ANME-4

=Chapter 4 Ancient Memories=
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==You can't always get away==
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===Act 1===
"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.”
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===Act 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…"
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===Act 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.
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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?"
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===Act 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.
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===Act 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 richness, 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.
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