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