Jet checked the picture of a field, with a very distinct rectangular pattern in the grass, like somebody’d landed a fortress around it, with a tower at the end of each wall “Haven’t done over flights of the area near Mountain Valley where those pictures from the bird watcher where taken, most of our equipment keeps getting pre-empted by more immediate things.”
“I’ll do that after I’ve had some rest. Before I went up, I used to film high-speed flights and post them on the web. I can hit Mach 1 if I have to,” bragged Jet. “They won’t spot me unless they’re lucky,”
“Just don’t go around shattering people’s windows with the boom,” warned Ruth.
“Don’t worry, that’s just a myth,” smiled Jet knowingly. “And going that fast gets too hot too quick anyway,”
Ruth chuckled, “Alright, still be careful of flying over people’s houses. They may take potshots at you.”
Jet blinked, “Really?”
“Yep, mainly as you head up into the mountains, the area is pretty divided about the fen. Some will wave, others will just go get their guns.”
A shudder. “That’s unsettling.” she glanced out the window, “Is this it?”
With a nod Ruth pulled the van into the small parking lot. A rain-stained ten-foot satellite dish sat just at the edge of the woods, seeming odd to Jet for a moment. “Yep, the Little Watch Inn.”
It was a small motel, single storied with a flat roof. Jet counted ten rooms or so, and a reception office. It seemed old, like the dish, but still well kept. The grass was cut, and the paint seemed clean if not fresh.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning I guess.” said Jet, yawning slightly, “Oh... by the way. If anyone calls and says you’re on the global frequency... they’re not nuts. Listen to them, they’re here to help.”
“I know.” Ruth just smiled.
“Right so, they normally get involved in this sort of thing. Anyway, we’ll see tomorrow. And try get an idea whose behind this.”
Ruth nodded, “Keep the folder too in case you can get a connection to up there.”
“Right so. See you tomorrow,”
Derek Laramie was sweating in his polyester suit. Behind him, the dark shape of the ‘Cat’ loomed ominously, fangs glinting in the evening sun.
He was sweating.
And he was waiting.
A dark Maserati Sedan crept up the gravel trackway, crunching stones beneath it’s tires. It crawled to a halt opposite him, waiting for a few tension-building moments before the whirring engine shut down.
The driver’s door opened first... a bald man in a dark pinstripe suit stepping out. The chauffeur glanced around, scanning the trees, then the rest of the yard, then Derek himself. A standard precaution before the passenger’s door was opened with a quick button-push.
For a brief moment, Derek could see how thick the bulletproof glass was. It was so heavy, it needed hydraulics to move.
“It’s clear Mister Gordini,” the chauffeur said, his voice kept low.
Mister Gordini... Derek never learned his first name... stepped out. He was wearing a beautifully tailored Caraceni suit. He was wearing a look of fury that’d make the tide turn back and run in fear.
“Well. Mister Gordini,” Derek offered his hand....
Gordini looked at him like he’d stabbed his mother, and was offering him the still-bloodied knife.
“Son, when you realise how badly you fucked up, you’re not even going to say you’re sorry. When I turn around and you’re still able to piss standing up, you aren’t even going to thank me, do you understand?”
Feeling a brick dropping in his pants, Derek could only nod gormlessly.
“You aren’t even allowed to fucking nod in my presence. What was your job..... what were your orders, come down from the boss himself? What where your fucking orders numbnuts?”
Uh....
“That’s right. You take the cat and you make sure it works... and make double sure that none of the goddamned feds have any fucking clue it even exists until we spring it on them. Nowhere in there does it say you take it for a joyride through the countryside, and sure as hell I don’t see anywhere where it says to start knocking over some two-bit redneck banks for a thousand bucks... and get caught on some dumb schmuck’s iPhone doing it. Do you have even the slightest idea what we’re trying to accomplish here?”
Er...
“This isn’t about making a quick buck... retards, gun-nuts and jobless hicks rob banks.... This is about turning the unstoppable force of United States public opinion against those shit-eating dogooders up there. What do you suppose would’ve been the reaction when that thing started rampaging through Frankfort... when you got burning buildings on the news and little kiddies and politicians being taken away in bodybags?”
Well...
“They would be right royally pissed off, and do you know who they would be pissed off at? Well it wouldn’t be us. You do understand that the Freaks still need support from down here.... food, ammunition, bodies. You piss the US off, and they cut the Freaks off. Freaks wither and die.”
But....
“Now instead of pissing them off, all you’ve managed to do is annoy them enough to start looking for you. That Governor has already requested help from Freako Central, and you bet the President’s been briefed on this. You’ve come withing a penguins pecker of fucking this up beyond all redemption... and you know what normally happens to dipshits who fuck up as royally as you’ve managed. ” he turned back towards the car. “Sara!”
From inside the car stepped a woman in a flight suit... at least that was Dereks first guess. A split second later, he spotted the tail, followed by the ears which seemed to track each and every sound in the trees above.
Shit... oh shit..
“This is Sara. You’re job is to look after her. Keep her happy, keep her safe, and most importantly keep her away from prying eyes. She’s not your own personal fuck-toy either so don’t be getting ideas. Sara is a special piece of equipment... Sara is specially programmed by Grey himself to be the pilot of the big Cat. Sara is your fucking God. Understand?”
“Hi,” purred the catgirl, edging up beside him
“It’s too late for you getting your own ship after a screw up of this magniture... that ship has sailed... but you might be able to save yourself from coughing up furballs for the rest of your days. Now... tell what the hell have you done down here that isn’t fucking retarded??”
Um...
“Well... we managed to get a detective in our pocket, he’s been keeping the cops off our ass”
“Wow.... that’s like, notch 1. Maybe they’ll let you remember who you were when you’re bathing yourself with your own tongue....”
This was going to be a long night.
The owner of the Little Watch Inn, Janet Fokker, was a middle-aged woman, short and greying slightly. The shock on the her face when she saw Jet made made the cyber laugh nervously. A quick explanation from Ruth however earned her a discount rate. Jet noticed a small photograph on the table of someone in a dark military uniform. A heart-shaped medal was displayed beside it, with a collection box ‘For our troops overseas’.
Jet drew the obvious conclusion and kept quiet about it.
“Well we used to have a working interwave connection,” said the owner, “Using the old satellite outside. It’s been on the blink since August. If you can get it going I’ll give you the network key,”
“Shouldn’t be hard,” said Jet. “Nodes get shuffled around from time to time. Maybe your satellite’s looking for one that isn’t there anymore.”
That was the simple explanation.
“I been so worried about my son Roy, since SerenityCon,” the owner said. “Last message I got was in July said he was going. Especially after his father I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Jet looked concerned for a moment.
“You know his faction?”
“I think a...’gearhead’. S’what he usually sad. Was on someplace called Martian Sarah” she wasn’t sure if that was right. “He was a pilot of something he called a VF-1.”
“Right... I saw a few of those. I’ll check up when I get online,”
“Thanks,”
“One more thing,” said Jet, putting a finger to her lips. “If you get any phone calls saying you’re on the global frequency, don’t ignore them, it’s going to be important,”
“Uh... yeah,” the woman blinked. It must be come fen-code, she guessed.
Jet’s room was small... having little more than a bed, a chair, TV, phone, and shower. Of course everything was bolted down besides the remote and that was a cheap easy to replace model.
She stored her pistol, ammunition and the pouch containing most of her equipment in an empty drawer, then set about fixing the dish. The hardest thing about that was the forty questions from the two kids.
“Are you a robot ma’am,”
Jet winced.
“Cyborg”
“Like the Terminator?”
“The opposite”
“So you’re metal on the outside, skin on the inside,”
“Sorta,”
“Like Robocop?”
“Yeah.“
“Terminator would kick Robocop’s ass,”
And so on. Jet had to swallow her annoyance, telling herself over and over again that they were just curious kids.
“What’s it like to fly?” the youngest questioned.
“Ever jump off a tall building?” Jet snarked back.
“No...”
“Maybe you should try it,” she smirked.
“No... my mom’d kill me,” said the kid. Jet honestly couldn’t tell if they were a boy or a girl. Clothes gave no hint. Even the name Alex was androgynous. She shrugged and carried on. It looked more like the dish had just gotten knocked out of alignment a little, losing the satellite node it had been aimed at. A quick brute-force adjustment took care of it. Half asleep, and with her on-board power cells deep in the red, she allowed herself a satisfied smile as the signal bar crept up.
Then followed it with a deep breath of real air. The smell of cut grass lingered in her nostrils for a few moments, before she turned back to her room. Dusk was settling in, and the L5 stations where rising. The bright star of Grovers Corners was beginning to drop below the horizon, while Kandor city sparked on the rising moon’s surface.
A few fenships scooted overhead, seeming to chase each other across to L5. She picked out Genaros, with her own navigation software.
It felt strange to be looking up at the sky again. Not unpleasant... just a little bit weird to be pounding ground again. American cars looked funny too.
It was strange that she was sent, however. It made sense for a Kunstler to be called for a mech like that, but not down erdeside. Even so, it seemed more like a Kammer job. Were things really stretched that tight?
It was probably the closest thing she’d get to R’n’R.
After scanning and sending off those photographs, she checked for Roy the VF-1 pilot. He wasn’t hard to find. She smiled, saving the good news for the next morning. Leaving the bed alone, Jet sat down in the old chair, and went to sleep sitting bolt upright.
>> MIME encode complete.
>> Message length within key.
>> OTP connection establish.
>> Server Key authenticates.
>> Request HashPad d3841adcd395fc4fff47f075a7ccb49e
>> HashPad d3841adcd395fc4fff47f075a7ccb49e Server Accept.
>> Enciphering message.
>> Transmitting message.
>> Server acknowledges sane message received.
>> HashPad d3841adcd395fc4fff47f075a7ccb49e delete.
>>From: Juliette2@Grunthal.fen
>>To: alitagally@Grunthal.fen
>>Subject: Kentucky Cat
>>I’m on site. Local reaction was mixed, but better than expected. DHS were their usual
>>welcoming selves. My local law enforcement contact seems to be BBI, or at least aware of
>>them. It would surprise me if they weren’t involved in this already tbh.
>>I’ve attaching photographs of the mech used in the robberies. I don’t recognise it myself. Can
>>you get this identified? My first thought was that it was a transformer of some sort, like Wave
>>Convoy, but something this big’s got to be something else. It’s twice the size of a Dublin bus,
>>and at least a hundred tons in mass.
>>They’re flying it in to the banks, letting it do it’s dirty work, then lifting the vaults out wholesale
>>using a waved tow truck, and a pair of works vans. There’s disruption of the mobile network,
>>that seems to be caused by a waved lorry with a strange device on the flatbed. Local law
>>seems to recognise the lorry. It may be from a computer game. It’s not one I know offhand
>>I’ve attached some pictures run through CSI. The extrapolation is poor, but you can make out
>>most of it.
>>The Cat runs away about a mile or so, to an open field, where it appears they pick it up too.
>>None of this shows up on radar. A hundred ton cat-mech, and a truck capable of lifting a
>>bank’s vault in one piece... whoever they are, they know what they’re doing. Or stole it from
>>some who did.
>>Will be making overflights of the area tomorrow. Take some picture's, see if I can find
>> anything out of the ordinary. I’ll try find a thermal camera as well. A hundred tons of mech
>>can’t be that easy to hide, can it?
>>With a bit of luck, local law can bring them in when we find them. We’ll find out who they’re
>>working for, and where this money’s going. Too early to jump to conclusions about them
>>funnelling it all to the Boskonians, they could be Turnerites, or just some locals who got their
>>hands on some cool toys.
>>-JJ
“Sooo,” purred Sara, stroking Derek under the chin, “When do I get in the cockpit?”
The only thing Derek could thing about was how soft the fur on her fingertips was, how warm her touch was, and how soft she might be if he just allowed himself to fold up into her arms, even wearing that leather pilot’s outfit of hers.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, “We still have to check it after it’s last run. The computer’s going funny,”
“Well, I need something to ride,” said Sara, her voice loaded with Feline lust. “And soon,”
Derek gritted his teeth,
“The boss’d kill me if I touched you. He’s pissed enough as it is,”
“Oh he wouldn’t kill you,” the catgirl assured him. An assurance made all the worse for it’s earnestness. “Besides, trust me... in the end, it’ll be worth it. It’s just ten minutes of pain, followed by a lifetime of pleasure.”
She smiled, and her fangs stood out bright white. Derek swallowed bile, setting his face firm
“No, Sara. Let’s just get this shit done before it gets screwed up any worse.”
The catgirl recoiled, and Derek suddenly felt very cold and alone. She glared at him, her yellow-slit eyes, studying him intently. Like a cat studies a goldfish?
“Well, do you at least have any Doctor Pepper?” she asked
The robberies were Mike’s all idea.... he was going to make sure that dumbass suffered for this. It’d already likely cost him his ship, and if he wasn’t very careful with this it’d end up costing him a hell of a lot more.
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