ANME-1

=Chapter 1 Ancient Memories=
Part One: The Star League's Fall
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1. I left my baby lying here,Lying here, lying hereI left my baby lying hereTo go and gather blueberries.RefrainHovan, 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 trackOtter’s track, otter’s trackI found the wee brown otter’s trackBut ne’er a trace o’ my baby, O! Refrain3. I found the track of the swan on the lakeSwan on the lake, swan on the lakeI found the track of the swan on the lakeBut not the track of baby, O! Refrain4. I found the trail of the mountain mist
Mountain mist, mountain mistI found the trail of the mountain mistBut ne’er a trace of baby, O! Refrain
"Highland Faerie Lullaby"-Scottish TraditionalAudio diary of Ceilidh Markus"Highland Faerie Lullaby"-Scottish Traditional
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==Theresa's Song in Summertime==
===Act 1===
Dunrobin Castle, British islesTerra, Sol System15th November, 2779
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 rumor 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, stripping 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.
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===Act 2===
Dunrobin CastleA 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.
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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?
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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.
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===Act 3===
"Who ordered the operation at Dunrobin?" General 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.
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===Act 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…
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===Act 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 tumor 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 ruins. 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.
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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." 
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ATTENTION TO ORDERS!
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
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