Chapter 6
Date: October 5, 3025
So far, we had sold three vehicles since July. The pair of Hetzers had been sold as a buy-one get-one kind of deal to guard some billionaire's private estates, and oddly enough, we'd sold one LTV-4 (sans weaponry) to some enterprising youngster with more money than sense who wanted to go on some joyrides.
But after three months of just barely scraping by, it was clear that we needed to do more, make better connections, and start approaching people. With that in mind, Sylvie and I made an appointment with the local militia commander.
Which led to us standing in Colonel Ahmed's office, waiting for his secretary to wave us in.
"The Colonel will see you now," The young officer nodded at us with a small smile.
"Welcome!" the heavyset man grinned at us. "Come, take a seat. Can I have Jackie get you anything?"
"Colonel, I'm Edmund Blaze," I extended a hand and shook his firmly. "This is my partner in business, Sylvie Siler. We're the owners of Siler's salvage."
"I've heard of you," The Colonel frowned. "You could not make it at Quikscell, so you left to sell even more subpar products from the scrapyard."
"Sylvie," I rested my hand on her shoulder to stop her from angrily lashing out. "I've got this."
"Colonel, my team and I left Quikscell because we were tired of making subpar products. In fact, I guarantee that any product you buy from us, whether it's a Quikscell product or not, will work as good, or better than any other product out on the market today. I'll even put money behind it. Lifetime warranties for anything outside of combat damage on our products. We stand behind our work. Just give us the chance to prove that it's good."
"I can't just make promises or blanket decisions about things like this," Ahmed replied. "We do business with other salvage yards around the planet, but all of them have been vetted by our own technicians and repair specialists. You would have to go through the same verifications that they have before we could purchase anything from you. Now, I'm willing to start that process, but whether you pass the process depends on you and how your team performs.
"We just need our foot in the door, Colonel," I smiled. "If you can give us that, we can work everything else out."
–
–
"You should have let me slug him," Sylvie muttered after we got into the car.
"It wouldn't have fixed anything," I replied. "In fact, it would only have made this harder on us. The last four people we spoke to didn't even tell us that there was a process to go through to get certified as a militia supplier. Colonel Ahmed gave us the paperwork, the forms, and everything we need to get started on this. Hitting him would have prevented that."
"It would have made me feel better, though," Sylvie muttered, turning the keys and allowing the engine to start up. "Good job, Edmund. Hopefully, we can start to move past your Quikscell past, now."
"I just wish I understood why they hate people who worked there," I closed my eyes for a moment. "That rumor means we're not just overcoming a bad reputation, but some fierce resistance to us trying to fix the reputation in the first place."
"You're not the first group of people to break off from Quikscell," Sylvie admitted. "Most of them learned the wrong lessons from their time at the company. They produce subpar repairs that require more rebuilds than even the worst models out of the factories you saw. What little quality control exists went out the window, and their scams led to a lot of distrust out there."
"Then why take a chance on me?" I asked, wanting to know the answer.
"You looked sincere," Sylvie shrugged. "And you gave me the option to keep some of my grandfather's legacy. I figured if it ended up in failure, at least I gave it one good try before giving up and going off to do something else."
I opened my eyes and glanced at the blonde. Her eyes were focused on the road as we entered the outskirts of town and headed for the salvage yard.
"Thank you for taking the chance," I smiled. "We're going to build something that we can both be proud of. I promise you that."
Date: November 4, 3025
"Well, so far, you and your yard pass all of the qualifications, barring one," Inspector Bellucci marked everything off the clipboard. "The mechanics are impressed with your shop, and your safety procedures are far better than most of those we inspect. Unfortunately, we require that there be more than one Age of War era tank on standby for security. We can begin discussing the details of a potential purchasing deal of what you currently have in your inventory. But we cannot follow through on that without first ensuring you have adequate security on the yard itself."
"What kind of security we talkin' about here?" Billy asked, tossing a cigarette stub on the ground and smushing it with his boot.
"Standard requirement is a full lance of vehicles if possible, if not, then half a lance, some turrets, and a few squads of infantry," Bellucci replied. "As soon as you have the required security and can show proof of their employment, then we'll begin purchasing what you have on hand, beginning with the missile carriers you have."
Bellucci's eyes were on the pristine SRM and LRM carriers we'd restored to functionality, the fresh desert camouflage paint serving to show just how dedicated we were to not only function, but to form.
"You do know that we use a different pattern, right?" The militia inspector asked. "Why paint it that camo pattern?"
"Because it's the best looking one for this kind of environment," I shrugged. The old chocolate chip uniform never got old. Sure, it might be a fifty-year old pattern back home, but it was effective, and it looked damned fine. So, I was going to paint every tank, vehicle, and 'mech that came out of our yard with it. The paint would be synonymous with our brand.
"Whatever you say," the inspector shook his head. "As soon as you get security set up, give me a call," He handed me a card with a phone number on it. "I'll sign off on purchasing what you have here to fill out some of our motor pool."
"I'll do that," I nodded. "Thanks for coming out, Lieutenant Bellucci. Hopefully, your next visit is a little more fun."
"If you get done with what I said, then it will be," He replied, having made no effort to hide his glee at some of the projects we had in the garage.
With that, the Inspector and a handful of militia mechanics he'd brought with him climbed into their jeep and waited for the gate to open before leaving for the highway.
"Well, looks like we're gonna have to scrape together somethin'," Billy said after a moment.
"Looks like," I agreed. "Let's get Sylvie in on this and see if we can pull some new people in on this."
–
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"I told you so," Sylvie said, smugly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I warned you specifically about security."
"I know, I know," I muttered in response. "As soon as we get the security in place, we can sell all the missile carriers."
"We already have the equipment to outfit people," Sylvie said after she'd fully enjoyed proclaiming her righteousness to all present. "There's a handful of local contractors my grandfather was connected with; retired militia, cops, etc. I'll start reaching out to them and see if I can scrounge up enough to fulfill what we need while you and the boys get the rest of the security system we bought set up."
"I'll install the security," I sighed. "I'll have Billy and the others get some of those jeeps working. Might as well have our security patrolling with machine guns."
The vehicles would be necessary to cover the ground of the sixty or seventy acres of wreckage that made up the yard, and I wasn't going to have my people walking around that if at all possible. So, I grabbed the sensors and the batteries that came with them, and carried them out of the office and into the gray, beat-up Hilux I still drove.
Tossing them into the truck bed, I grabbed the radio and let the rest of the crew know what the plan was before cranking the truck and beginning the drive around the entirety of the property.
Thankfully, I kept a bunch of grease rags in the truck, because driving around the piles of salvage was a hazard. Not because the truck was going to run over something and lose a tire. (Though that was something that had happened). But because every time I drove by, I was bombarded with information.
Mackie-MSK-7A…
Hector-HOR-1C…
Demolisher…
Manticore…
The list continued and shifted as I went around, from small tonnage to the heaviest things this 'modern' battlefield had seen; this junkyard had existed for centuries, according to Sylvie, her grandfather had just won it in a game of chance and decided to expand it by trying to fund some Solaris Jockeys. (I still didn't know what the hell that meant. But I'd never been interested in fighting sports or racing.)
In short, it meant there was a significant amount of gear to work on here, and now we had our foot in the door for the local militia. A little migraine was worth it if we managed to get started on reversing our reputation.
So, I popped a set of ibuprofen and pulled over at the first place I figured the sensors would go. The directions recommended an overlapping field of coverage, and we had already set up sensors near the garage and front gates. With each covering a specific arc, I began to spread them out. Once we had full coverage and had hired the proper security forces, I was going to be selling everything we could fix and repair to the Militia. The missile carriers alone were going to net us five or six million eagles. A tidy sum that would enable us to pour into the business, expand the garage and our employees, etc.
But first, this task needed to be done, migraine or not.
Date: December 24, 3025
One of the few things I'd never really enjoyed when my company had first expanded back on Earth was the holiday parties. After you reached a certain number of employees, it was impossible to know everyone who worked for you.
Which meant this sort of holiday party, where booze and cheer flowed, was really only fun during the initial stages of any startup. Because everyone knew the inside jokes, we were comfortable with each other and not worried about offending someone with a joke or two.
Sure, it'd only been a month since we'd managed to get in the good graces of the militia, but ever since then, we'd seen the beginnings of profit. They'd been so impressed with the quality of our rebuilds that they'd asked one specific question that I'd had an immediate answer for.
When the Colonel had called and asked if we'd work on the product they purchased from Quikscell before it got delivered to the militia, I'd answered with a resounding yes. Not only were we willing to ensure the Quikscell products worked from the factory, I also gave them the same warranty that we gave everything from our yard. Lifetime warranty on anything except battle damage. Our products worked, and we'd always stand by them.
"Edmund!" Eddy caught my attention. "Stop brooding over there in the corner over budgets and grab a drink! We can worry about money later!"
In that, he was right. I could worry about the future later. The new year would be the new year, and with it, would come new opportunities.
"A toast!" I turned and raised my whiskey glass. "To our hard work for this year, and the new future we're building!"
Everyone cheered and took a shot, the sound echoing around the garage.
It had been a good first year. Certainly better than the first year of my startup back on Earth. We had a niche, now it was time to dig in.