ANME-2

=Chapter 2 Ancient Memories=
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==Release==
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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.
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===Act 1===
Oslo municipalityTerra22nd 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.”
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===Act 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.
*Chapter Note: Chit – official piece of paper indicating a special request or granted permission
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===Act 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.
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===Act 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.
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===Act 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 960 Rifles, 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.
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===Act 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.
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