ANME-6

=Chapter 6 Ancient Memories=
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==Small Jobs==
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===Act 1===
Galatea, Lyran Commonwealth2794
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, rumors 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 rumors she'd spread reminding people of ancient legends of the Sidhe, and the Wild Hunt.
Tiny tributes of rekindled Belief. Her Glamor strengthened.
This was a good trip, for her.
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===Act 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.
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===Act 3===
"They're not real, they're a rumor." The Mercenary Review Board 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 MRB 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 MRB 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.”
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===Act 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.”
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===Act 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…
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