Ancient Memories

[monbvol]

Ancient Memories

Prologue

”Legends, myths, campfire stories.  Every culture has them.  Tales of monsters that go bump in the night.  Wondrous but terrible creatures that would make any sane person piss themselves if they met one.

Well I met one.

And you know what?  Despite everything I didn’t piss myself.

I suppose now you’ll be expecting me to say that humans are the real monsters.  Sure I met a good number that would qualify as monsters.  I even killed quite a few and thus might qualify as one myself  Indeed humanity can do some pretty monstrous stuff to itself all on its own.

So I’ll meet you part way.  Monster isn’t what you’re born as, it is what you choose to be.  Fate always allows some choice in that matter but it’s not always an easy choice nor is it a good, true proper choice, but it is always a choice.  I made mine.  Now I walk a path that I don’t know where it leads.  But I do know I would be ill prepared for it if I hadn’t come into the service of Mike’s Murderhobos.

I suspect my soul will always be tainted by what I did.  Who knows.”

Audio diary of Ceilidh Markus-Time stamp 21-Dec-3072
Recovered from the wreckage of Dropship Summer’s Wrath
Cthulhu Machula
Pluto
Sol system
21 December 3083

”Damnest thing about that recording.  According to the timestamps of when it started and stopped, it matches up perfectly with the Winter Solstice on Terra.  Right down to the point where the sun slips past the gap in Stonehenge.  A rather superstitious friend of mine did the calculations and confirmed it.

He’s big into that astrology and mysticism stuff despite being a damn astrophysicist.

While I don’t give that stuff much stock I still have to admit it was creepy when he proved it.  He took us out to Stonehenge for Winter Solstice 3104 and hit play.  Damned creepy.  Especially when you consider when and where we found it.

So yeah I put in my papers.  Enough was enough.”

Sergeant(Retired) Trellane Goffre
Service departure Interview
Republic of the Sphere Armed Forces
21 June 3105


Dunrobin Castle
Northern Scotland
Terra
As Stone’s Coalition was landing on Terra

The quiet crackling of the fire joined with the flickers of flame in providing ambience to the bedroom.

Outside it was a cold foggy morning in Scotland.  Which was nothing new.

Looking out a window to the south was a young blond woman in a simple white dress.  A black metal collar on her neck with a similar black metal band on each wrist.

Another figure came into the room, tossing another piece of wood on the fire.

The woman looked at the new arrival with a faint smile on her face.

A man in a professional blue suit with black tie.  His black hair and brown eyes and fair skin tone  given slight hues of other colors as the fire flickered and shadows danced over his features.

“This is it isn’t it?  The end of our story.”  The man asked.

“Yes.  It may be a few days yet before they actually find us, weeks, or even months.  But it is the end for us.”  The woman stepped towards the man.

“All our time together, all our time apart.  Who would have thought it would end like this…”  The man embarrassed the woman.

“I think we both did.  In another life.  We just denied it in this one.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”  The man asked.

“Nothing now.  It is time for us to complete our ancient oaths.”  The woman nodded and allowed herself to be taken to the bed.

“Dawnstar of the Goldscales.”

“Michael!…Ooooh.”

South of Dunrobin Castle

Colonel Samual Wallace had been given very specific instructions.  They were somewhat unusual but there was no questioning them.

The rolling hills were the only cover on approach to Dunrobin Castle.

Outside its gates was the Thug that had become infamous across the Inner sphere.  No one else dared configure their Thug in this manner, nor did they dare use the paint scheme or wear the crest.

It was all far too good of a way to get oneself dead and in a hurry, even more so in the less civilized parts of human occupied space.

Colonel Wallace and his special operation company would soon join battle.

This isn't to be war, 'tis pest-control.  Finishing the band of "mercenaries" for good, cutting their head off so it can't regenerate, cauterizing it.

Brining an end to a mercenary unit less famous than the Bounty Hunter, but only because the Bounty Hunter exists. 

Mike's Murderhobos goes back a long time, Sam knew, a succession over history, on the fringes, really, maybe back as far as the third succession war?  The Bounty Hunter's prices are high, his victims high profile and high priority.

The man that Thug belongs to? Will kill anyone, for anyone, had done so, even, and by reputation, for rates that were as inconsistent as they could possibly be.  The rumours had it, Mike and his Murderhobos once dismantled a Pirate Battalion for less than the price of a pallet of autocannon ammunition.  Their client being a poor survivor of a raid, it was enough, so the stories say, that it was all that that refugee had. 

The Murderhobos will kill whomever you want, but it costs you everything you have.

They'd come here, to Terra, just ahead of Stone's coalition, to kill someone…and they were still here.

***

"Their location is confirmed, My Master."

"The instructions were given, I trust?"  The Master asked his…friend? Confidante?

"Yes sir.  They won't get away, it's the last of them, you know…just Michael and their handler."

"The Creature." he nodded.  "The selected unit was chosen correctly?"

"Yes sir.  There were some doubts about your choices…"

"Men with no stain, you mean? The lack of experience?"

"Yes sir…and the…purity you insisted on.  I do not understand why, sir?"

"Necessarily, an act of such…importance must be carried out by men unstained and untainted.  Single men, men whom are…pure of heart, and resistant to temptations from that heart.  Faithful, loyal, and unstained by questionable actions."

"Yes my Master."

In the skies, the approaching Coalition of allies, carefully arranged through numerous cut-outs, and the chosen Messiah were burning toward Earth.

This, will cleanse the taint and allow mankind to advance at long last.  It's a small price to pay-to be rid of the Alien and her final servant.  a small sacrifice-for the future of mankind.

No matter how else things shake out, the future of humanity would be in human hands, not the plaything of an ancient outsider…

To be Continued!

Part One: The Star League's Fall

1. I left my baby lying here,
Lying here, lying here
I left my baby lying here
To go and gather blueberries.
Refrain
Hovan, hovan gorry o go, gorry o go, sorry o go,
Hovan, hovan gorry o go, I’ve lost my darling baby o.
2. I found the wee brown otter’s track
Otter’s track, otter’s track
I found the wee brown otter’s track
But ne’er a trace o’ my baby, O! Refrain
3. I found the track of the swan on the lake
Swan on the lake, swan on the lake
I found the track of the swan on the lake
But not the track of baby, O! Refrain
4. I found the trail of the mountain mist
Mountain mist, mountain mist
I found the trail of the mountain mist
But ne’er a trace of baby, O! Refrain
"Highland Faerie Lullaby"-Scottish Traditional[/i]

Chapter One, Theresa's Song in Summertime


15 November, 2779, Dunrobin Castle, British isles, Terra

The Amaris Empire's forces included some locals, this was inevitable, but it meant that Sgt. Michael Garrow knew he would not just be killing Rim Worlders or their mercenaries, he'd be killing fellow Scots.

He found himself surprisingly okay with doing exactly that.  "Let's break them, boys."  the orders came from one of Kerensky's aides, they had heard a rumour that collabo troops were holed up in Dunrobin, in the reconstructed castle there as if the ancient stones would serve as well as reinforced Ferrocrete and warship armor composites.

He twitched his Thug into a steady walk, as the line of his Lance shook out.  For the last decade, he'd been part of a 'troubleshooting' unit-passed from Regiment to Regiment, front to front, to deal with special little jobs for the war effort, no real 'home' regiment after his had been destroyed, just a group of what General Dobson called 'Murder-hobos'.

Mike didn't think of himself as an 'elite', much less an officer, though he commanded a short company of battlemechs.  He was merely a soldier, one who got reassigned to the next most horrible situations once the current horrible situation was resolved.

The recon photos of the castle did show some modern improvements, mostly in an outer wall and gate.  Though it still didn’t quite look like a fortress and the castle itself showed little change from its traditional construction.

Desperate, they must be desperate.  There are no other hardened structures for kilometers.  Barely any human habitation in the region at all.  Something’s off.  I’ll just have to figure it out and deal with it when we get there.

The fog they were making their way through was slowing them but their pace was still good through the gently rolling hills.

It was not the best defensive terrain, neither was it the worst.  A tank column would be slowed more than a Battlemech column, but that was the advantage of the Mech.  It could go places conventional forces couldn’t and maintain better pace through many of the areas they overlapped.

Nixon was the first to see the defenders moving.  "Sighting five o'clock, Rampage, and looks like a Highlander and a Flashman, near the southeast marker barrier."  Carl Nixon had been with him in some real hell-holes, the Orion pilot was good for spotting things like that. The enemy commander had seen them, and was trying to array for an ambush formation.

Well, we knew they'd do that, didn't we?  "Take Vien and Styles, and Ekhardt, give the bastards what-for, Nix, I'll keep their bloody line ahead focused on us."

"Aye boss."

"First lance! Forward at a trot, Gilmaren, some psyops music, if you please?"

There was no stealth, so no point in being stealthy, and bagpipe music played through the Public Address systems of a Warhammer is loud enough to shake windows, even at this distance.

“Contact report.  Looks like they have a salvaged Dragon on the north side of the castle.” Ian McMillan reported from his Spotter Plane.

"The prototype? Shame.  Let's kill it, too.  Watch your backstops, we're here as much to capture an asset, as we are to kill the enemy."

"What kind of asset?"

"They didn't say."

"You know what we could ****** use boss?"  Lara Straine, his Archer pilot asked.

"What?"

"Those crazy ****** from the one seven one."

"We can't, they went home after Elbar.  The General was afraid of possible war crimes, so he sent the whole lot home after disarming them."

“Now that’s a shame.”  Lara’s sigh was audible over the channel.

Defense turrets began opening fire with light autocannon and small LRM systems.

A lance and a few turrets, definitely not a fortress.  No hangers, no bays.  But this will still sting a little if we get careless.

Mike triggered the PPCs of his Thug and silenced one of the autocannon turrets with ease.

Lara’s LRMs rained down on the enemy Rampage  while Vien, Sykes, Eckhardt, and Nixon added their own fire into the mech.

The Rampage tried to reach out with its own weapons but was only able to graze Nixon’s Orion before the combined fire of four mechs with excellent gunners brought it low.

In truth, it would have been easier to have a unit like the 171 contributing today.  The target was soft, and infantry ground, and they didn't have infantry with them for this.  Not impossible, of course, but much more difficult.

Mike picked a spot, ahead, and jogged up, punching the jump-jets and climbing almost directly across from the Highlander whose own jump lifted the 90 ton assault into the air.

He felt the flow a 'mechwarrior feels, bringing his twin PPC's in line with the suborned SLDF machine's gauss rifle arm.

Synthetic lightning, the byproduct of stripped atomic nuclei hitting in a pair of firehose streams, and the enemy Highlander's course altered as the gauss rifle exploded.

The slug from the rifle impacted a fraction of a second later, stipping off a gash of armor on his mech’s left torso.

With its main weapon gone now though the Highlander was trying to close in. Which is not what you want to do when your secondary weapons are an LRM rack, but Mike really didn't expect much from an Amaris trooper in a high-end 'mech-most of the Elites were in Unity city, and by now, were also in past-tense.

The Highlander came down hard and wrong from it’s jump thanks to suddenly missing a large chunk of its mass.

Mike felt the arc of his own jump ending, and the fall of gravity beginning, he shifted slightly with short burst from his jets, and brought his reinforced fist down on the other machine's cockpit.  The HGN-732's head armor is…brittle.  Eighty tons carrying a fist like a wrecking ball into the soft, flat top of that cockpit?

He drew up a hand actuator covered in red.

It wasn't mercy, or non-mercy, there was no cruelty about it, the enemy 'mechwarrior was an enemy, and Mike had no way to provide for prisoners-better not to let them try to surrender.

The Flashman seemed to think retreat was an option as it started making a break for it.

Meanwhile the Dragon was also backpedaling, sending its LRM and autocannon shots at Lara’s Archer.

Lara’s Archer and Nixon’s Orion returned LRM fire.

The Rampage was not as out of action yet as the unit thought as it rose from the ground.

Mike pivoted on his left foot, making the third point in the triangle aimed at the Rampage, whose rear armor presented a nice picture now, in his targeting reticle.  Range 185 meters  he fired, burrowing into the assault's already chewed upon rear armor plates.

The reward was a gout of plasma as the fusion toroids of the machine's fusion engine vented through the shiny new holes in its armor.  His second PPC skinned the head armor off from behind as well, leaving the pilot exposed as Lara's volley and Nixon's volley struck again.

Vien and Eckhardt were chasing after the Flashman, picking at it from beyond its ability to return fire.  Their Griffin mechs slinging accurate PPC and LRM fire as they hounded it.

The Flashman made a mistake, zigged when he ought to have zagged.

Vien's shot speared through the prominent cockpit windows on the big, round 'mech.

Eckhardt's missiles just seemed to follow the ionization trail into the machine's low, fixed forward head.

Styles came up behind the Dragon her Wolverine's short range missiles hammering and tearing at the rear of the enemy machine, right ahead of a kick, then, an elbow-strike that finished the armor on the enemy machine's rear torso.  Her machineguns simply finished the heavy's engine.  She didn't even bother with her autocannon.  It fell forward, and she strode forward, wading through the ruined torso and stepping on the head…twice, once on it, once through it.  Before striding carelessly to link up with her lance-mates.

"Okay, let's find out why we're here…"

Styles took up position to provide overwatch on the main entrance with Nixon, Vien, and Lara maintaining perimeter security.

Mike and Eckhardt found a place to park their mechs and dismount.

Each plopped a duffle bag on the ground and pulled out a standard SLDF infantry armor kit.  Much more protective than their mechwarrior combat cooling suits.

Mike collected a bandolier of grenades for the M-960 infantry rifle, and a spare power pack,  Eckhardt had the 'designated marksman' version, which lost the useless survival kit and grenade launcher for a diverse optics holo-sight and another 15 centimeters of barrel and aperture.

"Where's their infantry?" Mike asked the 'mechs on overwatch.

“Inside likely.”  Vien proffered.

"I've got a weird group in the courtyard, sir."  Nixon corrected.

"Weird?"

"Seven heat sigs and one more dead center, outline looks prone."

"******, it's a hostage rescue…" Eckhardt cursed.

"Courtyard close, or far?" Mike asked.

"Close.  You want me to make a hole in the historic curtain wall an d bust up the masonry?"

"Keep the debris from falling on them until we've got a chance to shoot 'em."

Styles almost skipped up to the stylized to look pre-spaceflight masonry wall, laid her  Mech’s hands on the crenelations, and backed up.  This tore a gap all the way to the ground in it, at least, after her autocannon finished chewing the footings and foundation.

"Like ****** Apollo…" Eckhardt mourned, as the two men entered the now exposed courtyard.

They had someone chained on top of a goddam rock.

Mike and Eckhardt didn't let the gathering finish whatever they were doing, they opened fire.

Whatever they were focused on it until the wall came down and then they had tried to run.

He and Eckhardt went up to a rock.

The person chained to it was a young woman with blond hair and green eyes.

He would guess her age anywhere from 16 to 22.

**2**

Dunrobin Castle
A date lost to time

“Dawnstar of the Goldscales do you swear to take this man as your husband, in sickness or health, in richness or poverty, to honor and obey him until death do you part?”  An elderly man in robes spoke.

“I do.”  A young blond haired woman with green eyes answered as she slid a ring onto a young man’s finger.

“Michael Garrow do you take this woman to be your wife, in sickness or health, in richness or poverty, to protect and cherish her?”

“I do.” A young man with black hair and brown eyes slid a ring on the woman’s finger.

Dawnstar almost felt sick.  Something is terribly wrong.

“I’m sorry.  I swear I will redeem myself to you if it takes me a thousand lives.  More if need be.  But my family….”  The man said as a metal collar was placed on Dawnstar’s neck and bands placed on her wrists.

Sometime later

“Welcome.  This is the most completely secret project quite possibly ever.  Only a handful of people even know of this project, let alone we are actually here.  This is a prison.  Older than any others in the Hegemony.  There’s legends, superstitions, and all sorts of stories about this place among the guards. I have a strict look but don’t touch policy when it comes to our one prisoner. Follow me.”

“All this for one prisoner?”  Connar Garrow asked as he followed.

“Yes.  Our instructions are clear.  Send a pint of blood a week from our prisoner to a place even I don’t know where it is.”

“What’s her name?”

“Honestly I don’t know.  It isn’t in the records.”

Michael was now outside a cell.

Except for the fact that she had blond hair instead of black she looked so much like his sister.

“I’ll leave you be.”

Michael looked at her.  He could feel a connection.

“What’s your name?”  He asked.

“I..don’t know..”

“Well if you don’t remember would you mind if I called you Theresa?  It’s just that you remind me so much of her.”

“That would be fine.”

His soul… It is familiar… Why?

A bit before the battle

“Bring her.  I have the ritual.  She shall be bound to Amaris and with her power victory will be ours.”

She was vaguely aware of her surroundings.  She felt her chains loosen then tug on her.  She was able to stand.

Through the old ancient and hidden passageways that had shielded her and her captors for who knows how long…

Forced onto a rock and bound she was staring at the sky, she had little choice bound to the rock as she was.  She was grateful that at least the sun wasn’t in her eyes.

Outside, under the sky, the slight moistness of the fog strangely helped rejuvenate her.

The warden started chanting.

The sounds of battle started and before they could finish, the men were dead.

It was now that she realized how the ritual was wrong.  Part of her could forgive that-they didn't know the words, because the language had changed so thoroughly over the centuries, they didn't have the right materials, because THAT knowledge was lost…

And the ritual wouldn't have worked anyway.  If they knew her true name, they might have had a chance.

The stone itself, was very uncomfortable.  The thin dress they had put her in did not keep the cold of the stone from the foggy morning from her.  It was hard but at least smooth.

Out of the edges of her vision she saw a man walk up to her.

"Hang on, Miss, I'll get you out of here." he promised.  There was something…familiar in his eyes, she knew him...and recognition lurked behind those eyes, part of him knew her, as well.

She weakly nodded.

He was not gentle about breaking the welds on the chain links to her cuffs with his blade, but he was gentle, about helping her first to sit up, and then, to stand on feet that had not touched level ground in days.

She almost stumbled as she worked her legs, trying to get the stiffness out of them.

Absently, one handedly, her rescuer and his companion mowed down a group of guards on the steps, trying to flee.

His soul…  It is bound to me.  I can sense it.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt safe.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"You can call me Mike." he said, "Jesus, what were they doing to you?"

“Something desperate, they thought they could bind me to Amaris.  It was never going to work.”  Theresa answered.

"Weird sort of rig for that." His companion noted, "Usually they just use lots of drugs and hypnosis. I guess this bunch is Amatuer hour."

“They were also superstitious.  They believed in magic and witchcraft.”  She almost smiled.

Mike grunted and shook his head, "Well, you're safe now." he said, "Let's get you some decent clothes and some food, okay?"

“Thank you.  Something fresh sounds lovely right now.  I’ve been eating nothing but processed food for a very long time.”  She nodded.

Mike looked about, then knelt, picking up something disturbed by the chaos from one of the trees.

"Apple?" He asked, "Might be slightly bruised…"

She took it from him, smiled, and bit into it, tasting the tart sweetness of late autumn. "Mmm..thank you Michael." she said after chewing.

"We've found our HVP, let's clear the site guys." Mike ordered.  The battle machines rumbled into action, and she felt a thrill at seeing her prison treated in such a manner, after so long trapped here.

"You should leave nothing intact." She suggested.

He nodded. "Yeah…they might have a force in hiding." he agreed, "have you ever ridden in the jump-seat of a battlemech before…"

My name… The Guards called me Theresa.

"Theresa." she said, "No, I have not had that pleasure."

"Come with me."

She followed.  Somehow despite what Mike and his warriors had done, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she would be back at this place and like a bad penny it’d be back as well.

But for the moment, seeing it torn stone from stone in fire and thunder?  Well, she wanted that very, very much.

**3**

"Who ordered the operation at Dunrobin?"  Aleksandr Kerensky asked mildly, "Was it you, Jerry?"

Jerome Blake shook his head.

"So why is it that someone used one of the independent 'mech teams I loaned out for Commando operations was deployed, and they leveled the ****** compound?"  Kerensky demanded.  "It wasn't a priority!"

"Sir…"Jerome looked flustered, the Technical Intelligence man glanced uneasily at General Truscott, who stepped forward, "We had information that Amaris was doing something…'special' there, sir.  One of his elite special groups, disrupting it seemed reasonable."

Kerensky frowned, "Special groups?" he asked.

"Yes sir." Truscott asserted, standing erect, "I signed the order because time was of the essence."

"Hmm…where…wait, which team is it?"

"Special Tasks seven, sir, ah, 'the Murderhobos'." Truscott asserted.

Kerensky frowned again, then, "Bring that unit in for debrief, top secret and eyes only, codeword level, I want them secured and sequestered from other soldiers and from themselves until further notice."

"Sir?"

"There were classified projects run at Dunrobin, material that is code-word and eyes-only, and if Amaris had that project on the verge of utility, and it was disrupted, then good, but I want to know how much they might have found out, what they know or found out.  There are secrets we don't let out, and Dunrobin had one of those secrets."

"Yes sir."  Truscott nodded.

Kerensky turned to Blake, "Forget everything you heard in this meeting, Jerry, and forget anything you MIGHT have heard about Dunrobin Castle, understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Get with your signals troops, we need to get the HPG network back up…hell, I need to appoint…okay, Jerry, if you forget this whole matter?"

"Yes sir?"

"I'll name you minister of Communications, and give you a free hand in organizing the agency-no oversight.  It's as close as I can get to giving you a Lordship."

"The matter, sir, is forgotten. What is a 'Dunrobin' anyway? I'm sure I've never heard of it…"

"Exactly."

After dismissing his officers, and swearing them to codeword secrecy, Aleksandr Kerensky looked out the windows of the palace in Unity City.

I should have had them bombard that site from orbit, now I've got to make sure what we were keeping there is really dead.

He poured vodka, And that a team of my best troubleshooters didn't turn it loose on mankind.

**4**

SLDF Military Police found him in Glasgow, less than two kilometers from his grandfather's home, in one of the few small hotels still standing. 

"Let's go over this again." Mike was presently in a military prison complex emptied out near Oslo.  The officer in front of him, clasped his hands together.  "You didn't find anything?"

"We didn't exactly leave anyone alive, no sir." Mike confirmed, "Destroying the site was necessary to finish securing it-you know how it is, sir-they had just enough force to need 'mechs to dig them out, but they were dug into something too soft to survive the experience."

"And the bodies, they were all military?"

"Yes sir." Mike said with a confirming nod.  "There were no civilians being held in there. We looked, but if there was a civilian being held hostage at that castle, they were moved, or they were buried in the rubble too far to find 'em, did the follow-on team see anything like that?"

"No."  a clerk made a note.  "Was there anything you might have seen, Sergeant Major, anything at all?"

"No, it was a heavier force than makes sense for the nothing that was there, maybe they were just trying to hide and escape in the confusion, but I saw no evidence of anything..serious…there."

"What did you see?"

And the questioning went on, sometimes looping in on itself.

Digging for inconsistencies, hints that others 'talked' and 'said things', but…

But the barracks room he was led back to under guard was a cell, and isolated.

Like a prisoner.

And nobody would tell him what he was suspected of, just like he kept feeling his mind 'skip' over something that would trigger them, like a danger sense.  Something he couldn't mention, that would put his life in danger if he did.

Mike waited for tomorrow.

Oh Beloved don't forsake me…

**5**

Theresa had avoided being seen by them when they came for the Team.  Glasgow was long centuries from its ancient roots, and even in the wreckage of the post-battle, it was still a boiling tumour of mankind's best, and worst impulses and identities.  The place's energy was a taste she remembered from when it was scarcely more than a walled village.

The glamour she laid on the team, she was sure, would hold.she'd had time, and she'd marked them each and every one, and only Michael had the strength to resist her power…and he didn't want to.

She was able to find so many that had no defenses, and bodies were plentiful.  Finding a dead body that would resemble her enough with the right glamour wasn't hard, finding mortals to ferry it to the Castle's ruin, and getting it through? These soldiers were not adapted or equipped.

They would find the corpse and assume it was hers.
In the ruin. It would end inquiries by the mortals, and if any of them knew the truth, they would be, she knew, skeptical enough to believe the evidence of their eyes and instruments, rather than the evidence of their hearts and souls.

Or at the least, she hoped so.

She found her mind was still a jumble.  How long had she been there?  What the world was like now compared to the fragments she still recalled.

It was enough to cause a great deal of uncertainty.

For now though her neck and wrist bindings remained.  Michael and his warriors lacked the tools and capabilities to remove them without killing her in the process, especially with the time they had available before the masquerade began.  With them she only had simple glamorous and a few other minor tricks to work with.

But it would be enough.  Enough to get Mike and his warriors out of captivity.  She needed the allies if she was going to survive in this strange new world.

First though was the matter of money.  She’d need some human currency so she didn’t draw too much attention and become over-reliant on her glamors.

***

Unity City
Terra
12 January, 2781…


"It's not her." Aleksandr Kerensky said it almost to himself.  Aaron stood next to him.

 "You're sure?" his Chief  of Staff, and the only senior officer who knew about Project Sidhe glanced sideways.

"I'm sure, I'm very certain." Aleksandr said, "it's loose." he met his Chief of Staff's eyes, "It's loose, and we have no way to put it back in containment."

"Why are you worried?" Aaron asked, "If it wanted it could-"

"The thing is immortal Aaron, and it has good reasons to want revenge for how it was treated while it was kept, and who."

"What do we do?"

"Keep looking? Start quietly doing research to find the way they kept it bottled up, but if that fails…"

"What if it fails?

"We may have to consider…running away-and taking the most dangerous tools we have with us, to keep it from using them.  Start working on a project, call it…Exodus."

"Aye sir."

How do I explain…  "Aaron, it's allergic to silver." 

[size=14]ATTENTION TO ORDERS!![/SIZE]

To: SLDF Engineering units assigned to infrastructure repair and oversight, and all civilian contractors

From: the Commanding General, Star League Defense Force

RE;  Water filtration damage and microbial pollution prevention.

It has come to my attention that in the aftermath of the fighting, many municipal and regional water systems have had various intrusions of fecal matter and undesirable organisms.  To combat the inevitable public health and military readiness issues endemic to this, a substitute standard is in effect, all filtration systems are to include some form of passive anti-microbial plating in the intermediate or final stage of drinking and municipal water distribution.  Contracts are to be let to what remaining manufacturers are currently in business to add silver and silver nitrate or colloidal silver to the outgoing water systems as well as silver plating to replacement water mains (to the interior) to suppress microbial and fungal growth and life, and in order to protect the public from this danger.

Aleksandr Kerensky
Commanding General, SLDF, Regent, Terran Hegemony, Acting Regent, Star League
21 January 2781

To Be Continued!

[Daryk]

You've got two identical threads up? ???

[monbvol]

Technical glitch.

[Daryk]

Rog, no worries!  Glad to see the new project going up already... sorry Google isn't letting me edit (again)...

[monbvol]

No worries.

[monbvol]

Chapter 2: Release

Top Secret, Eyes Only Alpha One Clearance and above only

Project Sidhe

This project predates the Star League, perhaps even the Terran Hegemony.  It is so secret and confidential that even this report on the project for all future Khans, saKhans, and Loremasters does not have full details.

We know that with the sudden death of Simon Cameron that this project had almost been forgotten about.  It was only due to the bureaucracy of the Star League that the budgetary line items led to its rediscovery by Amaris.

What is known is Project Sidhe was located in Northern Scotland and that it was the source of many medical miracles of the Terran Hegemony.  Chief being cancer treatments and the life extension treatments.

There are certain key markers that are to be tested for constantly in all portions of Clan society.

See Section A for these testing methods and what is to be watched for.

Section B contains what further information was brought with us on Exodus for Project Sidhe.

Excerpt from Clan Wolf Watch File Sigma One.

Oslo municipality
Terra
22 January 2781

The humans of this age…  They were easier to manipulate.  She found a ferry captain and was able to use a minor glamour along with a few pieces of modern money to get from Glasgow to Norway, where her new servants currently were being held.

Free of her physical prison and some nice fresh salmon in her stomach instead of processed foods had allowed Theresa to regain a few more fragments of her memories and powers.  The bands around her neck and wrists would always limit what she could do.

But she was able to at least glamour them so that humans would perceive them as decorative.

They don’t have their superstitions anymore.  Even if they were wrong their belief in them gave them some defense.

Theresa set to work in this new city.  She would need to free Mike.  She could also sense the others.  They would be easiest to free first.

She walked to a public information terminal.

A quick chant in an ancient and forgotten language and she was talking with the spirit that inhabited the local information net.

That was not exactly a surprise for Theresa.  What humans would call spirits grew up in most anything, especially something ephemeral like the concept of knowledge.

“Please, spirit, I would like to know where the members of the unit known as Mike’s Murderhobos are being kept.  Their leader is named Michael Garrow.”

The screen listed off some text.  Addresses.

“Thank you.  What can you tell me about the SLDF personnel who are stationed at these locations?”

More text appeared on the screen.

Theresa smiled and then leaned down and kissed the display screen.

“Thank you spirit.”

With the information in hand she set off.

One of the bits of information she was provided with was a drinking establishment frequented by the SLDF personnel.

Theresa studied it from the outside.

“Drat.  These mortals have this need for identity cards and drinking ages.  I’ll have to approach this carefully.”

She felt eyes on her.  A child with a dirty face and ragged clothes, half-hidden by a toppled waste bin.

She kneeled down and smiled.

“I’m sorry.  Am I scaring you?”

"They don't let civilians in there."  Up close, Theresa could see…through.  A Spirit, restless and trapped.  "If you're going in, need to be a soldier."

“Thank you for the warning.”  Theresa looked back at the bar.  “Looks like I need a uniform then.”

"Summer Lady, you don't need a uniform, you need to wait-they come out." the spirit said incautiously, "They always come out."  there was a hunger in those eyes, familiar.

“Thank you again spirit.  I seek release of some servants of mine.”

"Seek a spirit of order.  They follow orders." it hissed.  "Paper spirits of order. Forms and applications, instructions and procedures.  Their NEW god." The last bit was spat in frustration.

The information spirit, this spirit, between them she now had everything she needed.

“Be well spirit.  I know just where to look and who to give the right forms to now.”

**2**

"Wake up Sergeant Major!"

Mike looked up from his reading, and put aside the edition of On War he had been perusing, as his guards stood in the doorway.

"Really?"

"Really, we got orders, you're done debriefing and you've got a report." 

Mike stood, and retrieved his uniform jacket from the back of the cell's chair.  "About bloody time."

They still followed him as he walked to the elevator, stepped inside, and the whole thing was lifted to surface-side of the Brian Fortress near Oslo.  "Longer debrief than usual."

"I imagine so, bet you thought you were going to be a prisoner, hey?"

"Something like that.  It's been weeks."

It was cold outside but there was work to be done.

He could sense it.

"We're near the finish line, can you feel it?"  Mike asked as the corporal unlocked the anteroom exit.

"Finish line?"

"All the shit we had to wade through to beat Amaris, Corporal." He said.  "We're in the end-game now, we can put it back like it should be, can't you feel it?"

The younger man looked nonplussed, uncomprehending.  "Yeah, sure.  The General will take care of it."

It was the first time it really sank in.  This kid doesn't understand what I'm talking about.

It bothered Mike as he made his way out of the Oslo installation's outer layers.  Something was bothering him.  Something ticking and tickling at the back of his memory.

He nodded to the sergeant of the guard manning the entry desk, picked up the C-bag sitting with his name on it.

“Looks like someone’s looking out for you Sergeant Major.  Rumor was your little group was about to be cashiered.  But the transfer orders came through.”  The Sergeant of the Guard said as Mike collected his gear.
"Yeah, well that's going to happen to all of us sooner or later, the war's over, right?" Mike asked, "None of us are getting younger, sooner or later you muster out…just not yet."

“All I know is it has been strange.  I’m still not sure why you were here for so long.”

"Classified debrief." Mike shrugged, "It's how it goes.  I can't really talk about what, you're not cleared and I'm not sure I'm cleared and I was there.  Once we get it stabilized…"

“Good hunting Sergeant Major.  For the war being over the General sure is taking his time standing us down.”

"We've got to get it stable, you'll see-once we've got things stabilized, it'll be back to the old boring grind."  Whatever it was at the edge of his memory was insistent, and evasive, but Mike didn't show a flicker of being bothered.  "Peacetime."

”I hope you’re right because I don’t think the House Lords got that memo.”

"We'll find an Heir and everything will fall in place." Mike chuckled.  Something wrong.  "Chit?" he held his out, and the other NCO scanned it and it registered his pay deposit.

**3**

There are limits.

"Let the girl go."  Carl Nixon said it absolutely reasonably. 

"This isn't your concern, Sergeant!"  the MP clutching a civilian girl one-handed, his other hand idly twirling a billy club, glared.

"Isn't it?  Let's see about that, ohay?  What's she done hayha?"  Nixon was half-drunk, by himself, and in a part of the city that was dirty, unrepaired, and not really somewhere he ought, strictly, to be.

But he saw something about this situation that looked wrong.

"Back off or we'll arrest YOU too!!'

"Your terms are acceptable, come and get me, take me to jail chief, if you're hard enough."  Nixon was still holding his bottle, "gonna take you and your partner there, and you'll have to let the girl go in either case…" he took another swig of the awful vodka, and started walking toward the MP and the civilian that man was holding by the scruff of her neck.

Theresa watched from an upper floor window with interest, as the elements aligned.

The MP's partner rushed Nixon, and was sidestepped, pushed into the wall of the alleyway face-on, with a hollow 'thock!' that left that worthie's helmet spinning on the ground, and the man himself comically spread on his back, staring into the sky.

The one holding the local girl, well..the rigidity in the front of his pants was losing its urgency as Mike's best recon man caught the arm holding the stun-stick billyclub, and twisted it into a joint lock.

"That's a two." Nixon said, "algometry scale? That's a two.  Let the girl go." his voice never rose above a reasonable conversational tone.  "Let's say we three go to the station, heyo boyo? If it's legit? Well…but this isn't, is it?  Let the girl go, open your hand, so you can make a fist and maybe fight your way out."  Nixon's cadence was inevitable, urging, urgent even.  "Come on, big man."

The MP released the civilian, "You're going to rot for a whore!"

"Depends which of us walks in, doesn't it?" Nixon twisted, and caught the billyclub as the man's fingers released it.

He proceeded to methodically beat the man with his own weapon, while the stunned partner tried to get up.

"Nuh-uh."  Eckhardt was there, "Sergeant, why are you beating the MP's up?"

"Underage girl, dildo boy here wanted to use her for his pleasure."  Nixon said without diverting his focus from beating the man in front of him.

"You know, you could kill someone doing that, why not let up?"

"I don't like perverts, especially in my uniform."  Nixon didn't look up, as he kept slamming the man's weapon into his now unconscious body.

"Yeah…no.  Stop, Sergeant."  Eckardt said, "before you kill the guy."

"Right."

"Come on, remember to wipe your prints and let's go.  The Boss wants us.  Meeting by the Shuttle dock."

Nixon wiped the stick, and dropped it on the bleeding form of the MP.

"You see anything, cully?"  Eckhardt asked the other one.  "Of course you didn't, if you did, I'd have to cut both your throats.  Do you understand me? You saw nothing..." she held up an id card, "Corporal Frenkins.  Nothing.  Savvy me boyo?"  her gloved fingers flicked the blearily helmet-less man's card onto his chest.

"I..sa-savvy…"

"Good boy.  Come on, Sergeant, sand's running."

They left the alleyway between apartment blocks, onto the mostly cleared street.  "I expected this kind of shit from Styles, Nixon." Eckhardt commented.

"Yeah." Nixon nodded.

"I did not expect to have to stop you from playing Carol of the Drums on an MP with his own billyclub, you're supposed to be our voice of reason…what tipped it?"

"They grabbed the girl on the street here, and took her into the alley.  That's not…not the way it works." Nixon said, "Not like anyone else would do anything, right?" he added bitterly.

"That's Mike talking through your mouth, Nix." Eckhardt shook her head.

"So maybe it is." Nixon shrugged.

Theresa grabbed her coat.  The pieces were nearly in place.

It was a fur lined coat, a size or two too big for her really but that was the result of having to buy from a ‘thrift shop’ on the limited funds she’d been able to gather for herself.  But it would keep her warm.

As she came down the stairs she handed her room key in.  She was wearing or carrying everything she had bought.

The manager was actually nice.  So she waved and gave him a smile as she left.

She had to almost run to catch up with Carl Nixon and Morgan Eckhardt.  But not so much so that she would draw notice.

**4**

The breakwater lapped with an off-beat as Lara Striene and Dierdre Styles walked the boardwalk overlooking Oslo's waterfront to the shuttle port.

In their way, they were something of an unlikely pair.  "You figure Vien got here ahead of us?"

"Inevitably."  Styles answered flatly.  "You insisted on taking a public transport."

"We're not in uniform, there's got to be a reason."  Lara noted.  "We could not, therefore, draw a vehicle from the motorpool, and the 'mech hangars are locked down-"

"I understand that, but it would be faster."   Styles said, "More efficient, even."

"Unless?" Lara prompted, as she detoured around some traffic cones where the safety rail had been destroyed.

"Unless we're going somewhere we're not supposed to, I assume.  Are we?"

"Not supposed to? Maybe, or maybe not expected to is a better term-watch your step, they certainly damaged the support here."

“Even for me this is getting a bit strange.”

“I’m sure Mike will explain everything when we get there.  For now?  We do as we’re told and try not to attract too much attention.”

“I guess I was just expecting, I don’t know.  Something else.  I know this is something unprecedented but just look around.”

“People are in shock.  I honestly expected worse.  You said it yourself, nothing like this has happened to Terra, at least not in living memory.  And no one is picking up the pieces.  Not really anyway.  Maybe that will change in time.”

“Those two.  Three hundred meters.”  Styles prompted.

“Case in point.  We’re about to be shaken down, either for our money or for something else.”

“Tiresome.”

“Yes.  But for now we don’t need the attention that killing someone would bring.  Even in these circumstances.”

“Understood.”

As predicted the two street thugs started walking toward them as the distance closed.

“Ladies.  You’re in a rather rough part of town after everything that’s happened.  We’d be glad to escort you so that nothing bad happens.  For a small fee of course.”

Lara started loosening her jacket, using herself as a distraction.

Styles waited for just a heartbeat before she pulled a silenced pistol and blew out their knee caps.

“Styles…”

"Oops." she said, glancing at Lara, "that was supposed to be a warning shot, sorry."

“Well at least they’ll live.  Come on, we better get moving.”

"I can fix that, the living thing I mean."

"Dial it down, Styles."

“They saw our faces. It won't be a moment's trouble."

“Fine.  In for a penny in for a pound.”

Paff-paff!

The two thugs were now cooling meat instead of groaning.  Styles put the pistol away, "There, see?  All quieter now."

“And a mess to clean up now.”

"Not really, we're right next to the water."

“True.  Get their belts.”  Lara said as she found some loose but sizable debris.

Under their bulk clothing, the bodies were light, underfed, the lean of missed meals and the smell of unbathed, desperate flesh.

Lara used their belts to secure debris to them as best she could then dumped them in the water.

“In you go…"  Styles helped, topping the corpse past the traffic-cones through the broken segment of safety-rail into the harbor, then the other one. 

She then checked wallets.  "Huh, five or six.." she said, "Too bad we didn't get a chance to find out which identicard went with each of them…hm."

“Any of them look passable for the others?”

"Not really.  Look, Amaris scrip." she held up some money from one of the wallets, "I imagine someone's been doing this for a while, to be holding onto Amaris Empire cash…it's defunct you know."

“Yeah.  I have no interest in it.”

"Jackpot. Baby pictures."  she unfolded a string of pocket-holos.  "I wonder if one of those lads belongs to these kids?  Be funny if he did. 'Sorry baby, your daddy got himself killed in his robbing job'..."

“Hmmm.  Well we should get moving.  We’re running behind now.”

"Right." Styles tossed the wallets in a trash bin as they passed.  "The money's all worthless anyway, and no, nobody from ours looks like anyone on those identicards."

“Shame.  In our line of work having spare identicards is useful.  Oh well.  Maybe another opportunity will present itself.”  Lara shrugged.

"Our 'line of work' is piloting battlemechs and killing things for the Star League.  I don't even need MY identicard for that." Styles argued, "I only need it for PX visits and the occasional inspection, same as you."

“We’re also disposable assets as far as the Star League is concerned.  When was the last time you had to stand an inspection, Styles?"

"Not since the 138th was nearly destroyed on Lone Star."  Styles agreed,  "I guess we don't need them anymore anyway, war's won."

"Six years near enough?" Lara prompted.

"Has it been that long?  I hardly noticed.  I wonder where our next transfer orders are going then, since-..."

“Without a confirmed Cameron heir?  We’ll be lucky just to be drummed out of the service.  Our sort are not going to sit well with Kerensky.”

"What do you mean? He ordered us to kill families, it’s not like he's got issues with OUR kind of work, I'll point to the last six years as an example." Styles argued.

“A means to an end.  We’re at the end.  He’ll want to sweep us under the rug now that his campaign is done.  Or worse.”

“Maybe.  I don’t know.  There’s still going to be lots of problems that need solving that we’re suited towards.”
"He sent the one-seventy-first home." Lara countered, "Disarmed them even."

"They wanted to go home.  It's not the same." Styles still wasn't 'getting it'.

“Maybe.  That is the best case scenario for us.  He decides to use us until battle claims us or there are no more problems.”

"See, we'll be busy forever.  There are always problems." Styles said breezily, "like, we're going to have to deal with the problems when he finally claims the Director-General's seat for real and puts the STar League back in order."

“Realistically though Kerensky is trying to build a legend as a man of principle.  We’ll be an ugly reminder in that sort of scenario that he isn’t.”

"What do you mean by that?  It's a simple principle, isn't it? Cross the Star League, get your ass kicked between your ears."

“He held back on nukes when they would have been useful, orbital bombardment was heavily restricted, and civilian targets were avoided by the regulars.”

"That just let us kill the bad people, without having to clean up the bodies of the good people." Styles argued, "Nukes have leftovers, not much to claim in an irradiated wasteland, after all."

“Would have saved a lot of lives if we used canned sunshine to crack those Brian Castles.”

"And then what?"  Styles asked.  "Fallout, that's what, now isn't it? So you crack a fortress, but now you've irradiated the whole continent."

“So use relatively clean laser initiated fusion devices.  Would have cracked open those reinforced doors nicely without leaving much in the way of radiation.”

"Besides, didn't Kerensky allow them to do something like that at Eagle's Nest? And didn't it wreck the atmosphere processors?"

“Scuttlebut I heard was that was an unauthorized use of nukes.”

Footsteps, "Not nukes." Vien said, stepping out of a shadowed doorway to absolutely nobody's shock or surprise.  "They dropped kinetic-kill devices.  Rocks."

"Oh, right…you were there…"

"No, not really.  I was still on my way from Sian, but I dated one of the officers off the SLS Tabitha Cameron, and he was.  He said the ralliers from Kowloon dropped asteroids to crack the defense and end the siege."

“See?  Kerensky has an image in mind for post war.  One we won’t fit in.  The Kwolonese were sent home disarmed after everything because they were too loud.  We’re quiet so we’ll be dealt with quietly.  No muss, no fuss.  Just some SLIC operative while we sleep if we’re lucky.”

"Wow, I thought I was paranoid." Vien chuckled, "So…where do you suppose we're being sent next? New York maybe? Mars? To get that ideal you're so worried about, we're still very useful…and besides, Styles and you are far too pretty for them to kill off, never mind me."

“Dream on Vien.  Dream on.”  Styles shook her head.

"You'd have better luck bagging Eckhardt you filthy perv." Lara laughed.

"No, they…she, turned me down already. I guess I have to settle for lesser beings than any one of us!"

“You’ll eventually find someone worthy.  Me?  I’m far too fabulous to be bogged down in a relationship.”  Styles said flatly.

"No relationship? You're best friends with Lara, you hang out with me, you ask Nixon for moral advice, Eckhardt for quiet nights watching holos…you're in a relationship!" Vien said, "What you don't want, is certain kinds off fun, which, believe me, can be very casual."

“Oh that sort?  Yeah.  I guess.  If I need that itch scratched bad enough there’s always the base or port bars and that’ll be enough.”

Vien's smile widened, "There, see? You're my ideal wingman! We'll troll the port bars and just have fun..after we do whatever it is our next orders say we're needed to do…and you're more decorative than Nixon."

“It’d help if Nixon wasn’t more committed to his mech than getting laid.”  Lara nodded.

"Yes, he is kind of a moralising drag…" Vien agreed, "Get a few in him and there is always a fight…always."

“Are we there yet?”  Styles asked.

"Mummy and daddy are talking, Debbie." Vien teased, "We're almost there.  See?" he pointed at a ruined entry gate with half the guard shack standing, next to a torn down bit of security fence.  "Looks like home, doesn't it? Right down to the craters.  Missing bodies though, and someone let the fires burn out."

“At least it’s snowed or rained since the battle.”  Lara nodded.

"Just ruins the ambience, it's almost like peace out here now." Vien's joking tone, "Where's the incoming fire? The unexploded ordnance??  Not proper to have it all…so…quiet."

“Just means there’s a lull before the next round.”  Lara picked up her pace.  “Come on.  Mike’s waiting for us.”

Vien helped Styles step over the ruined concertina mesh fencing, then assisted Lara.

"You're such a child Vien." Lara observed, "I didn't NEED the help!"

"Yes, but it was a pleasure giving it to you anyway."

“Whatever.”  Lara shook her head.

**5**

The wrongness was worse.  Mike had been 'out of holding' for weeks. His 'transfer orders' were to wait for new orders.  He'd seen them put whole Brian Fortresses together in a matter of weeks during the war. 

The Engineers barely cleared the main avenues between bases, and space ports.  A few were clearing routes to industrial sites, but they weren't rebuilding…other things.

When he went to collect his pay again there was an insufficient funds error and he was cut a promissory note.

Shopping areas were still damaged, residential areas were still in ruins.

It felt…wrong.  The curfews were kind of expected, the planet had, after all, been under hostile occupation for years…

But something tickled his awareness, and he'd been trying to make it make sense.

Children shouldn't be begging in the streets-they're supposed to be in school.  They're not rebuilding. Nagged at him.  MP's were still patrolling streets, the civil infrastructure wasn't being put back together. 

It had been long enough, someone should have at least started repairing the buildings people were trying to live in…but he could look to his left and right, and see civilians struggling in apartment blocks that were still holed and broken from gunfire months ago.

A Turhan personnel carrier passed him, turning up an avenue, and troops in combat gear were coming out the side doors, mauser 960s, not riot guns, and they were…

He watched Star League infantrymen, and it was New Vandenberg all over again.  No warnings, no less-lethals, they were using bayonets and weapons fire to break up groups of civilians.

This is wrong.  His tactical mind calculated and decided to remind him that a sidearm in civilian clothes would be worthless for opposing SLDF troops in body armor with full kit and an APC supporting them.

We were supposed to be doing this to stand for justice.

"Hey, soldier." He turned, the girl was beautiful…and he remembered the Castle.  "Mind walking a lady home? It's dangerous on the street tonight."

"I think…yeah, I'll walk you home."

She smiled.  It wasn’t a normal smile.  But he still felt like he was seeing something familiar.

Home turned out to be an apartment in one of the few still functioning hotels.  SLDF personnel were posted to keep order, keep out the homeless.

“A temporary necessity.  I’m in the process of securing a warehouse by the waterfront.  Some place close to a ‘drop port’.  That shall be where we reunite with your comrades.”

“You orchestrated my release didn’t you?”  Mike seemed to suddenly realize as the door guards paid no attention to them as they walked into the building.

“Yes.  And with a little help I’ll be able to do the same for your comrades.”

“What do you need?”

Once in her room, from her case she pulled out stacks of forms.

“Help me fill these out.  The more I do it the more likely someone will notice and that will break my glamour.”

Mike nodded.

Someone needs to do something about this… And she’s offering.  Even if it is for her own ends.

The fragments of memories in his soul were revealing much about his relationship with Theresa.  Enough he realized she didn’t fully consciously remember everything herself.

That’s okay.  We’ll remember together.  Like we’re meant to.

**6**

The area was largely deserted.  The only people there?  A couple drunks sleeping off their misery and the Murderhobos.

"Who's the hottie boss?" Nixon asked, nodding in Theresa's direction, "She's vaguely familiar but…"

“The name I remember is Theresa.  You all rescued me from Dunrobin Castle.  For that I am grateful.”  Theresa let her glamour subside.

The red-haired man frowned, then the scales fell from his mental eyes and he remembered.

“The interrogations… Why we were detained for so long.  It was because of you.”  Lara’s tone was matter of fact, not accusatory.

"Obviously she's…" Nixon studied Theresa's face, "...not the Cameron? But you look like one, like the pictures of Jocasta, and Elizabeth…right around the eyes…"

“Really?  Huh.  My memory is still a bit jumbled from my ordeal.”

"She's not a Cameron." Styles said, "Too tall, and Camerons favor brown hair, not white blonde."

“But there is a resemblance…  I can’t shake that.”  Nixon shook his head.

“Maybe some generations ago.  Features can be like that.”  Lara offered.

"It's her posture."  Eckhardt said.  "Regal, right down to her toes.  She doesn't look anything like a Cameron except in how she's got that royal posture, the 'air', even when she's looking confused.  Like a House Lord, but not like any House Lord we know of.  So, boss, is this the Cameron Heir the General's been looking for? A distant cousin or something?  Someone Viable?"

“No.  If that’s what he was really looking for there is a line out in the Free World’s League that would qualify and I’m pretty sure there’s a McKenna that’d work too if that’s all it took.  She’s something else.”  Mike answered.

Mike looked at Theresa.

“I suppose I need to tell them.  So that they can decide.  Very well.  What I’m about to tell you is going to sound fantastical and impossible.  So if you wish now would be a good time to leave.”  Theresa nodded then looked at each of the Murderhobos.

“Hold on.  Let’s get rid of the drunks first.”  Lara said as she started walking.

After a few minutes of arguing with a drunk, which Lara regretted, and her handing over most of the hard currency she had on hand, the drunks were cleared away.

To Be Continued

[Daryk]

This definitely explains a LOT about where the Murderhobos came from... ;)

[Euphonium]

It makes more sense of their fee structure too...

[mikecj]

TAG'd.  When's the Wild Hunt show up?

[Daryk]

Probably after those cuffs and collar are gone... ;)

[Euphonium]

TAG'd.  When's the Wild Hunt show up?

You could argue that she (or is shidhe the appropriate pronoun here?) is recruiting them to be her Wild Hunt

[monbvol]

[size=12 pt]Chapter Three:In the name of Exodus[/size]

Kerensky had been searching.  Officially the story was for a Cameron heir.  But the truth?  To have a chance he needed a particular family line.  One he hadn’t found.

“We’ve spent as much time as we dare Aaron.  We need to start running, with or without the one family line listed in Project Sidhe as our salvation.”  Kerensky sighed.

“I’ve been making the preparations.  The unit commanders are being assembled now.”

"Do the men believe the cover?" Kerensky asked.

"Enough of them.  It helps that the House Lords have decided to be so ****** stupidly stubborn about this."  DeChevalier noted, "it would be a lot harder if any of them had an attack of reason."

“Yes.  And they’re already poaching units.  That too will help sell the need to leave.”

"A few details in preparation." DeChevalier suggested, "one of Richard's side projects in the Periphery, on a place called LV 5775.  I've taken the initiative in having that project's contingency code activated, which should keep that research from being found or used by the House Lords if they find out about it."

“Good.  It’s a long shot but it just might give us the edge we need.  We’ve had to share an awful lot with the Houses to keep the army supplied and fit to fight for this campaign.  Anything more we can keep from them before we leave the better.”

“How many do you think will go with you?”

“Not enough.  But more than can be reasonably expected.  Especially with what we’ve just gone through.”

“We could still execute Operation SCATTERING.  I know it’s more extreme…”

“Exodus will be sufficient.  Besides people will decide to break off on their own anyway.  All we can do is balance the loads of critical materials as best we can so that no one ship leaving dooms either side.  And lots of slack for that.  Because really we’ll lose dozens of ships to that or to breakdowns.”

“Ready to begin our return to Terra at your order.”

“Do it.  We’ll just have to pray we can run far enough and advance enough that we can survive what is coming.”

**2**

"Major Garrow, I've got the reports you asked for."  the IG man handed Mike a thick file, "Not sure why you're interested…"

"It's above your pay grade, Lieutenant." Mike said smoothly, "Don't worry about it.  Continue with your duties."

"Yes sir."

Mike nodded subtly to his 'aide', an administrative warrant officer in harsh office-dress uniform.  She smiled at the Lieutenant from the IG section, and blew a kiss before joining her officer as they left the room.

The man would remember nothing about this, or about the information his security clearance had been used for, aside from a fairly normal investigative audit.

Theresa made sure of it, just as she made sure the surveillance showed nothing out of place.  There would be no security alerts.

Taking such efforts were proving to be a drain though.  She knew she was still limited.  But her memories were still hiding much from herself.  Still she was certain she had made good their departure without notice.

“You okay?”  Mike asked.

“Yes.  Just need to take some time to recover before we do something like this again.  I’ll be fine.”

Mike opened the door on the staff car, and helped her sit down before going to the other side, and joining her in the back.

Eckhardt started the engine.

"Well boss?"  The mechwarrior prompted as she pulled out into the morning traffic.

"We're out of the system." Mike said, "and I know what Kerensky's plan is."

"What is it?"

"He's going to desert, with most of the senior commanders.  Apparently running off to nowhere to start playing at 'foundation' is easier on his mind, than reconstruction of civil government and order in the Hegemony."

“He can wait.  We have plenty of time.  Before then we have plenty of other people to tend to.”  Theresa said calmly.

The car rolled through the intersection onto the lake washington bridge, eastbound.

“So where do we start?”  Lara asked.

“That’s the best part.  Once Kerensky leaves, it is going to be open warfare.  So really our priority will be keeping ourselves safe.”  Mike could sense it as clearly as the feeling of the faint rays of sunshine coming through the clouds and window of the groundcar.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll still be doing plenty of killing.  It won’t be too boring.”

Lara smiled.  She knew Mike well enough to know if anything he was downplaying how much killing he was expecting to have to do.

“We’ll need our mechs then.”  Lara pointed out.

“True.  Time to plan a heist then when we get back.”  Mike agreed.

"Most of the really good thieves use pen and paper to steal…or in some cases, digital records keeping, and I can't help but notice that file's got SLDF Logistics Command codes.  You transferred our stuff, and that is where you sent it, isn't it?"

“So it does.  Yes.  But to claim it we’ll still need to keep up certain appearances.”  Mike admitted.

"Why do I get the feeling our next step is the kind of thing that makes Styles all girly and Vien go through singles bars?"  Eckhardt complained, "Who are we killing to get our stuff back?"

“To be fair it’s less killing to get our stuff back and more Kerensky’s up to something and that something is putting extra scrutiny on Dropships and Jumpships, enough so that paperwork is only going to be enough to get us onboard.  We’re eventually going to need to leave Terra.”

“What about Johnny?  He’s been tied up in medical for a while now.”  Lara asked.

“Yeah.  That’s our next stop.  General order of business until something inevitably goes wrong and we have to change the plan.  First we help Johnny, get him out of medical.  Second we get our mechs.  Third we get off Terra.  Fourth we disappear for a bit.”

**3**

“Jonathan Wangker.”  A man in SLDF Captain’s uniform entered Johnny Wangker’s hospital room.

“Who’s asking?”  Johnny was in a mood.

“I’m Captain Yusef Mostert.  I’m from the medical review board.”

“I’m being cashiered.”  Johnny almost spat.

“Yes.  With the state of the Hegemony, we’ll try and do everything we can to make sure you recover from your injuries…”

“Save it.  We both know that my injury would have been trivial to fix before the crises but now…  Unless one of the member states decides to suddenly become uncharacteristically generous, I’ll be lucky to even be wheelchair bound for the rest of my life.”

“Sergeant…”

“Save your promises.  They’re empty now.  My unit is turning traitor.  Signing on with the Combine.  The Combine!”

The Captain just nodded then tossed an envelope on Johnny’s lap then left.

His next visitor was a special kind of torture.  A young, blond nurse, maybe doing her internship, came in.

“Time for me to be transferred to another facility already?”  Johnny nodded at the wheel chair she was pushing.

“After a fashion.  Remember Michael Garrow?”  The young woman asked.

“Yeah.  We worked together on a nasty piece of work on Caph.  He said if I ever needed a new billet I’d always have one with him.  Something about me saving his life.”

“Well he remembers.  And from what I overheard sounds like you could use it.”

“Well I can’t walk.  Completely paralyzed from about the waste down or so.”

“I can help with that.  Tell me, what is it you desire?”

“My regiment is turning traitor.  I can’t stop that.  So what I desire most is the Regimental Honors.  It’s the stuff we used for presentations, medal award ceremonies, and yes even when hosting a fine dining event.”

“Then so it shall be.  Until such time you recover the items you seek you shall be in my service and do my bidding.”  The young blond said as she reached out her left hand and slid it under his back.

Johnny felt…something.

“What did you just do?”  Johnny asked.

“You’ll find out as soon as we get you out of here.  For now please refrain from speaking.”  The young woman literally picked him up and helped him into the wheelchair.

Johnny was still confused but he was silent.

She pushed him right up to the discharge station, pulled a clipboard off the back of the wheelchair.

“Medical transfer to John Hopkins.”  The nurse said to the other nurse.

“Transport?”

“Arranged.  Second page.”

“Everything seems to be in order.”

Johnny was still sitting in stunned silence.  He wanted to talk, to ask what the hell was going on but found he couldn’t.

Without anyone from the hospital objecting he was pushed right out the front door and into the back of a waiting van.

“Apologies.  Now you may speak freely.”  The nurse said after strapping him in.

“What the hell are you?”  Johnny asked.

“A good question.  But the only answer you’re going to get is ‘special’ or your ‘mistress’.”  The person in the passenger seat up front answered.

“Mike?”  Johnny recognized the voice.

“Yup.  I made you a promise.  So no way in hell was I going to leave you hanging in that hospital.  Or let them kick you to the curb like that.

“That still doesn’t explain a damned thing.”

“This will help.”  The nurse said as she pinched his thigh.  “Wake from your slumber.  See the world for what it really is.”

Johnny’s eyes went wide.  He felt the pinch.  Just a few minutes ago he couldn’t feel anything from his legs.

Then he saw her.

“You’re not human.”  Johnny said.

“No.  No I’m not.”

“I can feel my legs.”

“A bit more power and time and you’ll be able to walk again.”

“So now I’m what, your slave?”

“Not at all.  Sure there is a price for breaking contracts but you are free to do so if you wish.  Mike informed me of his promise to you, what was happening with your comrades, and here we are.  I help you get what you desire, in exchange I get your service towards what I desire.”

“And what is that?”

“Revenge.  I was imprisoned for a very long time and my essence was drawn from me without my consent while I was also unable to defend myself.  There are many humans I would see pay for this.”  Theresa answered almost cheerfully.

“And some of the people we want to see buried are the same people.”  Johnny understood.

“I imagine so.”  Theresa nodded.

“You know what’s coming next though don’t you?”  Johnny asked.

“Humanity is about to punish itself.  It’ll make our revenge much easier.”  Theresa’s voice was almost like a song now.

“Now about that contract business.  Obviously this isn’t quite the type of contract I’m familiar with.”

“The ancient oaths.  With them many things are possible.”

“Like making me able to walk again.”

“A large part of why that is possible for me to do at this time is human technology has advanced."  she reached into her blouse and produced a flask.  "However, sometimes the old ways are comforting." she took a sip, then offered it to him.  "Go ahead."

He looked at her skeptically, but accepted the flask, and took a sip.  It was almost sickly sweet, with an alcoholic under-bite.  "What is this?"

"Meade." she told him, "A drink for champions, you're one of mine now."

“I’ve had worse.”  Johnny finished the flask.

**4**

Kerensky was back on Terra, his searches fruitless.

Strange this clock I’m up against.  I need to be in a hurry but at the same time I need to prepare my troops to leave the Hegemony for at least seven generations.  We’ll have time yet to do this right with the measures I’ve ordered.

“Another war is coming.  The troops are exhausted.  So I’m going to refuse allowing them to be pawns.  I need your help.  Not just Aaron’s.  Which is why I’m coming to you.”

“What can I do?”  Jerome Blake asked.

“I’ll need you to stay behind.  Keep the HPGs working.  So that when my troops return after the war we’ll have an information net.  Make yourself indispensable and irreplaceable with the House Lords.  I don’t care how you do it.  I just need the nets to be up and running for when we return so we don’t come in blind.”  Kerensky said.  “And try to keep Terra out of the hands of the House Lords.  I know some of my troops will stay behind to help with that.”

“How long before you leave?”

“At most four years yet.  It’ll take me that long to get all the supplies, ships, and people in order.  Especially with the secrecy that I’ll need to keep.”

“You really think it’ll be that bad?”

“Worse.  The House Lords can’t even agree that there are cadet branches of Camerons we could tap to resurrect the Star League and Hegemony.  They want the big chair for themselves now and I can’t build the Hegemony up and fight a five sided war at the same time.  It pains me but I have to do this to spare Terra and my troops.  If I stay and fight Terra becomes even more of a target.”

“Alright General.  I’ll do this for you and help keep your secret.”

“Thank you Jerome.”

“It’s what the council has essentially asked me to do anyway.”

Kerensky stood then bowed.

Once he was safely away Conrad Toyama stepped in from an adjoining room.

“That went better than I expected.  I thought we’d have to work a bit harder to clear Kerensky from the board for our own aims.”  Conrad said quietly.

“So did I.  He’s not wrong that if too much of the SLDF is on the board Terra could become a most uncomfortable target to take and the Age of War shows what happens to such targets.  He didn’t even bat an eye.  Something else has him worried.  See what you can find out, Conrad.  In the meantime the Ministry of Communications has a task and I intend to carry it out.”

“I’ll see what we can find out.”  Conrad nodded then left the way he came.

**5**

There was a slight burning sensation as soon as the water touched her lips.  Theresa realized what it was and spat out the little bit of water she already had in her mouth.

“No one drink the municipal water.”  Theresa was having trouble speaking.  Such was the power of silver.

That memory was not lost to her.  It was only a trace of traces.  But someone knew.  They were purifying water with silver.

By itself that would not kill her but it would be enough to keep her weak and in agony if she did not recognize the effect.  It was part of how they kept her in prison as long as they had.

“So how much longer are we going to lay low?  We have our mechs.  I’m getting bored already.”  Styles complained.

"Mmmh." Nixon looked up from the magazine he was reading.  "We're between missions, Styles, maybe see what the new guy's up to?"

“Fine.  I’ll see if he’s up for some fun.”  Styles stood up and walked over to Johnny.

“Jeez.”  Johnny Wangker startled as he realized someone was standing over him.

“I’m bored.  You know things are dull when I’m bored.  And as the new guy you’re my diversion.”  Styles announced.

“Well I’m not sure what you expect from me.”  Johnny countered.  “Mike’s the C-Oh.  He’s got the forms and access codes.”

“I guess we’re trying to figure out where you fit in.  What you bring to the crew.”  Styles continued.

“Johnny’s got shall we say unconventional contacts.  So when it comes time for us to go off the grid he’s going to be the one keeping us in bullets, beer, and beans.”  Mike came into the common room.  “But if you’re looking for something to do, well I got a lead on some Quislings that sided with Amaris.”

“I’ll take it.  Better than sitting around here bored out of my mind.”  Styles said.

“Here.  Study it.  Johnny, we’ll need something to collect rainwater for ourselves and Theresa.  And our own distillery.  No silver components.”

“Sure.  Borrow Cham for back up?  These are the sorts of people you don’t meet with alone if you want to come back with the merchandise.  Especially with what’s going on these days.”

“Yeah that will be fine.  And someone go with Styles.  We don’t need random explosions drawing attention to us right now.”  Mike looked around for a volunteer before his eyes landed on Eckhardt.

“Sure.  I’ll do it.  Those bastards are why I don’t have a family to go back to.  Or close enough anyway.”  Eckhardt nodded.

**6**

The building was formerly a hotel before the crisis.  Sometime since then it became more of a gilded cage.

“I know why I’m doing this Styles.  But I don’t get why you are.  What’s your axe to grind in all of this?”  Eckhardt asked as she looked through the binoculars.

“Because I’m self aware enough to know I’m a sociopath.  Lara’s right about the fact that I’ll never fit in with normal civilians.  Not anymore anyway.  So I have zero issue with helping you and Theresa get your revenge.”

“So as long as we point at something and say ‘kill’ you will?”

“Yup.”

“Even if they wear a SLDF uniform?”

“Sure.  You know how many people I killed that were wearing Star League uniforms?  People who turned traitors and fought against us?  Now they’re protecting people who hurt you.  People who should die for what they did.  And well, finding out how many lies and crimes the Terran Hegemony and thus the Star League were built on?  People need to die for that too.”

“Well if there’s anybody from Elbar in there they’re not coming to the windows.”

“We could always ask one of the nice guards.”  Styles observed.

“Yes, yes we could.”  Echardt was slightly frustrated that the datapacket Mike was able to dig up didn’t have names.

Just that this was a holding facility for nobles that sided with Amaris.  For their protection.  Lynch mobs were still very much a thing for people who collaborated.  So the prison was almost a fortress too.

“So what do you think Eckhardt?  We doing this or what?”  Styles studied through her scope.

“There.  South wall.  That one’s about to go off shift.  Let’s keep an eye on him and setup a honeypot.”

“Kinky.”

“Two for one.  I get my fun then you get your fun.”  Eckhardt countered.

“True.”

A bit later

The guard was walking on his way home.  He was glad he lived in the city, meant unlike the others he didn’t have to live in the barracks.

He spotted an attractive dark skinned woman on the street corner.  It was pretty clear what she was trying to do.  He understood.  Saving Terra from Amaris was great and all but a lot of people across Terra were still out of work.  So that she was trying to prostitute herself?  No surprise at all.

So he walked up to her.

“You’re new.  Have you tried going to the aid center?  They could help you.  Hate to see a pretty young woman such as yourself do something so degrading as selling yourself.”

“Yes but I need the money now.  Not months from now.  That’s if I get it at all.  My sister is in New York and in the hospital.  She could die before I get the money or a pass.”  The woman said.

“Uh huh.”  The guard nodded.

“He’s not buying it, Eckhardt.”  Another woman walked out of the alleyway.

“Yeah and now I’m feeling slightly conflicted.  He actually is kind of nice.  Tut tut.  No sudden moves.  You’re going to follow me into the alley like we made the deal.”  Eckhardt nodded.

Eckhardt stepped over to the guard and slipped her arm over his shoulders as she led him into the alleyway.

Once away from the street she fished his sidearm and communit out of their proper places and onto the alleyway ferrocrete.

“Now you’re going to tell me some stories.  And trust me you’ll tell them.  The only question is what I’ll have to do to you to get you to tell them to me.”

A short while later

Eckhardt had her stories.

One of them was indeed a name she recognized.

Elbar’s former Chief of Medicine for the Duke.  It was they who were ultimately responsible for Elbar’s organ harvesting scheme.

“Mike…  I’ll need one of those transfer order forms of yours.  They’re protecting him.”

"From more than just one source.  I think he might've been…" Carl stopped, then, "...they sent the one-seven-one home right before the liberation op for Terra itself. I think the closest the 'loonies got was retaking Titan, then it was 'thanks for the hand now go home'."

"What're you suggesting?"  Johnny asked.

"Someone in Command knew he was here, knew they wanted his ass, after what Ngo did at Running Deer to the officers running it, someone decided to send the vengeful Kowloonese and most of the people they recruited on Elbar back to Kowloon without their guns.  What do you think that suggests?"  Carl continued.

“He has something else.  Something valuable.  Enough that they want to keep him alive.  Well I don’t care what it is.  He dies.”  Eckhardt answered.

Mike looked thoughtful, then, "It doesn't matter what he has." he looked up, "are we agreed? It doesn't matter if the guy learned the secret of eternal life, he dies."

"Why?" Streine asked.

"Because it's owed." Mike said.  "Are we agreed? Price was paid, service has yet to be rendered."

Lara looked over at Morgan Eckhardt.  “Yeah.  That was a special kind of ****** up.  I’m in.”

Johnny made finger guns. "Bang, he dies."

Styles licked her lips.  “Mmmm.  This is going to be interesting."

Cham shrugged his shoulders.  “Turns out the grass isn’t greener on the other side.  I’m in for some gardening.”

"So, let's work out how we're going to get this son of a bitch."

“Sorry Eckhardt but it’s going to take more than a transfer of custody order for someone that important.”  Lara said as she laid out the map.

Nixon was already in that weird headspace he sometimes got into.  "There's always a hole in the security." he said.  "Let's get eyes on target.  They're keeping him in one of the hotels that they’ve turned into a prison fortress. High sec, but it's not Unity City."

“Which means other collaborators are in there, which we already knew.  It’s a shame we can’t just level the place with our mechs.”  Lara nodded.

Styles giggled, she had a faraway look in her eyes, "but we can level it in other ways."

“Yeah.  We can get close.  We might even be able to get inside.  Since we have this.”  Eckhardt fished out the guard’s ID badge.

"They'll be eyes on the guard…but there's someone nobody looks at."  Nixon said, "I bet the guys guarding won't look either."

“Housekeeping.  Nobody pays attention to housekeeping.”

"Sewer service.  They might clock me or Mike as 'not housekeeping' but we can get coveralls, and that hotel's on the common utility grid." Carl stated, "All we really need is to borrow a municipal truck and coveralls for the ones who can't look like housekeeping or staff."

“Uggh.  Tell me the uniform isn’t completely ugly.  I like killing in style.”  Styles groaned.

"Let's actually look at this." Carl said, and thumbed out a recording into the player.  "While the two of you were bagging the guard, I took some pictures."

Lara wheeled over a mobile posterboard and put up the pictures for Carl.

"Note, not staff and military doesn't issue short-short skirts and micro-purses…someone is getting call girl service in there.  I bet she's not a spouse unless someone's marrying way too young."

"Could still be a dependent."

"Watch the door guards, if someone slapped your last Colonel's daughter on the ass like that, what would be the result?"

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m still supposed to be on KP duty for the last time a commander decided I was getting too friendly with their offspring.”  Cham nodded.

"Funny, I got the stockade for three months for it." Styles commented, "Mind that was before we spent ten years fighting a civil war, but still…"

"Someone's getting hooker service delivered." Mike asserted, "So, there's an option besides staff and utilities, depending on how you feel about-"

“A three prong approach.”  Lara nodded.

"Inside-outside." Carl suggested.  "Outside team uses Utility service as cover, inside team uses staff and 'services' to get past the outer layer, then helps the external team work in."

"Makes sense." Mike nodded.  "We'll have to know the routes out, and we'll want those routes cleared."

“How extreme do we want to get?”  Johnny asked.

"We get the main target for sure." Mike said, "Anything over that is bonus, and we keep it contained.  I'd as soon not have to try to survive a planet-wide manhunt, so it needs to be tight, we're killing a war criminal or two, and getting out, and we try to do it so we're out before they notice we've been in."

“Okay.  I’ll spread a bit of our supplies around to the street kids.  Have them report false incidents, false bomb scares.  They know how to crank call the police.  I just need to know when for maximum effect of keeping response busy.”  Johnny offered.

"Spread cameras around first.  We need to see the routine, time it." Mike was in the groove now,"street info, when does the guard change, how many at a time? What days are they getting deliveries?"

“Told you there were more questions we should have asked the guard before we made sure he couldn’t tell anymore stories.”  Styles said sing-songily.

"We'll have to see how well they notice he's missing."  Carl said, "and who they bring in to cover his post."

“Sure.  We have more pallets of Meals Rejected by Everyone than we can go through before they get old.  Plenty of kids who’ll take those since we’re strapped for usable cash.”  Johnny nodded.  “I’ll get on that part.”

Theresa was sitting on a counter humming, smiling, and kicking her legs.  “Be careful my champions.  I can’t bring you back from death.  But since this is in the pursuit of justice I can offer some small boons.”

**7**

“Styles…  You sure this will work?”

“Trust me.  I know you’re still developing your sense of style for who you are now, and I know I can seem almost emotionless at times but one thing I take seriously is fashion.  The guards won’t even question you.  They’ll be too busy thinking about being jealous of whoever ordered ‘room service’ and getting some for themselves.”  Styles said as she put dresses in front of Eckhardt who was standing in front of a full body length mirror.

“The purple one.”  Eckhardt said.

“See, you’re learning.  Now for the shoes.”  Styles hung the dress from a rack before disappearing into a closet.

“You know you don’t have to play this role in the plan.  I’d be willing to do it.”  Lara said.

“No.  It’s the riskiest role, this is for me.  I have to do it.”  Eckhardt shook her head.

“Here you go.”  Styles came back with a matching pair of heels for the selected dress.  “Now makeup.”

“She’s way into this.”  Lara shook her head.

“I don’t mind.”  Eckhardt smiled.  “I’m actually enjoying exploring this new me.  Somehow it feels right.”

“Grub and recon photos are in ladies and gentlemen!”  Johnny said as he came into the warehouse.

“Kurita rations?”  Cham looked at the MREs skeptically.

“Would you rather have the Number six SLDF rations?”  Johnny countered.

“Kurita number three it is.”  Cham seemed much more positively responsive to the offered MREs.

“The spirit of the local information net has heard no mention of a replacement for the guard.”  Theresa offered her small contribution to the operation.

“They’re clearly at heightened awareness but, look at them.”  Carl put up the pictures and played the videos.

“They’re going through the motions.  They’re either not motivated or they’re doing a really good job of not tipping their hands that they think something is up.”  Lara nodded.

“Guard rotation?”  Mike asked.

“Looks like the vast majority of the guards are staying on site, here in the second tower.”  Carl pointed at the structure.  “Looks to be a standard SLDF shift structure.  Rotating out guards for leave into the city once a month.”

“Two days.  The next guard will be allowed leave in the city in two days.”  Johnny confirmed.

“Can you get the truck we need by then?”  Mike asked.

“Already have it and my friends just need some photos of Eckhardt and they’ll make arrangements so the next order for room service will be Eckhardt.”

“Eat.  Quickly.  We have work to do.”  Styles demanded as she scarfed down Kurita MRE number 3.

[monbvol]

[Co-Author] And because I'm only mostly evil.... [/Co-Author]

**8**

The ground car pulled up to the main gate.  Out stepped a tall, athletic, gorgeous woman with short black hair and pale green eyes in a flat purple dress that left little to the imagination.

Her gait accentuated her features as she strode towards them.

One of the guards was staring at her as she walked past and the staff service truck pulled up.

“You’re new.  They tell you where everything is?”  The other guard said as he was desperately also trying to watch the woman go into the complex.

“They gave me the floor plans.”  Lara said as she stepped up to the entryway.

“Good enough.  704 needs a full cleaning, 1201 is completely off limits.  The rest should already be on your task sheet.”

“Right here.”  Lara patted her uniform pocket.

She entered followed shortly by Nixon.

“Did I detect a note of jealousy?”  Carl said once they were out of easy hearing range of the guards.

“I know this uniform isn’t very flattering but really?  They couldn’t oggle me at least a little?”

“Theresa did excellent work finishing what the surgeons started.”

“I know.  But that’s what makes it more hurtful.”

“Well next time we’ll put you in the skimpy form fitting dress and Eckhardt in the frumpy custodial uniform.”

“Only if the mission calls for it.  I’m a big girl and honestly I’m happy Eckhardt is getting that sort of attention.  After Elbar was tough for her.”

“Yeah.  She needs this.”  Carl nodded.

Eckhardt pressed the elevator call button.

It opened with a guard inside.

“1201?”  He asked.

“Yes.”

It was a surprise when Johnny got the information from his underworld contacts who the prostitutes were for.  They weren’t for the Commandant or any of the guard staff, they were for him.

She was frisked and her bag searched.

Then the button for the penthouse was pressed.

After the elevator reached the top Eckhardt tugged on her right earring.

She walked up to the door, was shown inside and the guard left.

“My you’re quite fetching.  But I can’t help but feel we’ve met before.  Where are you from?”  The older slightly overweight man in a suit said as he was pouring drinks in the room’s minibar.

“We know each other quite well.”  Eckhardt tugged on her left earring.  “Uncle Otto.”

The lights went out.

Eckhardt slid the old fashioned chain lock into place.

“Jennifer is that you?”  Otto Eckhardt’s eyes widened in realization and fear.

“Your own brother and his family.  Don’t worry.  You won’t feel a thing.”

Otto fell to the floor grasping at his chest.

“A heart attack.  Wow.  Talk about karma.  I don’t even have to kill you.  I just get to sit here and watch you die.  Here I had this whole plan about choking you out in a way that wouldn’t leave marks.  This is way better.”

“Not…  Jen…en…enifer…”

“Morgan.  Your nephew.  At least I used to be.  Now thanks to the ****** up list of hormones and glands your butchers harvested from me the best way to save my life was to turn me into your niece.  Which in a way I am grateful for.  You made it clear I wasn’t your sort of ‘guy’ growing up.  That I should have been born a woman.  Which now that I am I think you were right about.  For all your other victims I still have plenty of people to kill.”

Eckhardt stood, walked into the bathroom as a knock came from the door.  She quickly got out of her dress and slipped a robe on, kicking her shoes off.

She went back to the door and opened it a crack.

“We heard something.  And the lights are out.  Everything okay in there?”  The guard asked.

“Yes.  Doctor Eckhardt just got a little carried away for his age but he’s fine.  We don’t exactly need lights for what we’re trying to get up to.  If you’re done interrupting us…”

“Right, sorry.”

Eckhardt waited about ten minutes then took a quick shower.

Dried, clothed, and satisfied Morgan Eckhardt walked out of the penthouse suite.

“He’s resting and asked not to be disturbed.”

With little more than a nod Eckhardt was back in the elevator.

She walked right on out without any challenge whatsoever.  The groundcar waiting for her.

The groundcar was halfway down the hill when it pulled over to the side of the road where Lara and Carl were waiting with the service truck.

“Everything in place?”  Eckhardt asked.

“Yeah.  Everything will point back at the missing guard we took out.  No one will come looking for us.”  Lara nodded.

“Then time to go home.”  Morgan smiled.  “One down, a lot more to go.”

To be continued

[Daryk]

Social invisibility is the best kind of invisibility... ;)

[wolfgar]

yeah, i can see Kerensky sending the loonies home before actually reaching Terra over that, he would have had a Bluewood staff waiting with his name on it, the only one used on Terra outside of Amaris himself.

[monbvol]

[Co-Author]  Since writing on this one is going a bit slower and I suspect Cannonshop's going to be putting in a fair bit of overtime for a while at his day job I'm only planning on a Monday-Wednesday-Friday posting scheme unless we need to slow down posting even more.  [/Co-Author]

Chapter Four: You can't always get away.

"Did they leave Eckhardt's notes?" General Dalton asked. 

"No sir.  His digital backups are also corrupted and even if we could recover them we’re pretty sure Doctor Eckhardt encrypted them."

The General scowled and looked out the windows.  "There goes twenty years of progress on a super-soldier program, then.  We'll have to start over.  Truscott's going to be livid, we didn't even get the facility designs?"

"Purged, sir.  We're not even sure HOW they purged it."

"Well, maybe we should clean-sheet it, have a look at the Eugenics approach again…doing it the slow way." He shook his head.  "Alright…you know we're going to need another location, even if we use the cloning approach, we're still going to need another location.  We're too close to a public that might have objections to having their path to advancement cut off in favor of grown personnel."

“A lot of the troops might have problems with that sir.”

“Which is why it’s classified eyes only, alpha one clearance.  Got it?”

“Yes, General.”

We lost a brilliant mind, with a novel approach, and now we're going to have to default to a rejected alternative, dammit.

“What next general?”

"Next, I go talk to Kerensky, and let him know that cyber supersoldiers aren't going to be a thing, and neither is direct neural implantation of military skills-I'll frame it as failures to cover your security people.  If he wants super-soldiers we're going to have to breed them."

“You’d think as a Doctor, Eckhardt would have taken better care of himself.  A heart attack.  Damn.”

"Well, physician heal thyself, do you have any leads on who attacked the databases we were keeping his experiments on?" the General asked,  "Because even if we're abandoning his approach, that much data loss can't be an accident."

“Nothing useful.  Whoever did it was good.  They made it look like unlikely but normal hardware failures for the most part or the rare but still happens data corruption.  Only reason we know for sure it’s an attack is how widespread it is and how precise it is.”

"Find that slicer then, if they knew enough to go after Project:Proteus, they might compromise something a lot more immediate…if they're not already in the ranks, in which case, it's a traitor, and we can't afford that."

“Yes sir,  I have my best people on it.  Hell, someone that good I want to recruit.”

“If that’s what it takes.  Make them an offer they can’t refuse.  I don’t care.  Either working for us, in a cell, or in the ground.  Those are the options.”

“Yes sir.”

**2**

Conrad Toyama was standing across the desk from Jerome Blake with a dour look on his face.

“What do we know?”

“General Kerensky’s people are stonewalling us.”

"So…they don't think the data breach was an accident.  Did they trace it back to us?"

"No.  As far as SLIC's special projects guys are concerned, they're thinking it's connected to another event, the luck we have in that Eckhardt had the decency to die on his own under a hooker, well…"

"Reclassify it under something innocuous, Conrad."  Blake said, "Keep the data sequestered for now, maybe put it under 'communications research'."

“Not a problem.  The less attention on us right now the better.”  Conrad nodded.

"Have they asked for technical assistance in finding the people who hacked their database?" Blake asked.

“Kidding?  Those SLIC guys think they’re unbeatable.  Of course we’ve got our eyes on a few of them that would prove useful.”

Blake looked out the windows at Chesapeake Bay.  "Set up a crew ready to 'help' them if they ask, but we play dumb about this." Jerome sipped his coffee before putting the cup back on the desk.  "We play dumb, we don't know they had a data breach."

“I have just the people in mind.  And with us in charge of the information nets, not just the HPG nets, they’ll never find anything leading to us.”

"You didn't ask me why I ordered it, Conrad." he turned to eye his protege. "Aren't you even curious why I wanted the information, and wanted to deny it to the military?"

“Because Kerensky’s short sighted.  He’d never see the full potential of the technology.  He’d just create crude instruments of violence.”

"Someone will." Blake said, "If something is possible, someone will do it, we have the information so we can identify who, and stop them, Conrad."  Blake said, "Wars cost lives, and if you don't value the lives, the wars just keep going."

“That is inevitable.  But in the hands of a man like Kerensky?  It’d be like giving a blow torch to a toddler and turning them loose in a munitions factory and telling them it’s full of fireworks.”

"Let me clarify.  We have a duty to enforce the Mother Doctrine.  The House Lords are nuts, one of them is going to try this, maybe all of 'em, and they need to fail every time they try it or they'll make it worse."

“Yes.  Kerensky’s already selling them Hegemony technological secrets to keep his army functioning.”

"Fight one fire at a time, Conrad.  This one's put out for the time being.  Now, let's go over our Regular Operations Management plans…"

**3**

"You're okay with this, Carl?"  Morgan asked.

"I said I'm good with it." Nixon assured her.  "I'm not just doing this for you, I'm doing it for me, too…now have you found what you want to order? I think the waiter's coming."

“Yeah.  Thanks Carl.  I guess after ten years of fighting for dreams and us all finding out they are nightmares has left us all a little jaded.”

Carl smiled across the table from her, some of us were living in the nightmares before that, though.  You don't need to know about that.  Though you also know a bit something about that yourself.  It’s why we get along so well.  "Waiter's definitely coming."

“Made up my mind.”  Morgan nodded.

"Oui, nous aimerions commander.  Je prendrai l’escalope de saumon rôti aux amandes, avec du vin blanc et des asperges braisées…"  Carl said to the waiter, "Ma dame voudrait... ?"

"Carl, I didn't know you spoke french!"

"What do you want, Morgan?" he asked, "we'll see if I remember how to say it!"  It's been a long time since growing up in Quebec, after all.

“I’ll have the dinner salad.”  Morgan was still in shock.  “All these years we’ve been together and I’m still finding out things about you.”

The waiter wrote down the order and hurried away.

Over her shoulder, Carl watched Billingsley finish his fourth course of the night, chatting amiably with a group of industrialists.  Yeah, you never know, do you? the target stood up to go to the head, apologizing to his guests.

“Fat bastard makes my skin crawl.”  Morgan said quietly.

"Fat while people he allegedly represents are starving? Yeah."  The hit wasn't here. It couldn't be.  Mike wanted more information on who was corrupt in this city, who was enabling it, who was profiting.

Carl was fine with it, though he felt some trepidation at being back in Montreal after leaving twenty years ago.  I was eighteen, I'm thirty eight now, and it's a big city…nobody's going to know me here these days.

But he couldn't wholly shake the feeling of something impending.

“Carl?  It’s me.  You know you can talk to me.  Something’s off with you.  I can see it.”  Morgan said quietly.

He refocused on her, and smiled, "Just woolgathering." We can talk about this later, in private.

“Okay.  So how do you want to play this?  I know it’s been a while but you still know more about this city and it’s people than I do.  So this is your show.”

He gave her a crooked smile, "Stick with me for now, remember, we're supposed to be on an unofficial date, and flirting." 

“I can do that.”  Morgan smiled.

Billingsley, Goodyear, Fausten, Chu…  Billingsley took five minutes in the bathroom and sat back down with his friends.  Still missing Frasier.

Becca Frasier came into the restaurant and joined the two industrialists and the politician. There we are. he reached out and gave Eckhardt the signal by taking her hand.

Eckhardt activated the recording device, while they conversed on 'romantic' topics.

“Hmmm, I love the way your black suit brings out the red in your hair.  Of course you’ll look even more stunning covered in their blood.”  Morgan played up their cover.

"Woman you are cruel, blood is sticky." he said, "you look lovely tonight as you are…but then, you do that routinely even when you don't dress for it."

“True.  Hmmm…  Frasier.  Something about her seems off.”

“She’s an uncaring, unscrupulous woman of the highest order.  Everything is on her terms or not at all.  And her terms don’t include making sure her people are treated with dignity and respect.”

“So basically what you’re saying is that whole table needs to die and the universe will be better for it.”

"Not dinner conversation." Carl said, subtly nodding.  "But not here…here comes our food."

“I’m starved.  I might even expand my protein menu later since someone’s being such a good boy.”

"Promises promises."

“I can go all night long.”

"Then I won't have to worry about you falling asleep…"

“I took my stims.  I’m likely to be up for days.”

“Just like London.”

“That wasn’t my fault.  I only fell asleep because I nearly broke my arm getting tossed around my mech and Doc had to put me on the good pain killers.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well if I fall asleep this time you have my permission to put me over your knee and spank me.”

“Not the kinkiest I’ve been promised.”

“Then you also have my permission to get inventive.”

“Deal.  Shit they just ordered another round of drinks.”

“Which means we’re going to have to do the same so we can maintain overwatch.  Good thing we planned for this to be a possibility.”

“You oxy up first.  I’ve got this.”

“A true gentleman.”  Morgan gave Carl a kiss on the cheek as she went to the ladies’ room.

She checked to make sure she was alone before she popped the oxygen pill.  It wouldn’t keep her from getting drunk if they really tried getting drunk but it’d work well enough to give the appearance of a young couple spending the evening drinking a bottle of wine together without either of them becoming too drunk.

As she went back to the table and sat down she discreetly checked the remote feed.

“We’re still good.”

“My turn.  The bottle should be here shortly.”

Carl walked off to the men’s room.

Their conversation became louder, more boisterous.

By the time Carl came back other patrons were getting up, paying their tabs, and leaving.

The waiter brought the bottle of wine in time for Carl’s return.

“Apologies.”  The waiter said.

“Not your fault.”  Carl shook his head.  Some people were just never raised with proper manners.

The waiter nodded and walked off.

“So where were we?”

“I believe we left off promising each other a kinky fun time if you fall asleep on the job.  Again.”

“So we were.  Well.  We have this bottle of wine, we should start working on it.”

“Invitation accepted.”  Carl poured a glass for each of them.

A few hours later back at the Murderhobo’s temporary base

Carl placed Eckhardt on the couch as she gently snored.

“Light weight.  Knew you’d fall asleep on me.  Fortunately we got everything we needed.”

Carl sat in the recliner then fell asleep himself.

The morning light and the smells of cooking food woke them up.

Theresa was humming in the kitchen as she worked on breakfast.

“Have fun?”  Mike asked loudly.

“Ow…  Even with the pills that was painful.”  Eckhardt groaned as she woke up.

Carl just blinked himself awake.

“Recordings.”  Carl said as he pulled a data disk out of his pocket.

“Food’s ready.”  Theresa almost sang.

She put a bowl in front of everyone.

They all looked at the contents.  It was food.  But nothing like they were used to.  It smelled savory and buttery.  It had the look of a porridge.

Eckhardt tried it experimentally.  Then started eating it frantically.

Everyone shortly after started eating it.

“What was that?  It was good.  Hell, even my hangover is gone.”  Eckhardt asked.

“Traditional home cooking.  So much better when it’s not full of all those unnatural things.”  Theresa answered.

“Okay now that we’re fed, got our morning coffee in us, time to listen to the recordings and plan the next phase of our current mission.”  Mike declared.

Styles studied the imagery and listened with the rest to the conversation of the targets.

"Security is going to be a problem, especially with Frasier." She finally said, "I watched her arrival, and departure.  They were careful, part of her delay was sending security personnel to verify the area ahead of her."

Lara nodded.  "Billingsley was the same, though his included some people you wouldn't expect."

"Chu will be a simple matter." Vien contributed, "he only has the two bodyguards and the driver, his apartments in downtown are in a secured building, but it has a publicly accessible collection of storefronts on the ground level, and a subway connection."

“Yeah even from where I was in the restaurant I couldn’t help but notice some of those guys were former Special Forces.  Specially trained in protecting generals against head hunting attack types.”  Morgan sipped her coffee.

"So they'll be well prepared for a specific sort of approach." Mike mused, "Direct actions, not indirect."

“Man.  We seem to have the worst luck since we started operating on our own.  ‘No just blowing up the building’, ‘no collateral damage’, and now we’ll be up against pros.”  Styles frowned.

"Fausten's guards took him to his known address, he went in, came out, got into a compact car, and rolled back down-town to the Interior Ministry's offices." Lara placated, "We're not the only ones in this…and Goodyear crossed the bridge for New York at two AM, isn't that right Johnny?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah, he crossed the old ex-border in a hurry, too.  Forty KPH above posted limits, and the checkpoints just waved him through."

“Curious.  What could be so important that he gets that sort of treatment I wonder?”  Lara mused.

“It also implies they were expecting him, wherever it was he was going.”  Carl observed.

Johnny typed a few keystrokes into his rig.  "Would you believe…Albany?"

“What the hell is in Albany that’s so important?”  Styles asked.”

"SLDF Logistics Command for the 133rd Royal Division." Mike said, "My old unit."

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”  Lara asked.

"Only if it doesn't involve rubber pants our size.  I think they're not just skimming on the recovery funds, they're either buying or selling arms from or to people who probably shouldn't have them."

“Yup.  That’s what I was thinking.  They’re pilfering supplies.”  Lara nodded.

Carl was silent, "no." he finally said, "That's not it-those checkpoints are manned by SLDF REGULARS, not home guard pukes.  Whatever it is, it's authorized."

“It’s not exactly a secret that Kerensky’s paying the SLDF by selling Hegemony hardware and technology.”  Eckhardt furled her brow.

"It wouldn’t be clandestine if it were that…" Carl had a strange look on his face, "I mean, the other tech-transfers were above the table…"

"What're you thinking?" Eckhardt asked.

"I'm not sure yet…but it's got all the marks."

“He could be stealing from Peter to pay Paul and using substandard equipment to fill the pallets.”

"Goodyear's got ties to Skobel."  Lara pointed out, "Chu has a large minority share interest in Blue Nose, and is on their board as a Manufacturing Vice President."

“Shell game then maybe?”

"Fausten's with General Motors, nephew of the chairman, and in charge of the Michigan works…which is funny, because that factory complex is being condemned and torn down."

“Which all the tooling inside would be transferred to another site or sold off.”

“Maybe that’s it then?  With the factory being condemned everyone is expecting scrap quality machinery so that’s what they’ll get but with a little help from the others the real stuff that’s actually valuable gets sold off for top dollar without anyone knowing the wiser.”

A piece slid into place, "Billingsley's got the biggest working spaceport in North America, no damage from the fighting, and…and it's under SLDF occupation, ******."

"What?"

"General Motors Michigan is a tank plant and 'mech factory, Blue Nose is a shipyard on Luna, second biggest in the system and largely undamaged, but their primary facility is condemned for safety reasons and being dismantled.  Skobel's another one, and their primary facility's intact, but they're having to 'shut down for renovation' at the Calgary site."

"Factory tooling?"

"Factory tooling, and it's all going to be coming through Montreal, probably under SLDF guard.  The only real question is, 'who's the buyer'?"

“With Blue Nose involved, they’re looking to move it off planet too.”

"Out of the system, you mean." Vien said, "but still, that's pretty blatant, how much gear are we talking?"

“Well yeah, obviously, eventually.”

Johnny tapped at his rig. “Based on my calculations… Jesus!"

"What?"

"Everything from the Blue Nose site on Luna, that's life support fabrication, structural tooling equipment, heavy machinery, forges, foundries…need a small fleet to move it, and that's not a palms down thing unless SLDF is doing the moving."

“Someone’s setting up to bootstrap an economy, and seriously.”  Lara nodded.

"Someone is stripping this one to do it."  Johnny countered.  "GM Michigan is huge."

“There’s only one person who could authorize something that massive and have it stick.”

"Three people could.  DeChevalier, Kerensky, or Blake…and to get it going they'd need all three."

“Blake’s purview is too limited.  He would be useful but not the mastermind.”  Lara countered.

"He controls communications, and they'd want this blocked from outside observers, they'd have to have him on board."

“Like I said, useful but not the mastermind.  DeChevalier is likewise a junior member in this.  This is Kerensky.”

"DeChevalier could authorize concentrating the materials as chief of ordnance…but yeah, Kerensky would have to approve or Aaron wouldn't do it."

"So what the ****** is he doing?" Mike asked.

“He’s turning his back on the Hegemony.  It’s the only thing that makes any sense.  He can’t find an heir and now he’s finding the work of rebuilding too difficult so he’s going to pillage then take off.”  Lara scrunched her face in concentration.

Mike frowned, stood up and walked to the white-board. 

Aleksandr Kerensky.  the name was now on the hit-list, near the top.

"You're serious?" Styles asked.

"Yes.  Ideas guys? How do we kill him?"

**4**

“******.”  Mike muttered.

“What is it?”  Lara asked.

“Someone’s finally noticed we’re still on the rosters technically but not doing anything.”  Mike announced.

“We really should have faked our deaths like we originally planned.  Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”  Styles pointed out.

“So where are we going?”  Johnny asked.

“We’re being split up.  Styles and Cham, it looks like you’re being deployed to clean up Special Project 21B.  You’re going to Arluna for that.”  Mike announced.

“Clear out there?  That’s going to be a long trip.”  Styles complained.

“Cheer up Styles, I’m sure we’ll find all sorts of interesting people to have fun with.”  Cham said reassuringly.

“Lara, Nixon, Johnny, and Eckhardt, we've got orders for you three as well.  Eckhardt, you're being transferred to the 151st over in Veracruz,  Lara, you're being reassigned to HQ SLDF on New Earth, Johnny? They're reassigning you to the 92nd."  Mike handed each of them a copy of the transfer orders.

“Well at least while I’m in the HQ facility I can be on the lookout for new opportunities.  Plenty of other war criminals out there for us to track down and do something about.”  Lara nodded.

Nixon looked at Mike, "Where are they sending you, boss?"

"Guard-force Fort Leavenworth, North America." Mike replied, "Apparently they need a Command Sergeant Major to oversee the Star League's Military Prison."

“Ouch.”  Johnny shook his head.

“But where does that leave Theresa?”  Eckhardt asked.

"I'll manage." Theresa said blankly.  “As long as I don’t draw attention to myself I’ll be fine.  But here, take these tokens of my favor and gratitude.  They’re all I have to offer at the moment.”

Theresa walked to each of them and tied silk ribbons either in the hair or around the wrist of each of her champions.

Mike couldn’t help but smile as Theresa tied one around his wrist.

“If your situation ever becomes dire, burn these and I will come as swiftly as I can and render what aid I can.  Be well my champions.”  Theresa smiled.

“You do know what this means don’t you?”  Nixon pointed out.  “We’ve almost certainly lost our shot at Kerensky.  Split up like this?  We’re not going to be able to coordinate, pool resources, or do all the other things that would make something like what we’re planning from impossibly suicidal to merely suicidal.”

"For the time being."  Vien said, "There is an old saying, about patience, and being ready."

“I guess I just have this feeling we’re not going to be there for it.  Not if Kerensky is cleaning house and shuffling troops around now.”  Nixon nodded.

"What I don't get is why are you getting the shit detail, Boss?  Playing Guard on convicts?" 

Mike chuckled.  "My personnel folder has more black ink than words, I don't have a pile of medals, most of you at least made some bones before being put into…this business, but I've been at it since New Vandenberg.  Ten years of being shuffled, and the perscom pukes only see what the Generals can admit to.  My jacket has got jack-shit since doing civil affairs in the Concordat."

“Besides the HPGnet is getting worked on, we’ll all be able to stay in touch.  So if an opportunity does arise we’ll be ready.  We’ll just have to trust fate that we’ll be able to meet back up when the time is right.”  Vien pointed out.

“Well then I think this calls for the good stuff if we’re getting deployed.”  Johnny went into the main area of the warehouse that was their temporary base.

After a few minutes he returned with some bottles of alcohol.

“It is a tradition.  But don’t read too much into it if I get so blitzed out drunk I take my top off.”  Styles said flatly.

**5**

The warehouse was empty without her champions.  So Theresa arranged for it to transfer to Johnny’s contacts.  They could make better use of it than she could.

“Thank you for providing us with shelter and safety.  If your new occupants prove unworthy let me know.  I will return and remove them.”  Theresa said quietly as she stood next to a support column, one hand pressed against it.

She stepped away and walked out the front door, handing the keys to the man Johnny had introduced to her.

“Use it well.  But keep in mind there are some crimes I will not tolerate this place being used for.  If I find out you use this place to enslave others I will be back and I will render justice.  There are many things that are considered crimes that I do not care about though.  So if you do use it for those I will not care.”  Theresa said calmly.

“Sure.  So where are you going to go?  We could put you to work.  Money would be good.”

“Somewhere where no one will look at me twice, at least not with suspicion.”  Theresa smiled and walked away.

Some small functions of normality had been restored.  One of these was the city bus service.

Theresa waited for the one she wanted and stepped aboard quietly, depositing the hard currency she needed to pay in the bin for the fare.

The bus was crowded but quiet.

More and more people got on at each stop on the route.  Eventually a young mother and her child got on and Theresa gave up her seat for her.

“Thank you.”  The young woman said.

“You’re welcome.”  Theresa smiled at the child.  “Here.  This will bring you luck, young one.”

Theresa slipped the silk ribbon out of her hair and tied it to the wrist of the child.

“That’s an old superstition I haven’t seen in a long time.  My Grandmother believed the same thing.”

“With what has happened some old superstitions could stand to come back.”  Theresa smiled.

The bus approached the stop Theresa was waiting for.  So were most of the other passengers.

The Aeroport was a hive of activity.

She walked up to the kiosk.  She fished out her ID that she had procured some time ago and a boarding pass.  She let the computer scan them.

There was only one last hurdle but she knew how to get past it.

From her jacket she produced another form.  A simple glamour to subtly alter her appearance and she walked up to the guard at the metal detectors.

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m going to set off your metal detectors.  My certification from my surgeon that I have metal plates in place to help heal me from injuries sustained during the aftermath and a medical authorization for travel to the University of Washington teaching hospital for removal.  Including testimonials that due to overwhelming demand ferrous plates had to be used instead of more modern composites.”

The guard looked over the thick, multi page form.

Theresa smiled whenever the guard looked at her instead of the forms.

“Going alone?”

“Yeah.  My parents, I don’t know where they are.  So my Uncle Mike will be watching me once the procedure is finished.  Should all be in the form.”

“Ah there it is.  You know you could have filled all this out digitally.  Would have made things a lot more convenient.”

“Infonets in the township were still spotty so I requested physical forms to be sure everything was in order.”

“I’ll still have to verify this with a phone call.”  The guard stepped over to one of the others.  “Keep an eye on her for me will you while I call this in?”

The other guard was certainly a handsome young man.  Theresa adjusted her jacket and top then put on her best smile.

“All is as it should be.  You shall let me pass and not recall I was ever here.  Do this for me and in return I will grant you a boon of fate.  Use it how you will.  For richess, health, or love.”

The young man’s eyes almost glazed over as he simply nodded.

Theresa kissed him on the cheek then walked around the metal detector.  None of the other guards noticed.

She would be going to the University of Washington, but not for medical treatment.  Instead limited as she was, she needed to learn more about modern humans, their technological wonders.  And no one would notice her there.  She would be just one of thousands of students.

To be Continued

[Daryk]

Was "General [Name]" deliberate?  I was going to ask via PM, but forgot before you posted this section... sorry!

[monbvol]

No.

[Daryk]

I'm doubly sorry then! :/

[monbvol]

Not your fault.

[monbvol]

[Co-Author]  Yup my project at work continues to be so absolutely soul crushing I'm barely even writing on this anymore.  You lot don't seem to be engaging with it like usual and to be honest I think we've still not set some important foundations.  I'll keep to the posting schedule until everything we have written is posted for now to see if I can get a bit more morale going again but to be honest I'm not feeling confident this story is going to get a proper resolution.  [/Co-Author]

Chapter 5: Beyond Silver Shield

Lara found answers, hell, everyone got the answer, regardless of where they were stationed, or with what unit.  The Terran Hegemony, the last state of the Star League, the only one not to vote to dissolve the League, saw the Star League's defense force pull up stakes and run away.

They knew it was coming.  They found the signs.  The relocation of industrial machinery, hell she’d even found orders for the moving of dependents of SLDF personnel.  A mammoth undertaking that had demanded almost four years of preparations.  All wrapped in the tightest security she’d ever seen and she only saw it and knew it because of her posting at New Earth and the work they had done on Terra itself before she had been re-assigned.

Kerensky was gone.  Who knows where.  That part wasn’t on any server she had access to.

The Hegemony government basically collapsed.  All that was left was the Ministry of Communications.  Now calling itself Comstar.  A few divisions stayed behind under General Hayes, and signed on with them to defend Earth itself.

"Hey, Streine, bored yet?"  She looked up from her desk, and Mike was standing in the doorway. 

“Mike.  I must admit I was starting to wonder if we’d see each other again.”  Lara smiled.

"Well…with everyone leaving on Kerensky's coattails, I got released from snot-wiping convicted felons."

“It’s all but over now isn’t it?”  Lara sighed.  “The Star League, The Hegemony.”

"The Star League was over when they decided not to actually do anything to recover." Mike stated, "We're in the rotting corpse of our ideals and the nation we swore to defend.  I have a better idea."

“So we are.  Blake’s trying and doing more than Kerensky did.”

"Only because he has to.  They're going to dismantle this base and ship everything to Terra, it's what the unit I got assigned to is here for…but not why I'm here."

“You’re talking like you have a better idea.”

"Yep.  Since the dream is dead, want to help me find the bastards who killed it and make them pay?"

"Who do you have?" Lara rolled the sleeve on her uniform jacket back to reveal Theresa’s favor.

"Nixon, Eckhardt, Wangker, Styles.  Vien went back to the CapCon but he'll come if I call, and Theresa…and I know where some of our stuff was stashed."

“We’re really going to have to steal our mechs this time aren’t we?”

"Please! Everyone knows the most effective thief uses paper, not lockpicks, to steal the really good stuff, I just need you to drop one of Wangker's custom viruses on a couple file locations before they disconnect the data core here.  When it powers up, those locations simply won't exist...to everyone else.  Call it 'taking an early retirement' before the company goes bankrupt."

“Just like last time.”

"We won't exist either." Mike told her.  "Not that some of us have much official existence to begin with, but if you're in, you'll be de-listed. No birthday, no record, no past."

“Mike, I consider it a miracle no one has come to give me a fatal sunburn, severe lead poisoning, or a case of really bad shellfish to cover up what we did in the war.”

"I imagine, someone would.  Maybe even someone tried." He said cryptically, "but…"

“Uh huh.  You would wouldn’t you?  But the less said the better.”

"I have my alibi, I was just a guard." He said innocently.

“I haven’t changed my mind from last time.  Everyone else may have forgotten, gone insane, turned monstrous or traitor.  I haven’t.  I’m in all the way.”  Lara stared Mike in the eyes, baring her soul.

“Then you’ll need this totally innocuous datachip.”  Mike handed over the small electronic device.

**2**

MS Gloria, Merchant Class…undisclosed system

"This is your coordinates?"  Sheri Trung asked. 

"Yeah.  Can you hang around here for a few?"

"It takes a week and a half to re-charge the drive." the ex Free-Stars spacer asserted.  "What're you expecting to find?"

Theresa looked at Mike and he answered, "A few things, keepsakes, souvenirs from a past life."

"Uh-huh…like I said, I can wait here for a week and a half, can you get your stuff in that time?"

"We can.  This job, I offered you pay…Theresa?"

"What do you want, Miss Trung?  More than anything in your life?"

The young-looking Belter's eyes narrowed, "Ganymede." she said it without filtering, without hesitation, and without conscious thought.  "I want revenge for Ganymede, fo' the burrows they smashed open and the children who died."

Theresa smiled.  She reached into her jacket and pulled out a flask.  She took a swig then handed it to Sheri.

“I can help with that.  Drink and we seal a pact.  I aid you in your quest for revenge, you aid me in mine.”  Theresa smiled.

"Take all the time you need, Mister Mike."  Sheri said after drinking, "I can wait."

Theresa collected the flask and then set it on the navigation board.  “You too Gloria.”

After a moment Theresa smiled then collected the flask.

“She’s different.”  Sheri noted.

“Very.”  Mike nodded.

"New digs?"  Styles asked.

"We'll make good use of them." Mike said, "The ship will wait for us, for now, we need to check out our base of operations.  It has been…cleansed from the record."

“I don’t want to know.  If I don’t know, I can’t reveal where our base is if I get captured and interrogated.”  Lara asserted.

“I think you might have waited a bit too long to get her out of her desk job boss.”  Johnny said.

**3**

"What was this?"  Nixon asked, "I mean, this is a lot of base to just…lose."

"Staging base.  I had our equipment transferred here, then transferred the garrison to other commands, that was..what, boss how long ago?" Lara answered.

"About a month before Exodus left." Mike agreed, "Which helped me maintain my alibi as a prison guard, and yours as a Logistics officer…but before all that, this was a research facility-one of a dozen or so that Skobel used for equipment development for SLIC's special operations before New Vandenberg."

“A nice couch, some throw pillows, a fresh coat of paint, and curtains.  I’m thinking pastels.”  Styles surveyed the area.

"We'll talk about that.  For now, let's get moving to the south landing area and make sure we have a dropship that works." Nixon said, "we'll also want to go over our 'mechs and make sure they're not…screwed up from being stored and shifted as cargo, right?"

“Yup.  Hop to.”  Makie nodded.

The 'mech hangers were on the way.

"Boss, there are too many." Tumbled out of Lara's mouth first.

"Yeah, we're going to be picking up a few here and there." Mike said cryptically.  "Don't worry, we should have enough dropships to handle it as the unit gets bigger."

“We’re not exactly on the logistical system anymore.  So we’re going to need spares too.”  Nixon nodded.

"What do you see over there?" Mike pointed.

"Uh, looks like a machine and…fabrication shop?"

"We'll need to find people to work it, but yeah. And there's a storage depot on the lower level, if we did it all correctly, we should have plenty of spares."

“Finding people will be easy enough.  Plenty of others like us out there who’re disillusioned with how things turned out after the war.”

"We're going to be on the lookout for the right people."  Mike asserted, "You’ll know when we find them."

“Yes we will.”  Theresa nodded.

**3**

"Didn't you have a Major in the logistics section, Hayes?" Jerome Blake asked.

"Not according to records.  I think the last one we had was…Smythe? Stren? An 'S' name, anyway-she left with Kerensky."  General Lauren Hayes dismissed, "Why are you concerned?"

"No reason, after all."  Good, maybe the whole bunch left with Kerensky.  Jerome Blake had dispersed the 177th independent action team, the 'Murderhobos', to keep them from being a problem.  Verifying that they weren't anywhere near HIS operations was a relief.

"Start demoblizing the 'merc' units for now, I've made my point to the House Lords, they're willing to back off on Terra."

"For now, what happens when they change their minds?"

"Well, that's why we're not scrapping gear, isn't it?  We'll make arrangements to keep the veterans available and ready for call-back if we need it, but for the moment, we need to focus on rebuilding the infrastructure so we have something to defend."  He sighed, "If I'd had more time, we could've held the Hegemony…if Kerensky hadn't taken so much, we'd have more time, if he hadn't left when he did, we'd have more time…but we've got to deal with things as they are."

“Yes sir.”  Hayes nodded.

"Lauren, get some of your navy people out to the Metis Congress and the belts, let them know we're not…going to continue what Amaris started, or what Richard started with Ganymede."

“Gladly.  I just hope we have credibility with them.”

"We'll need to build it if we don't-I won't have a ****** atrocity in my backyard, and we don't want a civil war.  Talk Peace with the Belters, get them to at least not align against us."

“Yes sir.”

Going to need a special government branch to deal with the outer system…why didn't Kerensky at least try to get them back on side?

He looked out the windows of the HPG center, as the General went off to do General things.  At least I don't have to think about what to do with DeChevalier's pet psychopaths.

He sipped lukewarm coffee, then turned to examine the morning's reports on the network's status.

So far the Communications Protocol of 2787 was working.  The House Lords were starting to look at each other as enemies rather than Terra.

**4**

"...abandoned our nation, for what?? To wander in the darkness with no goal? No end, just keep moving around until we run out of air, food, water?"

“Yeah.  How many perfectly habitable systems do we need to go by before we get where we’re supposed to be going?”

"There is no 'where we're supposed to be going'.  The Old man's got us running into nowhere, and the excuse doesn't make sense…"

“Then we should turn back.”

"We shouldn't have left in the first place." 

The mutineers took a vote, while their disgraced former Captain looked on.

"What do we do with him?"

The former XO of the Prinz Eugen cleared his throat,  "It's not a mutiny." he said, "it's not a mutiny, because we're going to return to our duty station and take up our lawful post.  We're leaving a Mutiny.  Make it clear to your sections and divisions."

"What about the CO?"

"Yes, well, he's going to stand trial, under the law, and face legal consequences for barratry and incitement to desert, along with conduct unbecoming an officer of the Star League Defense Force.  Put him in a cell for now."

“Yes sir.”

"Make sure his guards understand he's no longer fit to command, and post a suicide watch.  We're the ****** STAR LEAGUE NAVY, not a bunch of pirates in stolen gear."

The Nav officer waited for the rest of the division heads to leave.  "What's our route?"

"We'll go back, back along the antispinward, stop off at Kowloon for refuel, then back to the Hegemony. It's the only state that didn't vote to dissolve, so it's Star League territory."

"Aye sir…what about anyone else?"

He hesitated, "I don't know." he said, "I don't know which ships still have actual officers and which ones are just bandits following a personality cult."

“We’ll have to trust that others will see to themselves.  We can’t help all of them.  Hell if we try to help any of them, we’re outnumbered hundreds to one.”  The Engineering Chief grumbled.

The XO nodded, remembering how many died in retaking the ship from Kerensky's watchers, including women and children caught in the crossfire.

"Yeah."

He wouldn't live long enough to really suffer those regrets.  They didn't even have the drive fully charged when Kerensky sent a punitive expedition to retake the ship.

Kerensky’s office, McKenna’s Pride

It was starting already. He knew it would.  He just hoped it would take them longer, past the point of no return.

He knew next time would be worse.  Or they’d be smarter.  All it would take is a ship deciding not to jump to the agreed upon coordinates.  It was only a matter of time.

“Congratulations, you're the senior surviving mutineer, Lt. Commander McShane." Kerensky said to the man standing in bindings in front of his desk.

"You got that backwards sir. So ****** you, sir."  The second shift engineering chief of the Prinz Eugen hadn't managed to get killed resisting arrest, though he got pretty close. 

"You've been found guilty, you will be executed by spacing."

"Better than the stink of serving a bandit and deserter.  Let's get on with it."

“You don’t understand.  None of you do.  And I don’t have the luxury of the time to explain it to you.”

"We all swore an oath, but you decided it was toilet paper, and you've got your lackeys and your cocksuckers to support you, but I'll still die with my honor intact, you sack of shit.  MY word actually means something."

“At least your death will be more merciful than what is coming for us now…”

When they held the trial for the crews, McShane's mouth was bound, and when he was sent out the airlock, it was after a subtle lethal injection, because Aleksandr Kerensky was not a monster.

At least, he didn't think he was.

I’ll need to address the fleet about this.  I’ll have to make it one hell of a speech.

Kerensky returned to his office.  He would need to think about what he was going to say carefully.

Return to the Inner Sphere is impossible for us. Our heritage and our convictions are different from those we left behind. The greed of the five Great Houses and the Council Lords is a disease that can only be burned away by the passing of decades, even centuries. And though the fighting may seem to slow, or even cease, it will erupt again as long as there are powerful men to covet one another's wealth. We shall live apart, conserving all the good of the Star League and ridding ourselves of the bad, so that when we return — and return we shall — our shining moral character will be as much our shield as our BattleMechs and fighters.

General Order 137
Signed Aleksander Kerensky
Commanding General SLDF

**5**

Caddo City, New Dallas…

…reached ten thousand degrees celsius in under a second.  Three hundred thousand civilians died.  Lightyears away, Theresa felt a surge, and so did the others. 

"New friends?" Mike asked.

"No." she shook her head, "No new friends to make.  It was a tragedy, but not one connected to mine…are you and the others ready?"

"We're ready.  Where shall we go, then, if not toward New Dallas?"

"There is work soon." she assured him, "Work that must be done…and new friends to make."

“Humanity is going insane.”  Mike nodded.

“Lust for power is nothing new.”  Theresa shook her head.

“Without SLIC it’s going to be tougher for us to find preferred targets.”  Lara observed.

“We’ll just have to keep our own ears out as best as we can.  Make contacts along the way.  Maybe even with what is going on, expand our target list.”  Johnny added.

“Yeah, we’re good but we’re not nuke proof and those seem to be getting used like they’re in danger of going out of style.”  Nixon nodded.

“That’s true.  So for right now, we do have some leads on some of Amaris’ former toadies that might have gotten to ground in the rapidly becoming former Rim Worlds Republic territory.  We’ll start scouring out there first.  Give the House Lords some time to get the need to nuke things out of their systems.”  Mike nodded.

“This travel between Star Systems method you humans have devised is a most interesting experience.  I can’t wait to experience it again.”  Theresa giggled.

"You'll have to wait."  Sheri Trung said from the doorway.  "I had to come down here, and I'm going to need the machine shop for a while."

“No problem.  If we can help in any other way let us know.”

"Yes, you can.  Number four seal on the main drive is going bad, I need someone who can run a lifter 'mech and follow instructions or our next jump out may well be the last one we ever get."

“I’ll take care of it.”  Lara volunteered.

“Poor Gloria.  She was complaining about her advanced age.”  Theresa frowned.

"Well, we're also going to be fabricating a few cryogenic liquid helium pumps, and I don't like the look of some of our emergency gear, and I think, if the parts are available, we'll need to do some refresh on the life support and sensor arrays…but right now, we need to start assembling a ninety meter diameter composite ring, one meter thick."

“You heard our ride.  If we don’t want to set up a permanent colony here we need to go over the inventory and see what we can make use of and get to work on making what we need to.”  Mike ordered.

“I know I still have a lot to learn but if I can, I want to help.”  Theresa smiled.

"This would be easier with a shipyard, wouldn't it?" Nixon asked.

"Yes, but you didn't steal a shipyard, or hide one in the paperwork, or whatever it was you did that got you a bunker complex on a dead moon-we're going to need to hope you managed to steal several hundred metric tons of the right material or we'll have to have adventures in building a foundry."


“Too bad we’re out of the system and now too far away from any of the service yards anyway.”

"Yes, it would be easier if you could just order in…now, before my bones give out, can we please get through the inventory?" Nixon realized the woman was sweating and desperately trying to hide her fatigue in one gravity.

Theresa stepped over to Sheri and laid a hand on Sheri’s shoulder.

Sheri could feel a comforting warmth flow through her body.  She still didn’t like being on the surface but somehow she felt braver and her bones hurt a little less from the gravity.

The others broke off into search teams to find the bits and pieces they needed.

“You’re really not human are you?”  Sheri said once the two of them were alone.

“Nope.  But for now it is the mask I must wear.”

**6**

"You've had an idea." Mike said, as the sound of industrial grade machinery was turning up two levels.

Johnny nodded.  "Yeah.  You want a specific sort of jobs.  We all do, I think. Maybe it's her influence, but maybe it's just that every one of us, including that fragile belter hiding in orbit, we all still have some remnant of…call it integrity."  Johnny slid a gloved finger along a bit of regimental silver from his original unit.  "Not money, call it 'justice' or revenge…I have an idea."

"Okay??"

"We need information, we need to gather intel.  I was in the signals section of my last Regiment, at least when I wasn’t driving a ‘mech."

“Not to mention you have a knack for making unconventional friends.  Think you could get the HPG up and running again and get us some information?”

“As long as ‘Comstar’ hasn’t changed the codes, yeah I can get information routed to us.  The core’s reasonably intact.  Give me a couple days and I should have us in business.”

"Get what you can, and let me know what you need." Mike said, "and keep it as low-key as you can make it, we need intel, not unwanted guests."

“On it boss.”

**7**

They'd been here for more than a year.  It didn't feel like a year.  It's just that it takes time.  Time to get infrastructure in place.

It took even more time, to put things back into storage and have them ready.  In that time, they learned things.

The orgies of atrocity left billions of victims, billions of worthy candidates for help, for vengeance, for justice.

It also left a virtual web of possibilities open.   Somehow, it has to be prioritized.

"Kentares is too big, too general, and it's going to be settled conventionally-or with nukes, the point is it'll be settled by armies."  Nixon said, laying a poker chip on the table.

"Smaller scale then?"

Nixon nodded, and looked at Eckhardt.  "It's like Elbar, only bigger, and maybe not really-the atrocity at Elbar was organlegging, this mess at Kentares is just mass murder, it's not industrialized the same way, a primal scream instead of cold-hearted butchery."

"Are we agreed then?" Mike asked the others.

Thoughtful looks were exchanged, as each member of the team laid their poker chip in the pile, everyone except Johnny Wangker, who hesitated.

"What is it?"

"My old unit." He said.  "We're sure they weren't there?"

"You parsed the data, the 104th was six systems coreward, Johnny, attacking on a different front."

Johnny tossed his chip in.  "Agreed.  Kentares is horrible, but it's too big for us."

"So, ideas?"

Eckhardt took her chip out of the pile, then, "Simpler." she said. "Forget world crushing, let's look at smaller tragedies, people who can be avenged."

"You found something in the data?" Mike asked.

"I did.  It's small-scale, there are victims, the perpetrators are just strong enough, the odds of their being taken down in the normal course of things are almost nonexistent, it's got all the elements we agreed on when we walked out."

"I'm listening…"

"Ellefsen with the 104th." Eckhardt said, "is still alive."

"Ellefsen…mister 'burn them like Forlough'?"

"Same guy."  she nodded.  "He's doing atrocities for the Draconis Combine now, smaller scale, and for pay.  Putting the boot on Radstadt for House Kurita.  It's a trip, but if there's anything we know about Gary Ellefsen, it's that he's got enemies, and he's got victims.  The only reason he wasn't in a stockade by the end of our war, was that they damned near held on to everyone, even guys…like him."

"I can't believe they didn't cashier that son of a bitch, didn't he-"

"He did." Nixon confirmed, "but while it was an open secret, the JAG never could get a case together.  I suspect the reason he stayed behind had more to do with not wanting to be found 'accidentally' outside an airlock.  There's no way his connections would protect him that far out and he had to know that."

"So…we know who we WANT to go after, is anyone actually looking?"

"Want ads from the Galatea Gazette, they admit they can't pay much…" Eckhardt suggested.

"Sheri, are we ready to make a trip that far? Galatea?"

"Fueled, ship's in ship-shape, I can see there's at least a dozen contracts I can take between here, and Galatea that will take us there, most without running into anyone's navy."

"Let's go see if we can meet a customer." Mike said, "We know what job we want, but it remains to be seen if we can find it.  All agreed?"

Nods around the table, as they took their poker chips out of the pot on the table.

"We'll be docking up soon, Sheri, be ready to weigh anchor for Galatea when the dropship docks." Mike ordered.

To Be Continued

[Cannonshop]

[out of story]

I'm sorry about being unavailable, but I've been dealing with both work and personal issues of a nature I'm not ready to discuss, except that it's impacted sleep and free time, and not in a good way.

[monbvol]

And that's certainly fair.  Especially since I know where you work and I know how corporate is and even if that wasn't your area I do imagine it has been all hands on deck.

[The Wobbly Guy]

So what's scary about Theresa?

Imagine some shmuck does somehow free her from her magical restraints and asks her to take over the human sphere...

She replicates the Galadriel scene (you know the one, where she rejects the Ring), followed by the guys groaning, "Why are you quoting Tolkien?"

[Daryk]

More than fair, Cannonshop!  I've been following the news closely...  Heck, if other things go like they're looking to go, I might drop off entirely for a bit...

As far as Theresa, freeing her from her restraints won't go anything like anyone doing so might imagine beforehand... >:D

[Grognard]

with all the bad luck dogging Boeing these days; and the subject of the current story...
which engineer broke a dropship worth of Mirrors?

[monbvol]

Some out of story good news, life isn't kicking our asses quite so hard now so me and Cannonshop got a decent chunk of writing done today.

[Daryk]

And Google has magically granted me edit access!  It's a bit too close to bedtime tonight, but as long as my access holds, I'll be rolling up my sleeves this weekend! :)

[monbvol]

Chapter 6: Small Jobs

Galatea, 2794…

The want ad led nowhere, at least, cosmetically, unless one really feels a need to fall for an ISF Honeytrap.

Theresa smelled the trap before Mike could walk into it, and passed it along to the others-the 'refugee group' offering the bounty were no more refugees than they were actually looking for action against the leader of the 104th Hussars.

But that didn't mean there wasn't work…Just very small scale.

There are actual refugees, after all, and there are plenty that are both angry, and desperate, small injustices too.

"What can you pay?"  Mike asked.  The thin woman wasn't thin from watching her weight or trying to be attractive.  She had two worn Star League ten dollar notes, a small pendant, and bruises.

For twenty Star League Dollars and a cheap platinum-and-copper necklace, Mike killed a pimp who was related to the city governor.

"What can you pay?"  Nixon asked.  The widow in front of him had hungry children, and a worn pile of useless, worthless currency-the Terran Hegemony was no longer a solvent nation, their currency was no longer worth anything.

For one hundred eighty seven Star League Dollars, a human trafficker specializing in the sale of children to perverts was burned alive, this included the man's bodyguards.  A dozen young girls didn't know who freed them from the hold of a transport dropship, or why there were MRE's to eat.

"What can you pay?"  Lara asked.  The shop-owner laid down House Bills in neat rolls, taken from his own cash register, and glared over her shoulder at a group of criminals who demanded 'protection payments'.

This involved the rest of the unit, and the Night Nyves street gang took several days to die horribly.  Styles even took trophies for that one.

"What can you pay?" and a city official had an accident, paid for by a homeowner whose home was taken under the law, only to be given to a political friend at below market value.

Among the disenfranchised, the downtrodden, the exploited and the victimized, the word got around.  The Murderhobos would take anything for pay, and do anything for it-but you had to pay them everything you could pay.

Revenge, justice, turning the tables.  If your life had gotten that bad, if you were that desperate, they would take your job, and they would complete it.

With each act of justice delivered Theresa could feel herself getting stronger, more capable.  If not for the restraints that still bound her anyway.  But eventually even those would give way.

For those who had children she showed some generosity for them.

"What can you pay?"  Eckhardt asked.  The father winced, he had nothing, his children had nothing, nothing but the clothes on their backs, and a howling emptiness where a wife and mother had once been.  She could feel it, across the table.

She shot a desperate look to her right, and Theresa looked thoughtfully back, then, The Boss approached.

"What can you do?" Mike asked.

"Do?"

"Not all trade is cash." Mike said, "What can you do?"

"I'm just a farmer…"

“We could use farmers.”  Mike nodded.  "I have a job for you, we'll call it work in trade, if you don't mind…travel.  I'll make the men who did this pay, and you work for us after, until the balance is paid, fair?"

"Fair? I have children…"

"You can't work if you aren't fed, you can't pay it back if you keep having nothing." Mike asserted.  "Call it an investment."

“Your children can come as well.  They will be provided with an education and medical care.”  Theresa proclaimed.

That night, and for the next seven days, a police department died, and at the end of those seven days, Mike's Murderhobos lifted from Galatea spaceport.

Once word had gotten around that they would accept trade in skills they also had a small complement of passengers and their families.

Behind them, rumours linked them to the legends of The Folk, stateless spacers who would spirit people away.  It was so close to the truth…but the subtle rekindling of the reputation of the Fae gave Theresa a tiny bit more strength, a tiny bit reinforced by subtle rumours she'd spread reminding people of ancient legends of the Sidhe, and the Wild Hunt.

Tiny tributes of rekindled Belief.  Her Glamour strengthened.

This was a good trip, for her.

**2**

"I saw it in you, Sheri."  Theresa said.

"You're bringing back the old ways, we haven't done this kind of thing in decades."  Sheri argued, "It's…it's the real reason..."

"Not entirely." Theresa said, "You know that."

"Yeah, but it's what he used to excuse it to himself and his men.  The Old Ways, recruiting breeding stock, deep-spacer ways."


"YOUR people's ways." Theresa agreed.

"Yah…you knew."

"I knew you craved a return to what your heart says is normal, is right." Theresa agreed.

"Then…I guess I'll teach them." Sheri agreed.  "Your ways, and ours."

"All one now." Theresa said agreeably.

"Yes…I guess it is."

“Belief is a powerful thing.  As are the Contracts of old.  As such, fair is fair.  We teach, they learn, and we all prosper together.”  Theresa smiled.  “All as it should be.”

“My ship?  You keep talking about it as if it’s alive and sentient.”

“More of it has the fragments of souls of past captains and crews, bits that stayed behind when they left.  These have combined into what could be called the spirit of the ship.  She’ll help us.  And she likes you.  Be true to each other and she’ll help get you through the tough times as she always has.  Plus she has the most exquisite jokes she likes to tell me whenever we jump.”  Theresa smiled.

**3**

"They're not real, they're a rumour." The MRBC office on Galatea ruled.  The complaint was from the Mayor of the capital city.  "Obviously some mercenaries did get out of control, but to claim what you're claiming?  That's a spacer-story."

"Explain my murdered men!!"

"They ran afoul of your criminal element.  Trust me, if anyone registered or bonded through the MRBC were involved, our investigators will find them.  The people you've identified don't exist, I've run the facial recognition, they're not bonded through this authority, and cross-checked records show nobody resembling them from the SLDF, never mind the units that remained in the Star League's territory."

“With the collapse of the Hegemony and the Star League, the records are incomplete!  And now they’ve gotten off planet, even out of system by now.  This whole situation is intolerable!”

"Which is why our investigation group is digging, mister Heflin, but I can firmly assure you, no mercenary unit seeking legitimate contracts has anyone in their ranks matching your witnesses, which means it is likely to be criminals, and your officers ran into them in a bad way."

“It seems I have little choice.  I’m willing to put a bounty on these people.  Any of your mercs come across them and can bring them in, alive or dead. I don't care.  As long as we can verify, they’ll get paid.”

"Yes, you should do that." the MRBC rep agreed.  "Your description of this…'Mike's Murderhobos' unit? The way you claim they do business? It's not sustainable, if there are pirates moving through your port, you should absolutely put a firm bounty on them."

“I’ll get the funds and put them in the appropriate holding accounts by the end of the day.  Contracts too.  Now I have a police department to rebuild.”

“I could help with that too.”

“Thrice damned, money grubbing mercenaries as police!”

“It’s a major part of your economy.”

“Don’t remind me.  Fine.  But just until I can rebuild the police department.  More documents and funds to prepare.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

**4**

The world, it was supposed to be dead.  Scoured as one of the early victims of the Succession War.

Instead of radiation and disease, the farmer and his children found a farm house and good land.  It would provide for a great many people.

“Thank you.  But…  There’s so much land.  Me and my children won’t be able to look after it all by ourselves.”

“You won’t have to.  Talk to your fellows.  Find ones you like.  You’ll find that many would be willing to help you work this land.”  Theresa smiled.

“I will.  I am grateful.  If it takes me the rest of my life I’ll work this land to repay your kindness.”

“It shouldn’t take that long.  Be well.”

Theresa began walking down the road, the next stop was what would be the school house.

It was still being cleaned up and renovated but soon it would be put to work.

Theresa almost skipped over to a pair of orphans, one boy and one girl.  At an age where they were barely adults instead of teenagers really.  They had come with them from Galatea and they were giggling and talking.

As she drew closer she could sense it.  The love they had for each other, not just in this life but in past lives.

Before they even fully registered they were no longer alone Theresa grabbed the girl’s right arm.  With a nod the boy seemed to understand as they clasped each other’s right arm just below the wrist.

“Do you consent?”

“Yes.”  They both said in unison.

“Then swear it.”

“We swear to love and cherish each other, in sickness and health.  For richer or poorer.  For the rest of our lives.”

“Then by the old ways I pronounce you bonded.”  Theresa took a ribbon from her hair and tied it around their wrists.  “That is to remain, to symbolize your bond, until you consummate your marriage.”

The orphans looked at each other and blushed before they kissed.

Theresa skipped away knowing their little colony would be one larger in the not too distant future.

She smiled as she went back to her room to find another ribbon to put in her hair.

“You’re not just regaining strength, you’re also remembering.”  Mike said from outside her room.

“I am.  Everything is coming along nicely.”

“So it is.”

“Yet there is more work to be done.”

“There always will be.”

“Yes.  So there will be.  We’ll see it through.”

**5**

Somewhere in the former Hegemony, 2825…

It could be a revolution in materials science.  Gordon Hoffman looked at the test data.

"Huh….that's funny."  He joked.

His girlfriend, Stephanie, was also his top assistant.  "Very funny Gordo." Steph said, "The thermal conductivity looks really good but we're going to need confirmation, aren't we?"

"You're more of a skeptic than my wife."

"I'm sleeping with you, your wife is back on Atreus with her other lovers.  I think 'skeptical' is probably an understatement."  She had given up on pressing him for the divorce-with the destruction wrought by the current Succession War, funding for core sciences was nonexistent if they didn't have an immediate military application, and Dr. Hoffman's estranged wife might be using him as a social beard to cover a string of lovers, but the woman had money and was willing to fund their research.

"We need to do this on a larger scale." Gordon said.

"That's going to be tough, Doctor." she said, "Larger scale means needing more funding, your wife's fine with letting us work this in what amounts to a glorified garage, but the real money's tied up, and going bigger scale means needing more of it."

"There's the military." He surrendered.

"Yeah, there is, and this has definite military potential-an alloy that can deform to a pre-programmed conformation like Myomer, but with the durability under heat loads of ferric alloys definitely has military applications.  Especially with the superior thermal endurance and mechanical resonance endurance…but we were trying to avoid getting dragged into all this war."

"We need more funding to test it, Steph." He said.

She sighed, agreeing with him.  "So…how?"

"I'll write up a short paper, something that teases what we've got without giving the whole thing away, and see who bites?" He offered.

Steph nodded, "Yeah…I guess.  Send a few minor derivatives out to the major journals?"

He nodded.  "We can also maybe send out some of the other work." He suggested.

"See if anyone's got the funds or time to re-check my work?" she asked, "I'm still a graduate student, Gordon.  The big journals won't look at materials chemistry work from a master's degree who's failed to get her Ph.D. four times, you've got the doctorate, they'll maybe publish your work..."

"Steph, you only missed out because they bombed the university!"

"Yes, they bombed the university...I'm a nobody, you still have a reputation."

"You want me to what?"

"Slap your name on the best choices and publish while you still have a reputation." she urged.

"That's…unethical…"


"You're sleeping with your grad student while your wife is diddling socialites behind the backs of their husbands." she reminded him, "Some ethics are so far we can't see them on a really clear night with a good telescope at this point.  Publish or Perish, isn't that the mantra? You've got material, let's publish."

She didn't know this would be a lethal mistake…

To Be Continued

[monbvol]

Chapter 7: Science With Steph

She was still alive…somehow.  The laboratory was a crater, smoking and burning.  This wasn't because of the bombs-those had fallen after she escaped.

'Escape' might be exaggerating.  'Hiding while someone murdered everyone you cared about' is closer to the truth.

Stephanie felt lost, horrified and alone.  The attackers had killed everyone, they'd lined them up in the cafeteria, had taken a head-count…and then killed everyone.

The explosion was evidence removal, and she felt worse every time she re-lived it when her eyes closed.

Gordon had insisted it was everyone, in there, even under torture while his work was looted and dismantled.

Even while her work was looted and dismantled.

She'd been unable to act, unable to get there, watching from afar through a p-mail connection they'd somehow missed.

Hundreds of kilometers from the site, it was a smoking crater by the time she'd gotten to it.

But she'd seen the surveillance from the lab, and in her dreams, she was there, every time.

In what remained in the outskirts of the lab complex, she'd found more surveillance records.

They'd killed the ****** housekeeping staff.

And off the newsnets, she found that Gordon's wife had suffered an 'accident'.

Cut off, everything gone…and Steph didn't know why.

But they'd ****** up on one of the records.  She didn't know why but she knew who.

It wasn't Capellans, and they were too well organized and coordinated to be mercs or basic pirates.

They'd gone after the research before the bodies were cold, and they'd taken the files with all their hard work, before burning the site.

But they missed her, and she could maybe…

There was no starting over.

The question of why only burned in her mind for a moment.  It didn’t take take her long to figure out why.  Why this lab, why such extreme measures.  Now the questions in her mind were who and how.

I want to make them hurt..

It burned in her soul.  'Why' isn't difficult, they'd heard of colleagues having 'accidents', work that flickered into view, then vanished into obscurity…

Someone is killing scientists who make progress.  She felt a surge of yet more rage.

It was all that was keeping her going.  She’d lost track of time, growing weak.

"Then, I will make it cost them.  Their experiment will have a mind of its own.".  She declared it to the stars and empty skies over the former industrial park. It felt like an oath, a benediction, a declaration of…

"You have been heard.  What can you pay?"  The figure was blurry in her vision, backlit in gold.

"Everything I have."  Steph answered weakly.

"Then, Drink."  The figure came into focus as the sweet but clearly alcoholic liquid washed down her throat.

“An angel?”

“Perhaps long ago, now I am something else.”

“Who are you?”

“I am called Theresa.”

“What now?”

“Come.  We will take you someplace safe, while we do we will discuss justice.”

Steph found herself buoyed up, her strength back, enough to stand and to start walking.

“Do you know who did this?”  Steph asked.

“The pawns at least.  Their King or queen, we are less certain.”

“It’ll do for now.”

**2**

"...who's the new girl?" Lara asked.

"Not sure, Theresa had Sheri take her on a personal trip, and when they came back, it was with the chick Mike's currently teaching to drive a battlemech."  Styles leaned back in her seat and put the reader back on the table.  "Special recruit, I guess, someone with something special or she wouldn't be getting personal attention from those two."

“Well soon as she’s done for the day I’m going to do the simple thing, ask her myself.”  Lara decided.

“Aw.  We could get a much more interesting betting pool going if you don’t.”  Styles complained.

"She might not answer." Nixon joined them at the table with a tray of hot food.  "You're talking about New Girl, right?"

"You know something."  Lara raised an eyebrow.

"Not my story to tell." Nixon said,  "But I'll tell you this;  She's a lot newer than you think-that kid grew up in a world where the Star League is a subject for history classes…and she was born in that world."

Lara looked at Styles, then Nixon.  “******…”

“Yeah, freaky as hell isn’t it?”  Styles nodded.

'I don't feel that old." Lara complained.

"You don't look it either.  None of us do.  The New Girl was born after we took out Amaris. She had time to earn a Master's Degree."

“Yeah.  We’re something different now.  Not sure what but we’re different.”  Lara nodded.

"Styles, you still look twenty-five." Nixon said, "do the math, it's 2825 out there.  You enlisted in '66."

“And it’s freaky but I also love it.”  Styles nodded.

Lara looked thoughtful, "You know, that kid could be any one of our Grandkids."

“Not mine.  I’ve never been pregnant.  Too messy.”  Styles stuck her tongue out.

"Yeah, but Nixon here, he wasn't exactly a monk or a priest, I doubt Mike's been celibate all this time either, and Johnny's kind of a womanizer even now.  Maybe that's why she's here-someone's descendant?"

“Maybe.  Or her blood goes back to something older.  Or someone.”  Lara nodded.

“Oh come on Lara, we know you were alone on New Earth for a while.  You can admit it.  You finally let loose.”  Styles teased.

"Not that loose!!" Lara laughed, "I'd know if I spent nine months in that condition."

"She's Nick Bakeright's granddaughter." Johnny sat down at the table, "You're talking about the new kid, right? I think you might've looked up her file, seeing as we've got the file, Lara."

"Nick…Bakeright..that was Elbar, wasn't it?  One of the Blackhearts with the nine-zero?"

"NOT Elbar, Demolitions guy, I think you slept with him, Styles."  Lara said girmly, "He was with the Hobos for about six weeks before an Amaris funny greased him in New York.  He had a wife and kids and I gave you endless shit for schtupping him."

“Bakeright…  Bakeright…  Oh yeah.  He was good at scratching that itch.”  Styles nodded.

"Yeah, wife, two kids, you were the side-piece and you set it up that way." Lara scowled, "Then he gets his cockpit creamed  by two gauss rifle shots."

“It’s better that way.  Less mess.”

“Damn Styles.  I guess you really are only interested in scratching that itch and nothing more.”  Morgan came in with a bowl full of oatmeal.

“Well yeah.  I mean I’m jealous, Eckhard.  You don’t even have to worry about that.  I still have to worry about the slim chance that despite precautions, I can still get pregnant.”  Styles nodded.

Eckhardt stuck her tongue out, and slid an inch or so closer to Nixon.

“We’re in front of the others.”  Nixon said.

“So.”  Eckhardt smiled.

He rolled his eyes ruefully, and wrapped an arm around her waist, "So, might as well rub it in." and gave her a kiss.

“Good man.”  Eckhardt smiled.

“I’m bored enough to wonder how far we can push their PDAs.”  Styles giggled.

"You can stop being bored then." Mike walked in, there were faint traces of soot on his jumpsuit.

"Meaning?"

"There's a job, finish eating, we'll go over it in the wardroom."  MIke told them.  "You've got an hour."

Eckhardt kissed Nixon on the cheek then dug into her bowl of oatmeal.

**3**

"...site, the objectives are the security barracks here, just north of the Hyperpulse generator."  on the wall of the wardroom, was a familiar…

"We're attacking a Communications Ministry Site?"

"Yes." Mike stated, "Our targets aren't the technicians, they're a group of enhanced security personnel, we go in, we kill them, take back what they took, and leave."

"How do we know what to take?"

"I know that one." The New Girl said.  "After all, they murdered forty people and took it from me."

“Okay, so how are we playing this one?”  Johnny asked.

"Yarr."  Mike said, holding one hand over his left eye.  "We're playing pirate this time.  Open field attack, shock-and-awe."

"We've got…what, seven 'mechs?"  Styles asked.

"Eight, but who's counting-they've got 'mechs too, Mike."  Lara added.

"We have an advantage...Steph?"

She got up, "I've made some modifications to your weapons systems, we'll do some familiarization before the drop, but you'll be…interested...and they aren't going to be ready for it."

“We’ll also need a support team.  If we’re going to be liberating cargo, we’ll need people to help strap it up and get it moving.”  Lara added.

“We do have a few people who have the qualifications.”  Eckhardt looked out at the colony site.

"Uhm…what kind of mods?"  Nixon asked.

"You know, improvements."  Steph said, "Minimum range is not a problem you have to worry about, and longer ranges are no longer out of reach…in some cases."

“What are we talking here?  ER weapons?”  Nixon continued.

"The extended range models they had in the Star League were a start.  Not the finish, I can't get TOO much additional range, but the targeting and arming systems, and tightening the focus on some energy weapons isn't exactly brain surgery once you understand the principles."  Steph explained, "As for arming distances on autocannon shells, well…those aren't going to be an issue either, and missile munitions are getting upgrades in the workshops, so no fear there, either."

“Now someone is speaking my language.”  Styles sat at attention.

"That's not hot-loading, is it?"  Nixon probed.

"No, but it could be mistaken for it by an outside observer.  The minimum distance arming circuit was an add-on, I just refined the seeker assemblies to make it irrelevant.  As for the autocannons?  Those took some minor machining work, but they work fine now."

“New girl’s drinks are on me.”  Styles proclaimed.

"Watch your shots, while we can go back to using SLDF standard ammunition, we don't have full-on factories for this newer stuff, and the quantities are limited." Mike asserted, "it's for an advantage, so let's not leave things for others to find, hey?"

“Roger that boss.”  Lara nodded.


Scenario: HPG Assault!!

Attacking Force: Mike's Murderhobos
THG-10MH Thug Mike G (1/2)
WVR-6MH Wolverine Diedre Styles(2/3)
ON-1MH Orion Carl Nixon(2/3)
GRF-1MH Griffin Morgan Eckhardt(2/3)
GRF-1MH Griffin Johnny Wangker(2/3)
GRF-1MH Griffin Cham Vien(2/3)
ARC-2MH Archer Lara Striene(2/3)
TDR-5MH Thunderbolt Stephanie Bakeright(4/5)


Defending Force: 1 Company of "Mercenaries" (Comstar pre-Comguards).

WVR-6R Wolverine (2/3)
WVE-5N Wyvern (¾)
SHD-2H Shadow Hawk (¾)
SHD-2H Shadow Hawk (¾)

WHM-6R Warhammer (2/3)
CRB-27 Crab (¾)
CRB-27 Crab (¾)
CRB-27 Crab (¾)

WTH-1 Whitworth (2/3)
WTH-1 Whitworth (¾)
WTH-1 Whitworth (¾)
WTH-1 Whitworth (¾)

Objective; destroy the guard force, steal warehoused equipment.

Special conditions: Mike's Murderhobos have a technical advantage, disregard minimum range penalties on PPC, Autocannon, and LRM weapons in the hands of the Murderhobos.  Autocannons (class 5) fire double-rate per the Ultra Autocannon rules and disregard minimum ranges.


Aftermath; Comstar's internal investigation pointed to simple random violence of the succession war, and a number of bounties were issued for Bandit, Pirate, and unregistered mercenaries in the region when ROM confirmed that it wasn't an action by the nearest Great Houses.

Comstar sites gained heavier protection as a direct outcome.

Map selection: Place the HPG complex on an urban mapsheet, with rolling terrain open maps on the adjoining faces.  Conditions will be low light/full darkness (see 'Night Operations', 'Weather')  conditions should be rainy conditions.

[Co-Author]Everything anyone should need to complete the above scenario in MegaMek.  Since I don’t know how to actually script MekHQ scenarios to utilize a specific map and a scripted enemy force and I can’t seem to find an option for rolling maps you’ll probably just want to use the savegame file and load that in MegaMek and use the custom designs.  If I’ve done it right all you need to do is unzip, copy/paste this into your MekHQ/MegaMek directory, and say replace if prompted.  If you don’t get that prompt something has gone wrong.[/Co-Author]

**4**

Steph felt herself relax.  The last defending mech was down.  She worked the controls of her mech and dropped the arm of the Whitworth she had just used moments ago to bludgeon its former owner into submission.

Styles stood her Wolverine over the warehouse where the research was located.  It wasn’t long before the flatbed truck rolled up.

They quickly used their ‘mechs to move the larger containers to the truck.  The volunteers strapped them into place and grabbed the smaller items too delicate for mech hand actuators and secured those too.

To help sell the illusion that they were pirates they filled the last few bits of space on the flatbed truck with whatever else looked like it had been stolen from someone else.

“Clock’s ticking.”  Mike warned.

“Last container secured.  We’re good to go.”  Lara confirmed.

"Job isn't finished." Vien said, “Feel it?"

It was a reminder of why they were here in the first place.  Gotta get them all.

"Which ones are we missing?"  This needed answers.

Johnny dismounted and went with Steph into the damaged offices, pistol and submachine-gun work, and more to the point, slicing and data acquisition work.

Confirm the targets.  Confirm the kills, locate any targets that weren't on-site.

They still managed to get away from the site before forces could arrive to investigate and react.

**5**

"This is bigger than one raid," Johnny announced as they docked with their jumpship.  "It's bigger than one raid,  or one local command."

"What are we actually looking at?" Mike asked.  Steph was with them in the wardroom.

"It's a Policy, Mike," Johnny said.  "They're hitting scientists, engineers, libraries, labs… they're dismantling civilization."

"Why?" Steph asked.  "Why would they be doing that??"

Johnny brought up the documents they'd taken from the HPG compound's database.

"Because they think it'll end the cycle of war faster," he said.  "By crippling recovery, and limiting tech, they think they can exhaust the House Lords faster, and save lives…or at least, that's what these internal documents marked 'Regular Operations Maintenance' are suggesting."

"That's… illogical."

"No, it's logical," Nixon said.  "From a certain point of view.  No arms limitation treaty has ever stopped a war.  But it's hard to wage a technological war if… if you don't have the gear.  And Lords… they're like anyone else who's at least taken a basic course in logistics-if you can't arm your troops,and you can't equip them, and you can't recover from losses…  You avoid fighting until you can."

"So… what do we do, Steph?  You're not just a member, you're a Client," Mike asked.

Steph frowned.  "Did you get the identity of the guys who hit my lab, specifically?"

"Yeah… and the guy who gave them their orders TO hit the lab.  A check on the planetary net showed the Adept who passed the order down went into a coffee shop's bathroom in town, and ate his sidearm.  The hitters were at the site, we got most of them-except for the suicides."

"We can't complete the promise if they're already dead," Theresa observed.

"And the people in charge of them are out of reach… for now, at least," Steph realized.  "Well, I don't want to be murdered after I surface again… and I need a job.  So, can I stay?"

"I think that would be for the best," Theresa agreed.  “There are many people who will need our help, and in the end I will need the help of many more people before I can exact my own justice.”

"We'll have to repair and prepare," Mike said.  "We also need more intel, and do not need to be noticed by the Communications Ministry… at least, not as 'ourselves'."

“Time is our ally in this.  We can afford to be patient.  They will eventually forget or dismiss us as tall tales,” Theresa added.

The others thought about it, and nodded agreement.

To Be Continued

[monbvol]

Chapter 8:Cheating Cheaters

2891, Solaris…


Gerald Rothstein brought his 'mech up to a trot as it left the hangars.  Media drones circled like eager carrion birds.  "Don't scratch the ride, Rothstein.  The boss is giving you a chance, so don't ****** it up."

Gerald knew better.  The 'mechwarrior who owns this 'mech, is too hung over and too old.  He's filling in for the boss, using the boss's name, and the Boss's ride.

The arena wasn’t one of the big name ones for this fight.  In reality it was a bombed out former ground car parking area that was close enough to an industrial area that stray shots devastated it.  The Leaguer’s “The Factory” was practically next door, but they weren't allowed in there in no uncertain terms.  There was practically no cover, and the ground was more gravel and rubble than ferrocrete.

It's late in the season, and they need at least a draw to keep the boss in the Semi-finals.  To keep the sponsors, and the pay.

A few bribes still needed to be paid out to keep the Gaming Commission officials from crying foul for the substitution, and ruining the betting odds.

His first opponent showed up on the tracker.  Jerry ambled left, feeling the response in Gungnir's bodgy hip.  The old Black Knight was a pieced-together salvage job.  It’d been in the old man's family since the Star League's fall, and had seen better days.

The other guys weren't in much better shape.  Though their Warhammer was, at least, in better condition.

The counter on his display showed them reaching the arena floor right about the same time he would.  Remember, you're being Juan Carlos today, he always salutes the crowd… Jerry did a pivot of his 'mech's upper body and raised the arms in the traditional salute before assuming his starting position.

Three…
Two…
One…

And the fight was on.

Particle beams lashed out from the Whammy, and Jerry did a pirouette and dodge maneuver he'd been practicing as a structures test when he worked on the 'mech's actuators.

Synthetic lightning carved into the packed gravel and sand, as he dashed laterally to bring his main weapon to bear on the Whammy.

The other guy rewarded him by stepping up to a jog, and revealing his leg.  Gerald lashed it with his PPC, conserving his other heavy weapons until the Warhammer got closer.

Their shots went wide.  His carved a furrow in the Warhammer's left leg, exploiting that design's weaker leg armor.

Heat levels bounced, as their return fire caught him across his right torso.

No critical system alarms sounded.

The Warhammer seemed to hesitate for a moment.  As if the pilot was trying to decide to keep the range open where they had a slight advantage, or get in closer where the secondary weapons of the Warhammer could make themselves felt.

Gerald didn't hesitate, he stepped inward, bringing his large lasers into the fight, his shots slashed downward, crossing the knee actuator and foot actuator of the Warhammer, while his PPC added synthetic lightning, all to that left leg.

The Whammy went down, and Gerald felt relief-he'd managed one of Juan Carlos's special moves, crippling the other machine without risking the pilot.

And that's when something hit his rear armor, alarms blared, then silenced, as something else hit the same place.

He saw the chest of Gungnir bulge outward, as the fusion engine tore loose and released sublimating plasma as it tumbled free.

His ejection handle worked, and he was hurtling away from the 'mech, with machine-gun tracers passing by him as his ejection seat tumbled.

The bout was supposed to be one-on-one, but the heavy form of a tracked combat vehicle said it wasn't.  Oh ******, I'm dead.

But then a small form of salvation.  The media drones, broadcasting the fight were swirling around.  Cheating was one thing but outright murder during a broadcast?

His seat's retros fired, and he found himself descending…

A tracer round hit the seat, and he tumbled out of control, as the drones…flew away?

The sensation of pavement striking the back of his ejection seat brought darkness.

**2**

"...waking up."  Gerald opened his eyes.  He was in a MASH Van.

"You… are not Juan Carlos," an asian man said.  "Very disappointing, that."

"Nein…" Gerald reverted to the Deutsch accent.  "Who're you?"

"Well, we're not the gaming commission, or their employees.  Where is your boss?  Who warned him?"

"Wha?"

"Who warned your boss?  Simple enough question, answer it," the Asian man said.

Gerald didn't know the answer.

Four hours later, he still didn't know, but he knew what it felt like to be tortured for information he didn't have, and that wasn't current.

And he still didn't know who these men were, only that they really wanted Juan Carlos, and whoever warned the man about today.

"Chu-Sa, this boy knows nothing," the interrogator's torturer said.

"Well, dispose of him discreetly.  He is neither the deserter, nor does he know where the deserter has gone."

By this point, Gerald was little more than a dishrag wrung out in a wood-chipper, as big men with grim faces wrapped his legs and arms with rigging tape and put him in the boot of a large sedan.

They drove for several hours, it felt like, until the car stopped and he was lifted out of it, dragged-carried across arid scrub desert dirt, to be dropped into…a septic tank.

The last thing he saw was the cover being closed.  Entombed, with no understanding of how, or why he’d been left to die like this.

It wasn't fair.  It wasn't right.  He struggled against his bindings with all his remaining might.

The cover lifted.  "Hey, You alive in there?"  More strangers.

"Ja!! Yes!!" he shouted.  Don't let me die in here!!

"I'll get you out of there in a jiffy pal."  Pal? Who speaks like that?

The man who came down into the septic tank was almost so nondescript as to be forgettable even up close.

"They did a number on you man…hang on."  The buzz of a vibroblade and the bindings were cut. 

"Thank you…I…I don't know-"

"Wait till we're upstairs.  Hey, Nixon!  Rope ladder and a tackle, I think they cut this guy's hamstrings!"

He was lifted out in a rope sling.

"You're soft, Mike.  Why this guy?"

"Our targets thought he was worth burying in the desert," 'Mike' said.  "Seems like a good idea not to let them have what they want."

"Fair."

"Targets?"  Gerald asked.

"Yeah, a Drac Noble's family.  They killed a few folks, the survivors hired us to even the pans… Oh, hi.  I'm Mike, your name?"

“Gerald.”

"Tess, you got the medkit?" Mike asked.

"Right here, Mike."  Their medic was beautiful, the most beautiful woman Gerald had ever seen.

"You're an angel…" he breathed.

"Sometimes," she said agreeably, as she went to work on his savaged limbs.  "Yeah, we can fix this…  Mike, could you be a dear and fetch me some extra light please?"

"He looks pretty bad…" Mike commented as he went to their ground car and brought back a construction light.

"Not that bad," she said.  Gerald felt tingling in his savaged legs and arms.  "Really, not that bad…"

"What can I do to thank you?" Gerald asked.  "I don't have a lot, I was just an assistant to the senior tech on Gungnir..."

"Gungnir?"

"A classic Black Knight, owned by my… employer, Juan Carlos," he told them.  "I don't have a lot-"

"What do you have?" Mike asked.  "In your pocket, I mean?  I'm gonna guess your account's probably frozen…"

Gerald reached into the pocket of his shorts, and found his wallet, there were a few loose M-Bills… and a ten C-bill voucher.

"That's enough," Mike said.  "How would you like to get some payback on the bastards that did this?"

"I would!"

"This is enough for that, too," Mike said.  "Isn't it, Tess?"

"Service is rendered, payment made," Tess said in a strange tone.

"They're out to kill your employer…"

"Wrong, they already did it," Nixon, the other man in the trio, said, holding up a portable comm device with Solaris News on the main window.

"I'm out of a job…" Gerald lamented.

"You're a Tech, you also a pilot?" Mike asked.

"Yes."

"I think we can hire you, if you're interested?"

“But I don't have a 'mech."

"THAT, can be dealt with," Mike said.  "Here, stand up…"

"Have a drink," Tess said, offering a copper flask. 

Gerald accepted it, and the taste was powerful, sweet, and alcoholic.  "Mead?"

"Yes," she smiled an adorable smile.  He felt… different.  She was still absolutely beautiful in his eyes, but she was no longer sexy, more like awe inspiring.

"You're fit, come on, we've got a long night ahead of us," she offered.  "After all, Justice must be served."

Gerald followed the trio to their rental vehicle.

How did they find me?  All this open expanse?  It shouldn’t be possible.

But looking at her, like his eyes were open for the first time, at least for real.  He knew.

**3**

"Hey, new guy, Gerald?"  She was petite, sandy haired and looked for all the world like someone's bookish sister.  But Gerald couldn't remember whose.

"Yes?"

"Steph," she said, extending her hand.  "I'm told you're a warrior in need of a ride.  Did Mike explain the deal?"

"Not really."

"Oh, this is going to be fun." She said, beckoning him into the dropship.  "You're still wearing a cooling vest.  You a competitor?"

"I… I was substituting for one…" he felt an urge to tell her the truth.  "My warrior was unfit, it was a bout for rankings…"

"Oh!  Huh… well, we're going to need to kit you up. The boss found a bunch of jobs here on Solaris, so we're going to be here a bit.  And it just happens that having a competitor will help us with the jobs…so, let's get you kitted first.  You were driving that Black Knight that tore up Hokada's Warhammer, right?"

"Yes."

"So, you're okay in a heavy?  Decent, anyway?"

"Um, I suppose… so?  I've only had Juan Carlos's teachings…  no formal training."

"Mike and Johnny will fix that one, let's see…" she led him between 'mech cubicles.  "Here we go… now a Knight doesn't have jump-jets, and a Grasshopper does.  But it's a tough ride.  You okay with that?  Not as much firepower but…"

"I couldn't afford this for a lifetime!"

"Yeah, well, the boss wants you kitted proper.  Can you handle it?"

"I can try!"

"Good enough.  Let's get you logged into it with your own personal codes, then we'll see about…upgrades."

“I hate to ask but… I doubt I can go back to my apartment.”

"Huh… talk to the Boss on that one.  He might've sent Lara and Cham to pick up your stuff…if it's still there.  But it's probably worth reminding him."

“For now, I’ll help you out.”  A slightly taller, more athletic looking golden blonde woman walked up to them.  “Hmmm.  Yeah.  You’re my new scratching post.”

"Deedee, I saw him fir-"

"Now, now, Steph.  You know how it works.  But I can share."

Steph rolled her eyes.  "Gerald, this is Styles, and she's senior.  Deirdre, this is Gerald, he's the new guy."

"Replacing YOU as the new guy," Styles reminded her.  "We'll begin the evening with drills, to get you familiar with your ride.  If you do well enough, there will be a reward."

Gerald looked at the two women, and just nodded.

There was, in fact, something… shinier about Styles, some unearthly quality that the other woman also had, but to a far lesser degree.

"Stephanie, fetch Gerald a proper coolant suit.  The booty-shorts and vest are fetching, but we really are going to be doing proper training, and I don’t want him to pass out from the heat too soon."

"Right…"

When she brought back the cooling suit, Gerald felt a stab of recognition.  Star League… lostech?

"Yes," Steph said.  "It is, and yes, it's expensive.  And yes, it's yours… along with this delightful neurohelmet that isn't manufactured anywhere any more… and Styles isn't going to let me watch you put it on, because I'm still too new.  I'll be in the office."

“Don’t worry.  I’m feeling generous, so I might let you watch him take it off.  I, however, am not too new," Styles said.  "So strip.  Let me see what I'm working with."

Strangely, it wasn't humiliating.  Instead, it felt almost erotic.

"Yep, Tess does know how to pick 'em."

**4**

Mike had them assembled in the lounge area of the Dropship Summer’s Wrath.

It was an old Lion Class dropship that they saved from the scrapyards before Exodus, but it served their needs.

“Our target.  Ryukan Kirishima.  She’s the widow of the previous ruler of the planet Midway in the Draconis Combine, and uses the traditional naming structure of ancient Japan, where the family name comes before the given name.  We have information she’s tied to the Yakuza, and has developed an interest in Solaris as a staging point where she can move illicit goods through Solaris to the Combine, and illicit goods from the Combine to Lyran and Marik space,” Mike briefed as a holoimage of a middle aged but still attractive asian woman projected on the wall.

“From what we can gather, her husband was a weak and ineffectual ruler and she was the real power behind the throne before his convenient death.  In fact, her two brothers-in-law and every member of the Ryukan family that had a reasonable claim to become the new ruler with the death of her husband seemed to suffer quite convenient deaths as well,” Mike continued.

“So how does Juan Carlos fit into all of this?” Gerald asked.

“We believe he was supposed to take a dive, and refused.  So one was arranged for him.  The end goal seems to be to have their warrior also keep their standing.  The idea being they could then use the cover of shipping in legitimate supplies for a competitor for their shipping of illicit goods.  But without standing, such large shipments from the Combine or Free Worlds League would draw a lot more attention.”

"So…who hired you?" Gerald asked.

"Anne Weatherwax."

"Who?"

"You don't know her.  Her family isn't prominent.  She paid us for this," Steph explained.

"This is an expensive operation, how rich is she?"

"She had about twenty thousand Comstar Notes, everything she had, really," Styles observed.  "So we took the job.  Kind of like how you had what was in your wallet, and not much else."

"That's insane.  You can't even buy repair parts for-"

"No, not to Anne Weatherwax.  They took her family away from her.  The life she built, children, a husband, everything but twenty thousand C-bills… it was what she could pay, so we took the job.  It's how our particular unit works, Gerald.  Our clients pay us what they can pay, we do the job.  It doesn't matter how big the job is, only that the client paid everything they could pay… kind of like you did."

"But… if that was everything…"

"She's getting Justice," Nixon said from his seat.  "Or revenge.  Depends how you look at things.  She won't get it from Kuritan courts, or the government here on Solaris… but she can get it from us… but there's a price.  Because there is always a price.  We never charge more than a client can pay, but we also never ask for less."

"Besides, you may have noticed we're not exactly scrambling for materiel," Lara (he'd learned her name before the meeting) noted.  "You might say we've got another sponsor, who handles our expenses in exchange for our activities."

Gerald nodded.  His conscious mind was still rejecting it but even so, he knew.  This ‘Tess’ or ‘Theresa’.  She wasn’t human.  She looked human.  But that was clearly a facade. 

“Mein Gott,” Gerald said after a moment.

“It’s true I ask a lot, but I also give a lot in return.  That is the core of what I am.  I am certain of that.”  Theresa walked gracefully into the lounge.  “Indeed, once this mission is done, I’m thinking my Champions have earned a ritual of hedonism, revelry, and celebration of life, the likes of which will take some time to recover from.  One could even call it a party.”

“The sample was fun, the main course should be delicious.”  Styles licked her lips in anticipation, looking at Gerald.

“Mission first, Styles.  Our target is the Golden Dragons Stables.  Duchess Ryukan is meeting with her contacts there at zero seven hundred tomorrow morning, local time.  They only have five operational mechs at the moment.  One of which will be in transit to the Colosseum since they technically ‘won’ their last bout.  We don’t have a solid number for how many of the local Yakuza will be at the meeting, but Duchess Ryukan we know will have six bodyguards.”  Mike resumed the briefing.

“Should be simple enough to frame this as Juan Carlos having more friends than they anticipated and are looking for a little payback,” Nixon nodded.

**5**

The difference between a military operation and a police operation can be explained very simply:  Police are trying to gather evidence and suspects, account for witnesses, or rescue hostages.

This was not that kind of operation.  Intent, method, plan, the strike was to kill an enemy.  There would be no effort to minimize casualties or damage beyond containing it to the grounds held by the Golden Dragon Stables-a thing made necessary more to assure the destruction of the enemy inside it.

"This… is going to be murder?"  Gerald asked.

"Murder's a funny thing, Gerry… Jerry," Steph said.  "See, they already set the terms when they rigged your death, thinking it was your boss-they're already murderers.  They set what Mike would call 'The Rules of Engagement' at 'no rules'."

"So… not murder."

"No, not murder.  Justice.  And maybe a lesson to others about cheating, murder, and assassination and what it brings you… to encourage more thinking in others."

She finished making adjustments on his new ride, a Grasshopper.  "You're not carrying that useless little light missile rack now.  I changed the layout to a four-pack SRM system with some tweaks, they're more accurate and more will hit a target at the medium and long ranges, but you'll want to be conservative with it.  Same with the lasers, but we've also tweaked with the heat curve-you can take more risks, but I'd really prefer it if you played like you couldn't."

"Why?"

"Because this kind of performance hasn't been 'normal' since the Star League's Royal Regiments, and that draws attention.  The kind we don't want."

"From who?"

"Comstar, The Houses…" she shrugged.  "Take your pick.  Leverage your advantages, but don't let everyone see you doing it."

"If I don't?"

"If you don't, you can fix your own ****** gear," she said.  "I give you leverage, but I'm damned if I'll let you abuse it.  I lost everyone who mattered because we let it out that we discovered something.  I won't do that again."

He was confused.  "What do you mean, you mean you found-"

"No, I used to be a scientist… and an engineer," she told him.  "That's why I know so much about the fundamental theory that makes 'mechs run.  And finding out new things cost me everything because I didn't know to keep my ****** mouth shut.  Leverage it where you won't be seen, Jerry, or only if you absolutely have to."  Her hard eyes made more sense to him now, and he felt sympathy for her pain.

"I'll be careful, I promise," he said.

She accepted it, and finished her adjustments.  "Alright, we're going at zero three tonight, means you have a couple hours, get some food and a potty break."


At zero three hundred hours, a group of 'mechs moved through sections of the city that 'mechs aren't supposed to go, and they moved without being seen.

Some of that was ECM, some of it was… well… not ECM.

It might have made an impressive parade, if witnesses didn't have other, more important things to pay attention to, if even the people awakened by the multi-ton footsteps didn't roll over with a thought of someone else's problem.

This even affected the guards at the targeted location.  The arriving 'mechs were simply… not their problem.

By the time their minds overcame the fuzz of fatigue and boredom to realize that maybe there WAS a problem, it was too late.

Portable radio comms were flatlined, the land-lines from the Stable's office and 'mech hangar were cut, followed by the power.

Then the killing really began.

**6**

"...reports this morning, investigators are still close-lipped about last night's incident.  Fire and safety officials are refusing to discuss the death toll, but given what airborne survey and surveillance suggests, the entire complex was gutted by fires and explosions.  Game officials are not releasing information on how this apparent disaster will impact standings in the run to the championship, but…"

Jerry turned off the broadcast.  Nixon handed him a cup of something strong.  "You'll get used to it New Guy.  Trust me, the feeling goes away."

"When?" Jerry asked.

"It takes… it's different for everyone," Nixon told him.  "I think I lost that feeling after Elbar.  I'm pretty sure Mike still feels a twinge when we're being really effective, but then… he's a good man."

"And you?"

"I haven't been a good man in a long time.  The best I can manage is to be… careful.  Not let it out unless there's a damned good reason."

"We didn't leave anyone alive, did we?"

"That was the job," Nixon told him.  "We took the pay, we did the job, we did it completely, got the job done."

'Did we?"

"The Lady running the show was on site with her lover.  It's why we had to go last night-the targets were concentrated, the job could be finished faster."

Jerry drank from the cup and tasted honey-wine, that sickening fermented beverage made from honey and yeast… and his uncertainties and his guilt bled away.

To Be Continued

[Euphonium]

I'm looking forward to seeing where this goes - time is advancing faster than I was expecting.

[Daryk]

Buckle up, then! :D

[monbvol]

Chapter 9: Pickles.

2937, Somewhere near the Lothian League…

"This guy's ****** up," Steph said dully as Theresa and Mike laid out the man they pulled from a ruined industrialmech. 

"Grab the medkit and shut up," Mike told her.  "This guy was coming to get the bastards we were hired to take out, and he was doing it all by himself."

Steph grabbed the medikit and brought it over, as Theresa set to work stabilizing the farmer.  "So… another client?"

"Another client, another recruit?  Something. I had a feeling, so we're going with it," Mike told her.  "Theresa agrees."

"Right then.  I've got to get back to the 'mech bay and finish fixing Nixon's ride.  Those guys actually knew how to shoot."  Steph left the leaders to save-or fail to save-the damaged man on the mess table.

Down in the 'mechbay: "It's still going to be a few hours before the locals get here," Eckhardt observed.  "By then we'll be fit?"

"Don't worry.  We'll be done by then," Styles assured her.  "We've decapitated the headquarters element-such as it is-of these so-called 'mercs', and once Nixon and Jerry finish running down their runners we'll be on our way.  Any thoughts on what your next project is?"

"I'm thinking a Catapult.  We've found a couple that weren't completely dead among the mercs, and we can use an extra LRM boat to supplement Lara," Steph grinned.  "You see the guy they pulled out of that IH Kultivator?"

"Yeah.  I got a feeling too," Eckhardt said.  "Didn't you?  Seeing him taking that thing with Rifles and straight balls?"

"Yeah… I guess I did.  Will he fit in though?"

"You do."

"Thanks, bitch."

Eckhardt laughed.  "There's something… you get the feeling after a while, Stephie.  If you spent more time in the field you'd feel it too.  When we were on the Taurian front, doing the peacekeeping, guys who had nothing left but anger would show up, like the guy with the bosses.  And those guys were a thousand times harder to take down than the semi-pros in proper 'mechs, because they just didn't give up."

**2**

They were clearing orbitals before the Lothian League's defense militia were in sight of the last scene.

"Whoa, I'm not the new guy anymore?" Jerry asked, as a new presence entered the company mess.

"Not hardly," Styles said.

The newest guy's head was…deformed.  "What's your name new guy?"

"b-Bob." 

"Don't tease the new guy, Jerry.  He was in that agromech with the recoilless rifles and the kludged rockets," Nixon said.  "Ballsy and angry."

Bob grunted and sat down in an empty seat.

Sheri herself came in through the connecting airlock, bringing a covered tray, and brought it into the company mess.

"This is for Robert," she deflected Styles with a stare.

"Robert?"

"Yes."  Sheri placed the magnetized platter down without disrupting it, and opened the cover.

"Mmmm…"  the man whose whole vocabulary seemed to be one word, dug into the kibble like a starving hound.

"Why does he get-?"

"Because I like him better than I like you, Jerry," Sheri stated.  "Everyone else's meals are in the hot-boxes, but Robert doesn't have one yet."

"Yet?"  Lara asked.

"Robert is staying," the spacer said.  "Mike said so."

Bob looked up at her.  "Thanks."  And then dug back into his meal.

"What's our next target?" Eckhardt asked when Mike joined them.

"Well, we have another location," Mike said.  "The data stacks in that headquarters Orion indicated a former SLDF firebase.  It's probably their 'headquarters'."

"Firebase, sounds like we're going to be all hands on deck," Eckhardt noted.

"Job's not done, these guys butchered their previous clients and ran, survivors hired us, some of them are still alive."

"Not just them," Bob muttered.

"Oh, yeah, and Bob here.  They burned his town out and killed… everybody," Mike filled in.  "So he's a client and joining up."

"Not in that agromech-"

"No.  Steph?"

"I'll have that Catapult you salvaged ready in two weeks, unless you want me to give 'specials'."

"No time for specials this trip, but after this job," Mike judged.

"Right.  Lara, hook up yours and the Catapult for a field simulator setup, you're going to be drilling Bob in our methods," Mike ordered.

"Alright Boss.  Cadre like we did with the one-seven-one?"

"Well, hopefully with better results.  He's at least knowledgeable enough to run a 'mech at all, unlike Colonel Ngo's people, who weren't."

"Right…so we'll go over the full class while we're on the way."

**3**

‘Lord’ Uther Colsek was enjoying one of his latest prizes.  The raids had been quite successful as of late and had netted him a bottle of fine wine and the woman serving it to him.

She was still being trained but he felt no fear.

“Don’t worry my dear.  I like to look, as you can see I collect beautiful things.  They don’t stay beautiful if I mistreat them too poorly.  Especially early on,” he said with ice.

She meekly bowed as she poured him another glass of wine.

The comm panel next to him chirped.

“Lord Colsek, I apologize for the inter-” the meak voice of a clearly younger man came over the comm panel.

“It better well be serious,” he growled.

“We’re under attack.  Unknown enemy.  Most likely mercenaries sent on a pirate hunting mission.”

“How many?”

“Eight enemy contacts.  Estimate they’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

“All right.  I’m heading down to the command center.  Get the lads to their mechs, we’ll show them we’re not to be messed with.”

**4**

Like any good firebase there was no good way to approach it without being seen from well away.

That was fine with the Murderhobos.

“Defense towers?”  Mike asked.

“Only the two on the north wall are actually functional, but not for much longer,” Lara answered.

“Two Stingers, pair of Wasps, Centurion, Wolverine, Shadow Hawk, Quickdraw, Thunderbolt, Enforcer, Warhammer, and a Zeus,” Nixon counted off the pirate mech company marching out to meet them.

Lara and Bob loosed their LRMs against the two defense turrets leaving them in ruins.

Eckhardt and Cham put their PPCs into the leading Stinger which fell to the ground.

Johnny put his PPC into the face of the Wasp that was trying to close in.

Styles let her Autocannon roar against the last Stinger still standing.

Mike focused his PPCs into the Warhammer.

Steph and Jerry chipped away at the Thunderbolt.

The LRMs from the Zeus and Thunderbolt scattered around the feet of Steph’s Thunderbolt.

PPC fire from the Warhammer was one hit against Mike’s Thug.

Mike grunted as he pulled his PPC triggers again into the Warhammer again, the right leg collapsing at the knee.

The Wasp was trying to close in under the covering fire of the Zeus and Wolverine.

Styles snapped her Autocannon up in an almost illustration of SLDF Gunnery, and ripped a row of craters into the Wolverine's upper torso.

Eckhardt, Cham, and Johnny put their PPCs into the Zeus, the torso erupting in an ammunition explosion as the mech ripped itself apart.

The moment of hilarity, however, was when Jerry dropped out of a jump, grabbed the Wasp by the cockpit assembly, and blew through its torso with his large laser.  Fusion plasma vented and cooled in a shower of vital components.

The Quickdraw tried to jump behind Lara but she was able to shuffle her mech and clapped her mech’s fists right where the cockpit met the torso, cleanly severing it from the rest of the mech.

Long range missiles fell on the wounded Warhammer in steady volley, as Bob, the new guy, walked almost carelessly forward, laying down the steady firehose of small missiles, firecracker detonations covering the maimed heavy 'mech.

The Centurion and Enforcer seemed to look at each other before running.

Which added a moment of further hilarity-as Steph stepped out of the shadow of the building they were running past with an arm extended at head-height, a thirty meter tall bully clotheslining the equally massive Enforcer at head level.

PPCs from Mike’s Thug tore into the back of the Centurion causing it to topple as the gyro exploded and melted down the back of the mech.

Bob plodded forward and medium lasers flickered into the disturbed dusty ground, fleeing men incinerated mid-step.

“I surrender!”  The transmission came from the Shadow Hawk.

Steph shook the wreckage of the Enforcer's cockpit off her arm, and centered a large weapon at optimal range on the SHD.

“No quarter for bandits.”  Johnny, Steph, and Mike practically delivered the shot in synchronicity, removing the durable upper torso of the Shad in a volley of heavy weapons fire. 

Bob's LRM salvo just… hammered the confetti.

The few infantry left were trying to run back into their fortified buildings.

“We’ve got hostages.  If you care about them we’ll talk terms.”

"Have you heard the term 'dead heroes', bandit?" Steph drawled on the PA.  "TO be kind we'll give you three minutes forty seconds to release your hostages, then they become dead heroes.  Three minutes thirty seven, thirty six…"

At one minute, thirty seconds, civilians came stumbling out of the bunker, fleeing their captors.

Steph kept counting down, while the frightened hostages fled between the feet of the Murderhobos.

"Terms!!"

She kept counting.

A few men with uniforms and small arms came out, hands in the air.

She kept counting.

"They haven't figured it out yet?" Mike asked over the unit's channel.

"Obviously not," Styles answered.

Steph's count reached zero.  The charges went off, the building collapsed inward in an implosion that also collapsed the bunker below.

If anyone survived, they were now in for an ugly, long, slow death.

"You know those weren't SLDF trained.  They'd have known to disarm the scuttle charges,"  Nixon observed.

“Training standards really are lax.  But they’re bandits, not professionals,” Lara added.

"True that."  Styles began picking off the surrendering infantrymen, some tried to run, others to beg.

"Like popcorn."  Bob said TWO whole words!

“What should we do with the civilian survivors?”

"Lothian forces should be getting here later today or maybe tomorrow, we'll leave rations and supplies for the civilians and let them deal with it," Mike decided.  "If you're done playing whack-a-mole Styles, we need to get going."

“Yeah.  We got ‘em all.”  Even though Styles said it they all could sense it.

Their job here was done.

**5**

Huntington, Free Worlds League, two months later…

Governor Shasta Ibn Fauzel had been dreaming about her parents when the cold hand clamped her awake.

"Hi," the shadow said.  Then the other hands clamped her arms, and she shouted for her guards.

Who did not make an appearance, but the lights did come on in her bedroom.

"Kinmon's Kolumn is no longer in existence.  Your initiative has been noticed."  The man speaking looked like an accountant, his comrades like a motley crew of mercenaries.  "You sent them.  Officially they’re renegades fleeing as deserters, but you sent them."

"What are you going to do to me?"

He looked at a man with a deformed head.  "Bob?"

"Pickles," the deformed man slurred, holding up a jar, he took a dark green oblong shape from it, took a bite, chewed, swallowed.  Closed the jar.  "They make good pickles here."

'Bob' stepped around the end of the bed, to level with the Governor's pillow.  He raised the jar, and brought it down.

Over and over and over again.  The governor struggled and screamed and burbled as the man smashed her face with a jar of pickles, until the glass broke.

"Sharing is caring."  He used the broken glass to cut her throat before she could suffocate from having her face caved in.

"Now, we're done," Mike said.  "Let's go before the guards wake up."

To Be Continued

[Wrangler]

tag

[monbvol]

[Co-Author] Yeah writing on this one is going slowly.  My job ebbs and flows for how soul crushing it can be and Cannonshop's got his own things going on.  So I'm slowing down posting to once a week.  [/Co-Author]

Chapter 10: Fire Woman

Freezing to death.  It competes with starving to death, but it's less horrible, faster, and you feel warm before you go.

Sarah Lennerts had been hungry for too long, but she still had that piece of humanity inside her, the one that would not eat her children.

She clutched them to her.  They were quiet but she prayed.  Somehow that they were still alive.

The raiders had blown the generator, they'd taken the food-what wasn't burned in the destruction, anyway.

It's cold in midwinter darkness on Winter, especially when you're in one of the outlying mining camps.  The pirates that hit them, didn't care about that.  They'd killed nearly everyone, but Sarah, and her kids.  They left the cold to finish that.

She wished she had the strength to get to one of the ruins of a former generator, there might still be an ember of warmth in there.

Some part of her knew Sandra and James weren't going to wake up…but she couldn't let go of them.

She couldn't let go of her babies.  She couldn't admit to herself they were gone.

I swear we’ll never be cold again.  If it takes everything I have we’ll never be cold again.

Numb fingers tried to ignite the flare… and failed.

But then, there was light, and with it, in the light, came heat as a dropship grounded, only a few kilometers away.

“Just a little longer…  We just need to hold on a little while longer…”  Sarah said weakly.

Time was no longer perceptible to her.

It could have been minute, hours, or even days before she felt warm hands on her.

She felt the warm liquid force itself down her throat.  The sweet alcohol returning sensation to her extremities.

The gorgeous blond helped her sit up.

“My children…”  Sarah would cry if she could, her tear ducts were still frozen.

“I’m sorry.  I couldn’t save them.”  The woman said.

Sarah nodded as she finally let herself realize the truth.  She still couldn’t let go but she knew finally that her children were dead.

“Come.  We’ll bury them.”

“No, cremation.  They shouldn’t be in the cold ground.”

The woman nodded.

“Who are you?”

“They call me Theresa.”

“Thank you.  I owe you my life.  If it takes me everything I have I’ll make them pay.  Even if it takes me a thousand lifetimes.  I’ll make them pay and anyone who thinks preying on the weak is acceptable.”

“I have a better idea for your children.”  Theresa smiled sadly.  “We’ll commit them to the star.  They’ll be warm for millenia.”

A couple men came over from the snowcat.

“Put the children in the back.  Then let’s get our new friend back to the Dropship.”  Theresa told them.

**2**

Sarah held the warm mug in her hands.

The contents were actually a warm beef broth.  The savory flavor and the heat of the liquid helped remind her she was alive.

But her heart was a block of ice.

I’m going to burn down this corrupt universe one world at a time.  Then I’ll take my punishment so that a new one can grow in its place.

“Feeling better?”  A tall dark haired woman sat down next to Sarah.

“Starting to wonder if I’ll ever get this feeling of cold out of the core of my body.”  Sarah answered.

“Take your time.  You have plenty of it now.  My name is Morgan Eckhardt.”

“So you drew the short straw.”  Sarah could sense there was something different about the woman sitting next to her.

“Sort of.  We do take turns easing new people into the unit.”

“You’re kind of presumptuous.  Or press ganging me.”

“Not really.  We came because we heard your plea.  Everything you have to make the bandits that raided your settlement pay.  Since we can’t get them all on our own we’re offering you a spot.  You can decline and we’ll let you make your own way from the capital.  But if you stay you’ll find we have a hell of a benefit package that no one else can match and we are like minded people.”

“You are, aren't you?”  Sarah could sense it.  “You’re punishing those who break their oaths and prey on the weak.”

“We are.”

“I need to make them burn.  Incinerate the stain of their sins.  Whatever it takes.  However long I need to work for you.  Even my body.  I can pay that too.”

“We’ll never force you into doing that but you’ll find we don’t quite have normal morals when it comes to that.  So if a mission requires one of us to put on something sexy and bump uglies we’ll call for a volunteer.”

“You mean…”

“Yeah, that’s largely up to you.  If you want to scratch an itch or go for something more serious you’re free to do so.  See those two blonds over there?  The slightly taller one is Diedre Styles and the other is Stephanie Bakeright.  She prefers being called Steph though.  They both have a thing for him.  That’s Gerald Rothstien.  Everyone calls him Jerry though.” Morgan pointed out three figures moving about the mechbay. “But both of them have had kids with other men in the unit and with him.  Our parties can get like that when there’s a lull in punishment that needs to be handed out.”

“Maybe I would have cared about that before, but I can live with that sort of arrangement.”

“Then I’d say it’s time for you to start learning how to pilot a mech.  Since you talk so much about burning things up I think we’ll set you up with a Firestarter we recovered from our last trip to Star’s End.”

**3**

Theresa was in the ship’s galley cooking again.  It was always something of a treat whenever she cooked for her champions.  The meal was always unusual, and always made from scratch, but never failed to be satisfying or tasty.

The smell though sometimes could be quite foul.

“Making an extra effort today?” Mike said from the hatchway.

“Poor Sarah.  She had to watch her children freeze to death,” Theresa said with true lament.

“You’ve always adored children.”

“Yes.  So I’m making something special for our new friend.  She deserves it.”

“Well you might want to turn up the exhaust fans.  We might know what your cooking tastes like but right now the smell could be a bit off putting to someone less familiar.”

Theresa stuck her tongue out at Mike in mockery as she adjusted the exhaust fans.

Mike smiled, bowed, then left.

Sarah poked her head into the galley next.

“I just wanted to thank you.”  Sarah said.

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re an odd group.  You seem to have an odd sense of justice and charity.”

“Yes and when we meet people like you, who desire to bring justice to an unjust universe, we gladly extend the offer of joining our ranks.”

“So not really charity.”

“No.  Equitable exchange.  You wish to see justice done, you must be part of it.”

“Somehow I expect a speech about how there is a difference between revenge and justice.”

“There is.  But not one that most people think.  Revenge is when the punishment exceeds the crime.  The crimes we punish are the sort where justice is often best served by the criminal’s death.  And sometimes that means we must make martyrs out of the innocent as the guilty often use them as their shield.  I only ask that it never be needless when they are sacrificed and as such if there is a way to spare them or at least reduce how many need to be sacrificed to do so.  Especially children.”

“Yeah.  Not kids.  Not if we can help it,” Sarah nodded.

“Come.  It is now meal time.  If you could bring the bread that would be lovely,” Theresa smiled.

**4**

Johnny sat on the bridge with their ship's Captain.  "You're sure?"

Sheri nodded.  "Completely…no, but there were witnesses to the raid, and the jumpship they used wasn't commercial flagged."

"Whose was it?"

"LCAF.  Same for the dropships.  The recordings from the settlement shows the raiders took pains to make sure their 'mechs were a motley, but the raid itself was carried in on Commonwealth Transport Command's ships and equipment.  The wildcatters I talked to from Sithers-Deen said the radio commo traffic was using LCAF coding too.  This was a false flag, or the Lyrans have lost track of a battalion of regulars with organic transport.  Listen for yourself?"

He nodded, and she handed over a headphone stack, playing the recordings the local belters picked up.

"You showed Mike yet?"

"I will, as soon as you can parse the encoded signals on the secondary bands, but it looks for all the world like the clients we service are going to have to be Commonwealth troops running public relations massacres."

He listened to the codes, and began to transcribe.

"It's military." he said.  "They think…They think they're hitting a bandit stronghold.  That's what their orders said."

"We need to see those orders, find out who issued them, and why." Sheri said grimly.

'Might be useful to know where their transport's home-port is."

"Oh, that's easy.  Mainstreet. It's in the ident codes the belters recorded."

"I'll take this to Mike, he'll want it for planning purposes."

"Should I start plotting a route to Mainstreet then?"

"I imagine so, Captain.  You coming to dinner, meet the new girl?"

She shook her head.  "No, not today…not tonight, anyway."

"You don't talk to anyone but me anymore, Sheri. You spend all of your time with the ship-"

She flinched.

He pressed, "you've spent the last twenty years talking to almost nobody else, just me, Tess, and Mike-and those two not terribly often.  That's not healthy, it's not good for you."

"I talked to the belters." she said defensively.

"At a distance, over radio.  I'm talking about in-person, with people.  Come on…please?"

"I'm…I'm not presentable." she said defensively, "I can't be seen like this."

"I'll help you clean up." he offered earnestly.

He helped her disconnect the tangle of wires woven into her hair, and the connectors under it, unstrap and disconnect the various other connections.

"Only tonight." she said, "Don't get ideas."

"I won't get ideas…" he said.

Part of her, watched the rest of her as Johnny helped her body out of the command station and to the refresher for a scrub down and change of clothes.

**5**

The rest looked so young...and then, "Johnny, you're late." Mike said, then he stopped, and stared.

Sarah at first didn't understand the significance.  The woman he helped through the hatch into the wardroom was old.  Wizened face, hair spilled hard silver-gray, compared to the rest of the Murderhobos, this woman was an ancient in a skinsuit.

"Sheri…"

"Heya." the old woman said, "Someone said dinner was on?"

"Is everything alright? You usually don't come down into the dropship…" Jerry asked.

"I was…encouraged to socialize.  Ship's fine, better than fine, really.  We're ready to go whenever you are."

"I take it your conversation with the local belters was productive then?" Mike was back to his equilibrium after Sheri let Johnny help her into a seat.

"Yes.  We've got positive ident on the ship that brought the raiders, and where it may be home-ported." Sheri commented, "You're not going to like the answer."

"What's the answer?"

"It's House military." She said, "At least the jumpship and both dropships it brought are.  Home-port's Mainstreet."

“So either somebody is really playing a sick game or completely off the reservation.”  Lara observed.

“What makes you say that?”  Sarah asked.

“Winter is part of the Commonwealth, it may be on the ass end of the Commonwealth but it’s still part.  It’s not in revolt as far as we know.  So what legit reason do they have to attack a civilian outpost?”  Lara answered.

“So to Mainstreet.  It’s where we’ll find answers.”

Theresa hummed as she served and passed out dishes to the Murderhobos.

"Did you find anything visiting the Arcology, Johnny?" Step asked.

"They didn't even know the raid happened."  Johnny said, "The early warning systems were stripped about twenty years ago, and their civil defense staff is…well, they're trying, but they didn't see it, and I sliced their computers, so they really didn't see it."

“Further evidence it wasn’t a punitive raid, doesn’t really accomplish much if people don’t know it even happened.”

Sheri accepted a glass from Tess, "What was your settlement…what work was done there?" she asked in an interested tone.
"We were setting up a new settlement, the camp was supposed to expand to build a new arcology for Lockheed, a subassembly plant." Sarah said, "The plan was a ten-year plan, our group were there to cut the foundations into the bedrock, start the construction of the utilities points, and grow food for local support in greenhouses.  We only had fifty or so people on the site and we hadn't even finished the final surveys."

"What are you thinking?" Nixon asked.

"Business.  There's no military or civil reason, and the site wasn't rich in rare technologies yet, so I'm thinking business, and maybe some corrupt officers in the military."  Sheri said, "We saw it often enough with burrows on Ganymede, though that was mostly bureaus dipping their fingers in for a bribe."

“So we’re looking at a megacorporation.  Someone with connections and deep pockets.”  Lara nodded.

"Ambitious underlings in a megacorp, more like." Sheri said, "Someone trying to embarrass or sabotage an internal rival, I doubt the news has even reached teh offices of the guys who were supposed to oversee the site."

“Yeah, not the top dog but certainly someone in the upper structure.  Someone with juice to make this happen and falsify evidence.”  Styles agreed.

"We play this one quiet until we have a name." Mike asserted, "Then…we communicate why that kind of thing is not acceptable."

“Yeah this is a problem that will actually be harder to solve with Battlemechs, at least for right now.”  Morgan said thoughtfully.

"How do we make the point then?"

Mike looked at Sarah.

She sighed, "We burn them.  We burn them.  Cleanse them with fire…maybe the sensation of burning will warm their hearts."

Steph smirked, "Sounds good to me, Jerry?"

Gerald looked doubtful, then he looked at Sarah, "We burn them."

Lara nodded.  “In every way possible.  But as good as we are, we can’t take on a whole megacorporation.”

"Burning them includes letting their bosses know why, and what." Nixon said, "See, 'burn' also can mean 'revealing someones dirty secrets before you blow their brains out'.  We burn them."

“So we gain access to the Mainstreet regional HQ, that should tell us who we need to burn.  If not, where the next link in the chain is.”

"Fire's good.  You can barbecue with fire, and put the pickles on the burger." Bob nodded. "Which is also good."

“Eat up my champions.  You’ll need your strength for this.”

"I'll need to speak with some…friends in the Mainstreet system." Sheri noted.  "There's a Community in the outer system-at least, according to the Sithers representative, they may be of use in providing documentation and Context."

"Who with?"

"Golden Bough." Sheri siad, "They'll speak to me."

"You're sure?" Mike asked, "Isn't Golden Bough affiliated with Metis?"

"They'll speak to a Pathfinder from any faction, they'll speak with me.  They're not Hand of God, after all."

“Then it sounds like we should be jumping.  We’re not going to learn anything more sitting here.”  Johnny said.

"After dinner." Tess asserted.

Mike looked at Sheri, "Will we be ready?"

She laughed, a bell-tone sound unlike her visible aging, "Mike, I've been ready to jump for Hours...after dinner."

Theresa smiled as she felt the bonds of their motley grow.  The small rituals, even something as simple as sharing a meal, would always draw them closer together.  And with it her power grew.

**6**

"She's so old..." Sarah wondered.  "I've never…I mean, I have seen old folks but-"

"Sheri's a special case.  She's been with us since the first day, or so I've been told, but she isn't the boss of anything but the boat. On the Ship, she's the voice of god."  Steph explained, "She's also kind of rare to see, tonight was special."

"Huh.  Wow.  I know I’m the new girl but this doesn’t feel like hazing, so it must be the truth.”  Sarah nodded.

"Sarah, you'll know when the hazing happens.  Sheri's been with the company since it WAS a company, but she's reclusive.   She has a sad story of her own, but so do we all-yours is the worst yet, if you're keeping track."

Sarah nodded.  “I still think about them.  How I couldn’t save them.  I need to make someone burn.”

"Oh, we're going to do that." Steph agreed, "We will definitely do that.  First, we'll burn them with their bosses, so nobody will be coming to save them, then you get to burn them for real.  After that, well, then we get to do it again to some other bastards who think ordinary people's lives make good range targets."

“I’m certainly down for that.  This shouldn’t be allowed to happen to anyone else either.”  Sarah nodded.

"That's what we're here for…now, let's get you secured for the jump, have you ever traveled by jumpship before?"

"No…"

"Oh fun!  It's a sensation like nothing else."

“Really?”

“Sometimes you can even experience it real time.  It’s not as instantaneous as most people think.”

“You know what we should do, don’t you?”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“Come on.  We need to see Styles.”

Steph grabbed Sarah and pulled her to another part of the ship.

“Steph.”  Styles said flatly.

“Since it’s new girl’s first jump I want to make it special.”

“Ah.  Let’s see…”  Styles nodded and then started digging through the equipment racks before eventually coming out with a couple of space suits.

“Listen to Steph and you’ll be fine.”  Styles nodded.

After about an hour Sarah and Steph were latched securely to the side of the ship.

Golden light washed across the ship as it went into jump, and Sarah saw.

Translucent, a form, wrapped around the ship, wrapping through the ship.  Vast, like tentacles and branches, like lightning and fire, colorless and everywhere.

"The ship…it's alive…"

Steph chuckled over the comm.  "Relax and stay low, enjoy it."

Hyperspace wasn't empty, and they were both a part of it, and apart from it here.

As she looked down the hull she could swear she saw a little girl playing on the hull.  It was both youthful and ancient.

“Harry Dresden and John Constatine walk into a bar.”  The voice was unfamiliar but Sarah wasn’t hearing it over the comm or in any traditional sense.

Then reality re-asserted itself.

"They said "ow, who left that there?"

"Who's Harry Dresden?"  Sarah asked.

"Didn't get much literature in school, did you…hmmm."

**7**

Bob sat next to her on the ride down to the surface.  Grounding the dropship was costly and Mike had a different intent this time, so they were taking a service shuttle to the port-a parking space that costs a lot less.

Up close, Sarah could see how the middle-aged man's head was deformed, the result of some brutal traumatic injury. 

His demeanor was simplistic but there was something behind his eyes, something Sarah recognized.

"Two." Bob said cryptically.

“Two what?”  Sarah asked.

"Daughters." Bob said.  There was something liquid in his left eye, the right one seemed…dry.  "Two.  Gone."

Sarah nodded.  They shared the pain of outliving their children.

"Your Boy would have looked good." Bob added.  "Boy gone too."

“Yes.  I think he would have looked just like his father.  Handsome.  Powerful without being oversized.”  Sarah smiled weakly.

Bob took a flask out of his pocket.  "Can't forget." he said.  "Want to. Can't."

“No.  I’ll never forget either.”

He passed his flask to her, as the shuttle vibrated through the atmosphere transfer.  "Hate Flying."

“For what it’s worth I think I’m not a fan either.”  Sarah took a sip.

Sarah handed the flask back with a smile.

Bob took a sip.  Then, "Fire's good." He nodded, "Clean the rot out."

“Yes.  Disease, filth, all of it.  Fire burns it all out if it’s hot enough.”

Across from them, Nixon snored against Eckhard's chest, while the tall woman slept with soft snores.

“Lucky woman.  To still have that in all this madness.”  Sarah smiled slightly.

Bob grunted noncommittally.

The flight deck door opened, and Mike came back, "We'll be grounding in ten minutes, someone want to wake up Eckhardt?"
"Why Eckhardt and not Nixon?" Sarah asked innocently.

"Because Nixon's 'startle' reflex breaks bones." Styles said as she sat up in her web-seat.  "Morgan, at least, has some self control when she comes out of deep sleep.  Her boyfriend there? He's carrying enough Traumatic Stress to fill a sanitarium."

“Oh.”  Sarah said sheepishly.

“Plus there’s a trick you can use to wake Morgan up gently once you master it.”  Lara said as she stood up and moved across the cabin.

Lara carefully grabbed Morgan’s left hand and began working the area between the thumb and index finger.

“Morning.”  Eckhardt said as she opened her eyes.

“We’re landing soon.  Time for you to work your magic on Nixon.”

Morgan laid fingers on the sleeping man and whispered something in his ear.

"Mmwhah?"

"Time to wake up sweetie."  She kissed his ear.

“MmmgMGMgmghmr.”  Nixon sat up and started rubbing his eyes.

“I know.  I’ll make it up to you later.”  Morgan playfully bit at Nixon’s ear.

“Promise?”  Nixon said suddenly much more awake.

“Yes.”  Morgan pecked him on the cheek.

“Those two have no shame do they?”  Sarah asked.

“Not really, no.”  Styles answered.

“Well everyone get ready.  Landing in less than ten minutes.”  Mike announced again now that everyone was awake.

Sarah found she was glad the rest of the trip was reasonably quiet and a sense of relief fell over her as the shuttle touched down finally.

The space port at Mainstreet was little more than a strip of reinforced ferrocrete with rolling stairs for craft that needed them.

The Murderhobos collected their bags and a couple crates.

The air outside, it was cool and wet.  More of a fall day than deep winter on Winter.

Mike seemed to survey the port with an odd expression.  "What is it?"

"Not like I remember." He said, "Come on, let's go."

The group picked up their pace as they marched for the customs building.

[Daryk]

Dang it... Google has locked me out of editing AGAIN, but I can at least read ahead.  I guarantee a good time to anyone reading from here! :)

[monbvol]

[Co-author] Yeah me and Cannonshop talked about it and both of us are just finding we aren't able to keep this going but I'll at least post what we've written up. I should also put up the AI art for the characters as is now typical.  [/Co-Author]

**8**

”It's not like I remember"  Mike caught his statement for what it was, and left it there.

When the 101st hit Mainstreet, the spaceport had been almost up to Hegemony standards, the dropship pits had cooling towers and heat sumps to cool dropship hulls, the terminal had been almost a kilometer long and half a kilometer deep, a four story building with passenger concourses.

Almost all of it was gone.

Stripped after more than a century. he knew it intellectually, but seeing it was still…disturbing.

Even with all the other destruction, the loss, the death of civility and civilization…They tore the damn buildings down to loot them for materials.

"What're you thinking about, Mike?" Nixon asked as they passed through what passed for a customs checkpoint.

"Scavenger Economies." Mike said, "Remember when the one-oh-one hit this place?"

"I do…yeah.  They must've stripped it for the utilities, and busted up the ferrocrete to get the endo reinforcement bars."

Mike nodded.  "Must have."

The lone building was at least of a decent size.  It was clearly meant to be the ticketing and customs facility for inbound and outbound flights.

Even that though had clearly seen better days.

They entered the building and walked up to the checkpoint.

The young man at the counter barely looked up before muttering “Anything to declare?”

“Skipping right past the business or pleasure questions eh?”  Lara smiled.

“No one comes to Mainstreet for pleasure.”  The young man countered.

“That bad out here these days?”  Lara leaned in, letting the young man get a good look at how perfectly she had her top zipped down.

“Bandit activity has been on the rise.  Word is bandits over-ran a settlement on Winter and had to be driven out.  That sort of thing doesn’t attract tourists.  You aren’t refugees, you’re dressed too nice.  You aren’t the rotation force, too few of you.  So you must be mercs passing through.”

“Too true.”

“Still I need your documentation and if you’re bringing in anything we need to know about.”

Lara reached inside her shirt and pulled out an old fashioned hard copy passport.

The young man inspected it, then looked Lara in the eyes, then down Lara’s frame.

“I have an excellent surgeon, nutritionist, and personal trainer.  All in one.  But you’ll have to forgive me if I’m reluctant to give out their contact info.  Hard to find someone who can keep me looking this good despite my age.”  Lara adjusted her posture to let the young man oggle her more easily.  “But as far as your records are concerned we only intend to be on world for a few days.  Just need to stretch our legs on the surface of a world and do some research.”

“All right.”  The young man said as he handed Lara’s paperwork back, ever so slightly thinner.

The Murderhobos went through the customs checkpoint with no further hassling.

“I thought for sure they were going to want to search our stuff.  How’d you do that?”  Sarah asked once back outside.

“Something you’ll learn.  How to weaponize the fact that most men find us women of the unit achingly attractive.  Plus a bribe hidden in my passport.  Only certain crimes concern us.  So we don’t mind a little corruption here and there if we can make use of it.”  Lara answered.

Somehow Mike and Theresa had gotten ahead of the rest of the group and already had transport waiting for them.

“I didn’t even notice them split off…”  Sarah muttered.

“They’re really good at that.”  Styles helped load a crate in the back of the transport.

As soon as everyone and everything was loaded aboard the groundtruck it was a short drive to what would be their temporary base.

It was a rundown old style apartment complex, a true one with a common square/green space, the lowest level being various types of shops, and living areas above those.

Theresa pointed at one of the former shops and Nixon and Styles took the crates to that one.

Sarah followed, curious.

This one had been setup as a small restaurant.

A rag was put in one of her hands and a bucket of water in the other.

“Unless you want to eat and sleep in filth.”  Styles said as she started cleaning up the place.

“Don’t worry about any squatters.  You’ll be safe from them.”  Theresa said as she was scrubbing the food prep area.

Sarah got to work.  After about an hour Theresa was cooking and true to her word Theresa had drawn out all the squatters with the smells of fresh food.

An agreement was reached so the Murderhobos could have their privacy without displacing the squatters.

“Regional LCAF HQ.  Admin offices.”  Mike began briefing as the holoprojector began putting images on the wall.

“We’re not sneaking in as cleaning crew or prostitutes this time are we?”  Lara observed.

“We don’t have the connections in play to make that work this time.  But as traveling mercs, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if we swung by to inquire about possible work.”  Mike continued.

“I think I see where this is going.  We put on a show.  Give the local garrison troops a little something to look at while Nixon and Wangker slice their databases.”  Styles nodded.  “I think I have just the costumes to give us the best chance.”

**9**

"...You came back clean on the MRBC, Mister Garrow-no complaints, no real record either, so I still have some questions."  Kommandant Mira Dayyan folded her hands, "We get mercs coming through here claiming to look for work-more than a few of them aren't here looking for a job, some of the ones who do come looking for work, end up on the other side as bandits."

"I understand, Kommandant."  Mike said, "you have a legitimate concern there.  We're not looking for anything long-term, mostly we're looking to do some short-term work.  My company has a backer, and part of this mission we're on right now, is establishing reputation for securing future contracts.  Going bandit runs directly counter to that."

"You have a backer…"

"Yes, investors." Mike smiled, "I couldn't afford to have the equipment we've got, without our chief investor, and that investor would be…unhappy…if my unit were to turn pirate-we're only interested in honorable work that improves our backer's business position and can work to improve their public relations, if and when they choose to go public."

"Intriguing." she said, "Your 'backer' is intending for your company to be publicly traded on the Market?"

"Shares." Mike said, "As part of the overall image. We've talked stock releases, but first, we've got to…how do you say it in german…Prove our value and viability?  It's a lot like the Solaris Stables system-we need to prove ourselves, so when we start marketing certain goods, they'll sell. War is a young man's business, and I already know sooner or later I'll be getting old.  Naturally, the work itself needs to be short-term and somewhat visible, or at least, something that can be marketed via press-release."

"So not out here just to hunt pirates…"

"Hunting pirates is the sales pitch, not the objective." he agreed, "Part of the problem with bandit-hunting, after all, is what do you get paid for when the Bandits are gone?  When they move on somewhere else due to the heat, or when you're very successful?  Killing scumbag bandits is the marketing method, and marketing methods can change, the mission is to sell a product."

"What product?"

"I don't know. My investors haven't said, but they gave me a huge lump of money for equipment, and spares, and told me the overall strategy.  For all I know, it could be sports drinks or potato crisps. All I know for certain, is that we're here to shop for work in anti piracy and bounty hunting roles."  He smiled closed-lipped, "and the investors believe doing so successfully will help their bottom line and build reputation for their corporate interests in a manner similar to, but not exactly like, running a championship Solaris stable."

"So they sent you here to find fights to win." she said.

"Exactly."  Mike resisted the urge to check his watch.  By now, Johnny and Nixon should have penetrated the information nets.

"That is…interesting.  Well, I can't offer anything but long-term garrison contracts, however, I'm willing to okay your short-term licenses and you can look for work locally in this region.  Given the prevalence of Bandit attacks, maybe you'll get a bite ... There was that attack on Winter, after all."

"Yes."

**10**

There are other ways besides slicing into networks, to gather information.  Styles occasionally even reminds people of this fact-or Tess does.

One of the best ways to identify who's got an enemy in the corporate hierarchy, is to go where the corporate Employees spend their free time, and just…hang out.

Make 'friends', listen to who's complaining, buy them a few drinks, and let them violate their non-disclosures all on their own.

Maybe, even seem to agree with whatever their personal, professional grievance is.

There are several different social 'tiers' where private sector people go to soothe their nerves, socialize, or avoid going home.  Generally, if you're trying to find someone with a faulty sense of security in the middle levels,  Public Houses aren't the location, unless they're relatively upscale, the kind of places where the bartender has a degree of talent and training, with quiet music and soft, but not low, lighting.  Styles worked out the right places through a survey of the local advertising, and by looking in the parking lot.  The gathering places for lower executives and middle management have personal automobiles, of good quality and recent vintage.

High powered executives and important managers have drivers, or use taxi cabs, or have personal autos more on the side of extortion…or compact cars no more than ten, but no less than two, years old…and they have personal staff with them.

If you're looking for a Janitor, you visit the lower-tier side of the city, not quite dive bars, just lower income places with pickup trucks, old cars, or the occasional older but still maintained Bike or Trike out front.

Family cars or farm trucks are a dead giveaway.

"Why am I here though?" Sarah asked.

"Because a lone woman at a nightspot on a week night is usually a professional-but not an office professional." Styles explained, "Two women out are 'hunting'.  Three works too, which is why Steph is meeting us here.  Three mid-tier office girls in our twenties to early thirties, out trolling for men at the middle-management singles places where middle managers go to find someone to cheat on their spouses with."

"Why's that important??"

"Because the theory that this was instigated between rival executives at the parent company holds water."  Styles explained, "The Military isn't likely to pull a raid on loyal citizens for shits and giggles, but corrupt officers will usually take backhanders from corporate executives and if they're dirty enough, they'd do what was done to you for a little 'extra', or for the offer of a better job when they leave the service…usually a personal security gig.  Thing is, the rivalries between senior people are known to middle management, and if they're sharp enough to instigate internal sabotage, someone will talk about it…to the right person.  We're aiming to be that right person, while Vien is hitting the local boys-bar because that kind of man doesn't talk to women."

**11**

"Pathfinder, Your arrival is welcomed."  Kass Deen112 said from inside the airlock.

"Captain, I bring meat, wood, and biomass.  I'm looking to trade for news."  Sheri said.

"You're safe on my boat, Pathfinder, so long as you don't offer violence."

"I bring no violence with me."

The hatch to the umbilical opened, and Sheri floated across.

"As soyuz and Apollo." Kass said, grasping Sheri's hand.  "Long trip from where you started, beltah."

"Ayuh." Sheri nodded.  "You're already to one eleven?"

"We reorganized it after Black August." Kass said, "Which you already know.  Last time someone had your name, she was from Lost Ganymede, and word remains that Sol is unsafe for Free Stars."

"It remains so." Sheri agreed.

"You're here about Winter, looking for words to tell you who."  Kass said, "Unless I miss entirely the configuration of Gloria in Excelsis, which ship has been 'sighted' near several incidents where the evil got what they deserved."

"Keep it in your helmet." Sheri cautioned.

"The Guild keeps its secrets, Pathfinder.  Before I ask what the favor is, come and have a meal."

“Ayeh.  Thank you.  Though I must confess I am surprised to be meeting with Free Stars when the information was this system was Golden Bough.”

They began floating through the passageway deeper into the ship.

“It is.  My sister is contracted with one of theirs.  So we have an arrangement for situations like this.”

“Your chef?  What is their rating?”

“Two.”

Sheri nodded.  Much like a good Pathfinder, a good chef was a godsend for a spacer community or ship’s crew.  Higher the number the better they were.  Many failed to get to Three or higher before they had to retire.

Microgravity, air pressure, temperature, and a dozen other variables made it so.

They came to a hatchway and inside was a small office and two chairs on opposite sides of a desk.

They sat and secured themselves.

“Drink?” Kass asked.

“Whiskey.”  Sheri answered.

Kass produced a bottle and carefully filled a pair of microgravity tumblers.

Sheri smelled the amber liquid and took a sip.

A steward came by with two covered dishes.

He placed one in front of each of them then left as quietly.

“You know with a name like yours there would be many that would be willing to contract with you despite the association.  It might be something to consider.”  Kass said as she uncovered her dish.

“I am already as committed as I care to be.”  Sheri shook her head.

She lifted the lid off her own dish.

It was a beef with noodles and vegetables dish.  The sauce was thick and sticky to help keep everything together in the microgravity.

It wasn’t Tess’ cooking but it wasn’t bad.

“You’re going to make having some small talk while we eat difficult aren’t you?”  Kass smirked.

“I’m sorry.  I’ve grown accustomed to being alone.  I don’t really mix with others socially that often.”

“I couldn’t tell.”  Kass chuckled lightly.  “You’re among your own kind here, not those wellahwalla you’re used to.”

“I’m that easy to read?”

“About who you keep company with?  Ayeh.  It’s pretty obvious.  But if you choose to keep with them then I assume you have your reasons.”

“They’re not so bad.”  Sheri admitted.

“Ayeh.  Some of them are good folk and show promise.  Got a couple on my crew that have taken to the life.”

“Good.”  Sheri finished her dish.

“Okay, meal is finished and so is the small talk.”  Kass finished her own dish.

“Winter.  Someone convinced the LCAF that a civilian settlement was actually overtaken by bandits.  Someone had to transport them.  Anything else you can tell me would also be welcome.”

“Ayeh.  The MS MacKinnon's Hound,  she's an Invader class homeports here in the Mainstreet system.  Contract's mostly with Lyran military or Defiance Industries, but they also do work for Coventry Metal Works.  Their ship's master supplements his income with a commission as a 'Reserve Cruiser' to Transport Command."

"So…not regulars then?"

"As close as you're likely to get this century.  The Navy's been mostly past-tense since they lost the LAS Invincible, it exists, but…well, more as an administrative thought exercise outside of the core worlds."

“Certain things are starting to make sense though…  There is also a mech factory on Winter.”

"More than one.  We've done haulage for subcontractors working out of the Arcologies there, but nothing big, not since the Commonwealth took that world from the Rimjobs."

"Rumours then?" Sheri asked.

"Rumour has it, the site that was hit, was planned to be a major agglomerator-that is, it was supposed to concentrate a group of subcontractors for Coventry Metal Works, to move some production away from the ongoing war-fronts, story has it, the intent was to tie in to producing finished product, instead of subcomponents and materials."

“Our information was that it was Lockheed-CBM that was sponsoring the site.”  Sheri furled her brows.

"Joint.  Lockheed-CBM for some of the materials science and advanced tech, Coventry for the heavy equipment.  My co-op lost a dozen transport contracts when the site was hit and the program shut down."

“That leaves room for a lot of suspects still.”

"It does, doesn't it?"  her host said.  "Here's one for your grapevine then.  Word has it, the funding was redirected to expanding CMW's home complex on Coventry, only they're not building anything…and this is just spacer's rumours, but the Archon's out about forty billion Kroner in insurance payouts."

“I understand.  Please if you learn anything more, I wish to know.”

"I'll keep a channel clear."

“I almost forgot…  I must be getting old.  We never agreed on a price.”

Kass smiled, "No, we didn't.  Call it 'a favor to be repaid at a later date'."

“Thank you.”

**12**

It's never entirely simple, but this was getting downright complicated.  "Here's what we know-there's a lot of money that seems to be missing."

“No kidding.  The existing Mechplant on winter is run by Diplass’ last remnants after the fall of the Rimworlds.  We have Coventry, Lockheed, and a few others trying to establish a new site…”  Lara rubbed her temples.

"Diplass, in turn, at least the remnants, are owned by Coventry Metal Works, and subcontracts computer components for avionics to Lockheed CBM through Nashan Enterprises on Donegal." Nixon continued, "The site you were working on, Sarah, was supposed to be a joint development project between Lockheed CBM and Coventry Metalworks, and they financed with a loan from House Steiner, who also underwrote the site's insurance."

“That’s what I don’t get.  Certainly there would be more money in adding another factory rather than trying to keep the status quo.”

"Maybe." Nixon agreed, "Or…maybe someone saw a short term gain."

“Yeah, this feels more like a scheme.  Perhaps something similar to what we saw way back when.  Maybe someone saw a chance to get nice shiny new factory tooling but decided instead of getting that tooling they’d just say that was what was bought.  In reality they bought old worn down tooling instead and blew up the evidence.”

Johnny leaned on his elbow, "Piracy has been down in the region, and the decline started shortly after the project was approved.  It's picking up again according to the canary sheets they've got in the Garrison's database."

“Yeah.  That makes some sense.  Someone bought up some substandard goods, faked a bandit report which was believed since it was on the rise, and in the firefight no one would even question that the tooling sent to the site was substandard because it was full of holes.”  Lara said thoughtfully.

"I feel like we're close." Mike commented.

Bob was nibbling on a pickle from a local grocery chain.  "Payoff."  he said.

"What?"

"I think I get it." Sophie said, "The money was spent, until it ran out?"

Bob nodded.

"On paying off…who?"

Bob kept munching.

"The drop in raiding was after the project was approved, right?"

"That's what it looks like."

"And it picked up after the hit on Winter?"

"The current senior officer in the Periphery region, he's new."

“Do we know what happened to the previous one?”

"Promoted to Mount Asgard, for reducing piracy in the region.  At least, according to the press." Johnny commented, "There's some interesting flags on him in the Garrison's database-the guy did a few raids including a punitive up to the Oberon Confederacy, early on, the project got green-lit, and since then, there's been relative quiet."

"Until the Winter raid?"

"Until the Winter raid."

"Paid Off." Bob said again, as if it were obvious. 

"They ran out of funds to embezzle paying off the Pirates."

“Well there goes my theory…”  Styles fished a ten Star League Dollar bill out of her top and handed it to Nixon.

"Depending on who was doing that payoff.  The hit on the Winter site was to cover for the embezzlement, how much do you want to bet they were skimming from the skim?"  Eckhardt argued.

“Hmmm, we’re talking Lyrans, so that’s a sucker’s bet.  If we got the contract we would find a fee for the fee to get a hard copy of the document.”  Styles shook her head.

“Then seems likely the good Leutnant General that was supposed to be overseeing the safety of this region was in on this too.”

Sheri came in, she looked supremely uncomfortable here on the surface, her 'civlian clothes' were mismatched, out of date, and she stank of alcohol and narcotics.

"Sheri!!"

"Found out something, can't send by radio, had to…come…down." She said.  There was a blank terror in her eyes that even Sarah could see  "Because it's important."

Tess stepped into the kitchen area and started working on some tea.

"What did you find out?"

"I know what they did, and why they did it, and who needs to face punishment.  It's all in the flow of the money from the Winter project…it's like General Motors Ganymede Fifteen all over again."

Tess returned with a cup of hot tea and handed it to Sheri.  “This will help.”

Sheri drank it like she was starving, not taking a moment to savor anything, but she did sit down at the table after Bob got up and gave a gesture to his former seat.

"The plot begins with an honest effort to improve things." Sheri said, "Bradford and Doons were hoping to place major production of a 'mech design out here, because it's too far for the Free Worlds or Dracs to raid, only there's the piracy problem, so the Province's Lieutenant General came up with the idea to use soft-power tactics to reduce it."

"The payoffs."

Sheri nodded.  "He probably thought he could keep things temporary…" she swallowed and Tess poured another cup, "Thank you…They purchased equipment from a salvage outfit in Ender's Cluster and on Kowloon-two outfits.  Both had contracts through the local branch of Golden Bough's Co-op, so they delivered the goods…which were brought to the transfer by members of Free Stars-my faction still exists out here…"

"Amazing." Mike reacted.

"Yeah, tell me about it…anyway…The goods were charged a certain amount, which is not what Coventry paid-because they were paying a lot more.  I just finished a comm-call with…someone.  The Grimms were getting around two million Kroner plus goods 'off the back of a truck' to lay off this region, only the payments stopped."

"What kind of goods?"

"Farm gear, infrastructure goods, some ammunition, but the big product was water purifiers.  Their dealer raised prices about the same time the money from the project hit 'budget deficit' and the main investors were going to send an auditor."

“And with the payments stopping, well it just sped up the inevitable.  But before the Pirates could come…”  Johnny nodded.

"They pre-empted the bandits by blowing it up so the auditors couldn't have a look." Mike completed the thought.  "So…who?"

"The right 'honorable' Halvard Sisson Claybourne, comptroller for Coventry Metalworks Periphery branch.  The bribes were set at five million Kroner per year, but some of that was in material goods, what was delivered was just a bit under three million per year.  Grimm was okay with the short-change because the cultivators were good, so were the purifiers."

“And the Leutnant General?  No way their hands were clean in all this and I’m not sure I buy the whole transfer promotion thing.”

"He bought a residence within a kilometer of The Triad, and that's expensive real estate, only old money or someone with a LOT of money can afford the lease there."  Sheri noted, "My source says it's bigger than the Ducal visiting residence for Kowloon."

“And good old Giovanni is all too in over his head to really know what’s going on.”  Sarah nodded.

"Who's your source?"

Sheri scowled at Bob for asking the question, but, after a moment's hesitation, "Mai Cartwright, she's got ties to Free Stars and to the feudal nobility in this region, her cousins work for the Dukes of three worlds, usually as transportation operators, and Salvage Administration.  Her cousin's firm at Kowloon supplied some of the equipment for both the project on Winter, and the water purifiers they were giving Grimm's bunch."

“So where is this Clayborne?”  Sarah asked.

Sheri pointed west, "About ten kilometers west of here, just outside town, small estate…if he's home he likes to hit the fleshpots on Arluna."

“Scuttlebut we picked up at the bars was that he’s got a side piece from the secretarial pool.  A cute little brunette with glasses if the picture we were shown was accurate.”  Styles offered.

"We make sure she's not home."  Bob muttered.  "No Collateral."

"What if she's involved?"

"We should find out."  Eckhardt said.  "Also find out how much she knows."

“Besides we still don’t have enough to burn him with his superiors yet.  So while we might know he did it…”  Sarah groused.

"Mmmm… burn." Bob nodded.  "Burn, then Burn."

“Yes.”

"We know the plot, let's focus on getting the evidence now." Mike said, "Preferably before someone else does…and Sheri, you don't have to stay ground-side for this, if you want-"

"I want. I'll be back on the ship, safely out of…" she glanced around, "...danger."

"Bob, could you make sure she makes it home safe?" Mike asked.

"Yes."  the deformed man nodded once, laying a protective hand on the old woman.

“Be well and travel safe my champion.  Thank you for braving the trip to tell us.”  Theressa smiled.

"Milady." Sheri gave a head-bow, before letting Bob help her out of the chair and to the door.

"I wanted to do that, Mike." Johnny commented.

"I need you here.  Bob will make sure she's protected." Mike said firmly.  "So, let's get to work, we know what to look for, now we just need to find it."

“Tell me you got a name before you got too drunk Styles.”  Lara asked.

"Suzanne Crowder.  Age thirty two, no children, used to be a beauty queen locally." Styles said, "She's…omnivorous."

“Well that should make our introduction easier.  Got an address for her?”  Lara prompted.

Styles preened, then said, "We'll need to use Jerry for this.  Suzie's omnivorous, but she mostly likes men, and he's her type for a fling."

“All right.  Then what’s our approach for the big man himself?”

Steph looked at Sarah, then at Bob's empty seat, and then to Eckhardt.  "I think I know how to approach him." She said, "Executives and academics tend to share certain…traits, we're all very vain and arrogant, don't you know."

“So naughty school girl, secretary, or what?” Lara asked.

"Naughty School Girls, Secretaries, adoring fans, and the like."  Steph said blankly, "Get me close, Styles, and I'll have him eating kibble from the dog's bowl."

“Hehe.  Should I also get you the bondage gear?”  Styles giggled.

"I'll stop at the hardware store and get my own, dirtbags like that don't deserve the good leather.  The richer, and less legitimate they are, the more they break down when you break out the strapping tape."

“Kinky.”

“Down Styles.”

“Aww.  You guys do seem to like shutting me down just when it’s getting good.”  Styles fake pouted.

"You're going to find his contact man inside the Military, Styles." Mike said, "There's always a contact man, as long as you get the evidence I don't care what you do to them."

“Well at least Lyran Blues are a good color match for me.”  Styles said thoughtfully.

Vien frowned, "This means I'm working couples with Styles?"

"He might not be straight, luv." Styles said, "So you're handsome, and…morally flexible enough to fill the role."

“All right.  I’ll take the challenge.  If it doesn’t work out, well there’s a few bars I could go to instead where I know I can get some fun.”

"What do you want me to do?" Sarah asked.

"You're with me and Lara for now, Sarah, you're on the backup team with the leadership." Mike explained, "So, let's go visit some gun stores, something local we can drop."

“I do love shopping.”  Lara smiled.

“I know I’m still new here but…  What’s she going to do during all this?”  Sarah gestured at Theresa.

"Keep you all healthy." Tess asserted.  “Which means I should let our fellow residents know we’ll be out for the day.  They’ll make sure we can come back here when we’re done.”

**13**

Suzie Crowder was having a bad evening.  She'd paid good money for this condo-it wasn't a gift from Sisson.  She'd actually kept her own money and investments separate from his gifting.  The life of a side-piece is often dependent on being aware that your status can change-and not in a good way.

Her mother told her that once, in one of their many, many, many fights.  'If you're going to be a whore, keep some of the money'.

Sisson was off on business to Arluna again, and she didn't feel a burning need to confront his wife, so she was at her own home when the burglars broke in.

"The boss said to make it look like a robbery, Three." 

"I know, but this bitch doesn't have anything worth stealing!!"

"Where's the good stuff, speak up bitch!!"

PHUTT
PHUTT

A scream

PHUTT-PHUTT!!

Her interrogator sprayed her with something hot and wet, and then fell at her bound feet.

"You okay miss?"  a tall, bulky man in a balaclava asked, "I mean, besides being tied up and terrified?  They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"Upstairs is clear!" a female voice announced.

The big man untied her.  "They…they were going to kill me! Maybe worse! I heard them talking about maybe worse!!"

"It's all right Liebschen, the bad men won't be hurting you now, see? They're dead!" he said it brightly, like a hero from a holovid.

A groan from the kitchenette…"Okay, not all dead, not yet." he said brightly.  "You can call me 'Jerry', fraulein Crowder, I'm a nice man, you can trust me."

She licked her lips…"They were going to kill me…"

"Ja." he said, "But we killed them first!" he smiled.

"Jerry, show her your face, okay?" the man's partner said.

He pulled off the mask, "See, one of the good guys!"

He was handsome.

Suzie took a deep breath in.  A different primal part of her mind was taking over.

“You saved my life.”  She said as she all but leapt out of her seat, kissing him.

“Fine.  Just be quick about it.”  The female companion said.

Suzie blushed as her senses came back to her and she realized what was around her.

“You’re safe now.”  Jerry said.  “Just keep breathing, deeply.  In then out.”

“Why…”  Suzie started but shook her head.  “No, I know why.  There’s only one reason anyone would bother with something like this with me.”

“Tell us about Claybourne.”  Jerry said.

“My mother taught me to not be an idiot if I was going to be someone’s mistress.  So I’ll do you one better.”  Suzie said as she stood up and went into her closet.

After a few moments and some shuffling around of objects she came back out and handed a datachip to Jerry.

“It’s not much, but there’s some meeting notes on there.  They didn’t make a lot of sense to me at the time but now, with people coming to kill me…  They must be important.”

“Come on.  It’s clearly not safe for you here.  We have a place you can stay until this is dealt with.”  Jerry said gently.

“Yeah.  Let me pack some things.”  Suzie blushed again.

[monbvol]

**19**

Former Hauptman Konrad Hoek had barely gotten his unit away from the LCAF garrison before all hell let loose.  It was only by the slimmest of chances that he and his men were already in the hanger when the battleroms and Grimm’s confession showed on every screen that could display them.

So now their improvised column were marching toward the Dropport.  It was a rather open approach.

He had turned off the radio when Claybourne had started begging for his help.  Now that they were closing he turned it on again.

“All right people.  Keep your eyes open.  There’s not a lot of cover at a Dropport but we should still expect defenses of some sort.  Count was nine mechs attacked Claybourne’s beach house.  That merc dropper can hold twelve.  So there could be three more out there somewhere.”

Shadows were long, the sun was setting, and as the temperature in Mainstreet's capital city dropped, mists formed off the shore and in the damp earth, and Konrad hoped against hope this would work in their favour this evening.  The base was still in an uproar, nobody had yet sent out pursuers, because most of the battalion were doing maintenance, or off post.

As they closed in the dwindling light something just seemed off…  Mists this time of year aren't unusual.

If he'd been paying closer attention, he might have noticed they were thickening more quickly…

And service vehicles were shying from his course.

But desperation had a way of clouding judgment and he knew the longer they stayed on planet the worse it would be.

What he really didn’t know was how the hell he was going to actually take control of the Dropship once they got there.

But it was there, if he could reach it, he could take it.  "Ranger file through the main flat, two by two, fifteen meter separation, watch each other's flank." he ordered.

“Son of a bitch!”  The Phoenix Hawk pilot on his right yelped.

“You okay two?”

Something moved on his left, but the sensors remained flat.

“Bloody freaking sink hole here.  Sheared my right leg off at the knee.”  Two answered.

Fleik in her Zeus, pulling tail charlie, said, "I've got move-" CRASH!!!static....

He flicked a look back with the cameras, the Zeus was toppled, headless, and thermal showed venting heat from a hole in her back.

“******, they're behind us!!" Wittmann announced. 

“Hessen, help Jurgens.  Wittman hold steady.  Drenning sweep right, we need eyes on.”

Drenning brought his GRF-1S Griffin up to a jog, and made it almost thirty meters before a lance of PPC fire brightened his outline-and the reflection showed a Grasshopper delivering a left handed punch.

Static

The medium toppled, head assembly deformed to the ferrocrete tarmac as the flash dimmed away.

“Sensors are still showing clear.  How the ****** are they doing this?”  Jurgens asked as Hessen’s Whitworth helped his mech out of the sinkhole.

“Lostech…  It has to be some sort of lostech…”  Whitman almost prayed.

The Dropship was there-half a kilometer away, doors wide open, lighting going inside showing empty 'mech bays.  A promise of safety, a promise of escape.

“Doesn’t matter.  The bays are open.  Everybody press forward.  Won’t matter once we’re onboard.”  Hoek commanded.

Isley's scream on the common channel underscored it, and the company-what was left of them, broke into a run, tightening their formation as they did so, concentrating them.

The Dropship suddenly flared They can't lift with the doors open!!!

A Pillar of fire swept forward before they could really realize what was happening.

The fusion exhaust of a a dropship makes the synthetic lightning of a PPC look…well…it's significantly more energetic, even in a hover.  You can burn soil to glass a meter deep hovering and cruising with a dropship's engines, provided the nose thrusters were holding it to a specific altitude very close to the ground.

It's more than the fusion driven furnaces that Makes battlemech armor can produce…not including the hammering of kinetic energies as something capable of pushing thousands of tons of dropship at multiple gravities of acceleration-enough to break orbit from a stand-still if the pilot so chooses.

Clustered as they were, most of Hoek's Company were too close together, with no escape, as the dropship's engines burned them to slag from only fifteen meters up.

Only Hessen and Jurgens were spared for a moment due to Jurgen’s mech missing a leg.

But then they saw there was no escape.  The Dropship coming for them, a Grasshopper and Orion cutting off their only escape vectors.

Hessen screamed deprecations and pleas as the dropship shifted, bringing that pillar of fire, to settle in the dropship pit he'd been helping Juregens get out of.

They had time to scream, but not to escape.

For its part, the ferrocrete of the spaceport did its job, filtering the heat into the underlying dirt and bedrock to disperse relatively harmlessly.  No damage to the facility, beyond needing a crew to scrape the melted remains off the tarmac and out of the pit.

“Shame we didn’t leave much to be salvaged.”  Jerry lamented.

"By my count, Jerry, you left a Griffin and a Zeus headless but otherwise untouched." Nixon commented.  "That's pretty good for two on twelve."

“Ja.  Shouldn’t get too greedy.”  Jerry agreed.

Over the Murderhobo comm channel, Sheri chirped in, ”Wash down before you board, you've got blood on your hands, Jerry."

"Yes mom…"

**20**

Officially, a rogue company of LCAF personnel, fleeing arrest, were killed in an accident while attempting to hijack a dropship at the port.

Unofficially, Jerry didn't get to keep what he killed-the two damaged 'mechs had to be returned to the government with a small bounty-which would have been larger, if the cockpits didn't need to be replaced.

The mercenary Commando was theirs to keep though.

Garrow's Gunmen did have to pay almost ten thousand Kroner for the unauthorized movement of their dropship to a closer pit for fueling.  The fine was for unauthorized movement, and partially to pay for the crews to scrape melted scrap out of the dropship pit and off the tarmac.

They had to use jackhammers and paving dozers to deal with the mess, after all.

Mike paid out the fines, accepted the small bounty for executing the deserters, and collected the bounty for Garrow's Gunmen's 'services' to Coventry Metal Works.

Much of that bounty went to investment in the Winter Arcology Six project.

"Let's go home." Mike said.

"Home?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, we need to make repairs and you need more training.  He almost escaped that inferno.  Next time, the next guy won't."

"There's a next time?" She asked.

"There is always a next time.  Monsters like him don't happen out of nowhere and they don't stop happening…but for now, we need to get you trained up fully, and I'm thinking we don't want to stick around too much longer."

"Everyone aboard?" Sheri asked from the flight deck.

"Everyone's aboard." Lara confirmed.

The dropship lifted gently into the morning skies over Mainstreet, bound for a jumpship waiting to take them home.

To Be Continued

Chapter 11: Tommy 'ows your Soul?

The universal name is supposed to be 'John Doe'.  And it is, if you're not from the Federated Suns.  Then when they fill out a form for an unidentified, or unidentifiable, casualty it's 'John Doe'... but the example name on the Enlistment form for the Armed Forces of the Federated Suns, is 'Thomas Atkins', just like it was for the British Empire in the age of pre-spaceflight.

Which sucks, if your last name really is Atkins, and your parents really did name you Thomas.

The magical joke gets worse if your homeworld is named Dieron and you're a soldier of the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery instead of a Feddie.

NOBODY who knows the joke will leave you alone once they've found out about it.  Nobody.

You're always suspect.  Being red-haired and tall, thin, and lacking even cosmetic resemblance to the Coordinator, or most of the high command, doesn't help.  What helps less, is having that name because someone always suspects you of disloyal feeling.

Living under suspicion of disloyalty can have one of two outcomes.  Men under that pressure either become completely loyal, or they… don't.

Too much overt suspicion will turn the most loyal man into the traitor you fear him to be, sometimes.

All it takes is one bad day.

Tommy wasn’t that man, at least not yet.  But someone was really trying to make it look like he was.

What Tommy actually was, turned out to be in the way.

He had joined the 22nd Dieron Regulars not long ago, just in time for them to be deployed to Dromini to face the Dragoons.

Just the simple fact that he survived that with his mech intact had given him a level of fame.

Which was when he met Kiriko Yamada.

According to upper levels of Combine culture, they should never be allowed to marry.  He was a lowly commoner, and she was a noble.  But they were in love.

Which put Tommy in the position he was currently in.

Standing in front of the private residence of the Yamada family.

“Thomas.  You need to stop.”  Tai-sa Meiji Yamada stood in his path.  “Please.”

“I owe you for Dromini, but your father is making my life hell,”  Tommy said.  “All because I don’t meet some arbitrary standard of privilege.”

“Thomas.  You know how this works.  She’s nobility, you’re a commoner.”

“Meiji.  Move.”

“Not one more step.  I have my orders.”

Tommy nodded.  He acted as if he was going to turn away then quickly drew his pistol and shot the closest person he had to being a friend.

“She... won’t… forgive… you… for… this…”  Meiji said as he slumped to the ground.

Tommy walked past the gates.  The driveway was flanked by meticulously manicured hedges, and garden spaced.  At the roundabout in the center was a traditional zen rock garden with a modern Combine twist, stones placed for Luthien and each district capital.

There were no guards waiting for him.  This had become a matter of honor.  And if there was one thing the ruler of Ko, Tetsuo Yamada, was a stickler for, it was the neo-bushido code of the Combine.

It was stupid, Tommy decided.  But it would help him complete his task.

Tommy wound through the hallways until he found the room he was looking for.

The floors had been freshly mopped and stained.

“You should not have come here, Atkins-san.  Nor should you have shot my son.”  Tetsuo was still a formidable man, despite being many years Tommy’s senior.

“And you could have let me and Kiriko be happy.  Now…  She’s not.”

“This is the Combine.  There is an order and structure to all we are.  You reach above your station.  I could have made an exception, but you have failed your test.”

“Having your agents root around my life, accusations of treason, and freezing my accounts were a test?”

“Hai.  One you failed.  Quite spectacularly.  If you were truly worthy of elevation you would not have shot my son, marched in here so brazenly, and had found another way.”

Tommy didn’t even hesitate as he raised his pistol up and emptied the magazine into the man where he sat.

“******.  She really won’t forgive that,” Tommy shook his head

Tommy reloaded.  The guards might have stayed away initially, but they would come for him for real now.

As he stepped into the hallway, gun at the ready, he felt the first blow on his forearm.  Then another a fraction of a second later on his gun hand that caused him to lose his grip.

Tommy tried striking back but it was four on one and then soon after, eight on one.

They weren’t coming at him one at a time.  It was a good old fashioned beat down.

He was barely conscious when he felt them stop.

“Thomas.  Do not take what I am about to do as a sign of generosity.  You will not die this day, but know you have cost yourself the love of the woman you professed to cherish.  You are now worse than Ronin.  Death would be a release for you.  So for the crime of grievously wounding my brother and killing my father, I sentence you to a fate worse than death.  You are stripped of everything.  Clothes too.  Toss him in the worst slum you can find.”  Kiriko’s voice was ice cold.

[monbvol]

Yeah, there we are.  That's all the farther we got before we just ran out of juice on this one.

There's some good things in here but became a bit of a self defeating mess.

[Daryk]

Dang it... Google had just let me back in to edit... :/

I hope you guys find a new one soon! :)

[greylok]

Thank you for this story, this has been absolutely fascinating!!  I do hope you gentlemen get revitalized, and re-visit this, it really has been an entertaining read! the mix of Ancient and modern, the slow reveals.. 

Very much hoping this will find a continuance in your endeavors!!


As the wheel turns...