Fiona had gone about her daily routine for the rest of the day, trying not to dwell on what she had done. For the most part she had succeeded, but when it came time to sleeo for the night, she found her mind racing over the events over and over.

In the end, it wasn’t so much that what she had done bothered her. It did to some extent, and she was still unsure exactly how to come to terms with it. But more than that, she was bothered by how little it bothered her. She felt as though she should be overcome with guilt, or anxiety, or something. But she simply wasn’t. She was bothered, but not so much that she could not go about her daily activities.

The next morning before Abigail could come to rouse her, one of the guards instead woke her and instructed her to pack and report to the Dropship 

 She had little in the way of things to pack, the few clothes she had accumulated she shoved into a bag, dressed quickly and made her way out onto the tarmac. She was halfway to the ship when she heard a voice behind her. 

“Surat!” Abigail quickened her stride to catch up with Fiona. “My apologies, surat, I was occupied greatly yesterday and did not have time to seek you out to talk to you. You performed admirably in the Star Colonel’s office. While I admit that I have been starting to believe it possible that you have something of a warrior’s heart in you, I had some brief anxiety when he handed you the pistol. But I should not have, you did well.”

Fiona stifled a chuckle. “Is that a compliment, Mechwarrior?”

Abigail scoffed. “Neg, do not let such things go to your head, surat. I still believe you will fail in your quest, I merely admire your effort and tenacity.”

“I’ll—that is, I will take what I can get, I suppose. I am glad you found me, however.”

Abigail scowled. “Pfft. I must be getting soft. I will give you a thrashing when we reach the dropship.”

She was fairly certain that the remark was made in humor, but she couldn’t be certain. Over the last few weeks she had seen the occasional cracks in the warrior façade that Abigail put on, small bits of humor here and there, the occasional flicker of softer emotion in her eyes. “What I meant, Mechwarrior, is that I have no idea where I am to report to. I was simply told to report to the dropship. But I do not know where I will be berthed. From what I’ve seen, the 

 is way bigger than a standard Overlord dropship, but I am still certain that there is somewhere suitably out of the way and uncomfortable for the storage of bondsmen.”

Abigail furrowed her brow. “Do not complain, even sarcastically. It is not becoming a warrior. But I am able to help you. One of the smaller cargo bays has been repurposed as barracks for what bondsmen we are bringing with us. But you should be happy, we are taking very few with us, the majority that were claimed as isorla are remaining here to help administer the planet. Only a select few who are providing technical or support services are being carried with the cluster on the next leg of the invasion.”

They were almost at the dropship. “What about warriors like me?”

“There are no others like you. To my knowledge, you are the only warrior who was claimed with the intention of making a warrior of them. Most of your kind fought dishonorably and poorly. What warriors we captured who were found suitable will be repurposed, likely as techs or assistants or some such menial tasks. You should consider yourself lucky, surat.”

They started the climb up the ramp into the depths of the ship. “You keep calling me that, but I have no idea what a surat is.”

Abigail chuckled. “It is an annoying, monkey-like creature, one that some frivolous clanspeople keep as pets sometimes.”

“I am…flattered, I suppose?”

“You should not be, freebirth. Regardless, here is the cargo hold where the bondsmen are being housed. Get yourself settled, then come find me on the passenger quarter deck after we have lifted off. We can resume your training then.”

With a nod, Fiona entered the cargo bay, where a half dozen or so other bondsmen were already assembled. The bay was a small one, and there were a series of cots lining the right side of the wall. There were a significant number of containers arranged in no apparent order, creating an almost maze like series of passages. To the far left were two makeshift latrines and a pair of basins that looked to be hooked up to water lines to make sinks.

She started to make her way over to one of the cots, when she heard a shout. “Hey, Kendrick, is that you?”

She turned and saw face she recognized. Dirk Masterton had been a Hauptmann in one of the Ivarsson Chasseurs other battalions. He had something of a reputation as a flirt, and they had a brief fling when she first joined the unit. It hadn’t been anything serious, and they had just naturally drifted apart after a short time, but it was still good to see a familiar face.

“Dirk, what are you doing here?”

He laughed. “I could ask you the same thing, kid. I didn’t know the clanners had gotten you. I mean, I guess prisoners don’t all mingle and whatever, but still. Where did your unit get bagged?”

She tossed her gear on one of the cots. “We didn’t. At least, not at first. My lance was stuck doing rear echelon guard duty while the rest of the battalion went out to hit the Falcons. Then they came running past us in retreat just as quick. I had to challenge one of the clanners to a duel to get my people out.”

He seemed to show genuine interest. “So what happened? How’d you end up here?”

She sighed. “The regiment lifted off before we could make it back to the LZ. From there I just took my people out into the countryside until we hooked up with some remnants of the militia that had formed a resistance. I beat the clanners in another duel, but your luck only runs so far, you know?”

He nodded encouragingly. “You beat them twice? That’s crazy. With their technology, I’m amazed any of us lived to see our next fight.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I just did what I had to in order to stay alive and keep my people going. Nothing crazy about it.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Hey, I have to report to the mech bay or the senior technician will have my head. But it’s nice seeing a friendly face. Catch up with you tonight.”

She nodded and smiled, inwardly chastising herself for the myriad of thoughts going through her mind that did not have anything to do with catching up. Well, there would be plenty of time for that later.

Within an hour, they had lifted off, and she dutifully reported to Abigail in the upper levels where the warriors were housed. She made it past the myriad of strange and hostile looks she got, and within short order, she had found Abigail. The rest of the day consisted of a familiarization with the general layout of the ship, then more physical training. There were so many out of the way spots to train and exercise, and Abigail somehow knew them all, pushing Fiona through various routines just as sternly as when they had been planet side. But try as she might, throughout the day she found her mind wandering lustfully back to the attractive Hauptmann she knew would be waiting for her at the end of the day. She didn’t know if it was a byproduct of the injections she was getting regularly from the medics, the endorphin release from all the exercise, or the up and down adrenaline rush of having killed someone for the first time, but her urges only got all the more carnal as she tried to exercise her way out of them.

Not a moment too soon, the end of the day came and she found herself back in the cargo hold with a ration pack in her hand. She was the last of the bondsmen to arrive, and in her absence, she saw they had done some redecorating of sorts, using the natural maze of crates to create small semi-private “rooms” where they would be out of each others direct hair, and making it seem less like a prison cell or barracks.

True to form, Dirk had quickly sought her out and shown her his little corner of the cargo hold. “You would think with all this advanced tech, the Jade Falcons could come up with some better tasting rations.” he joked.

She sat across from him, eating her own pouch of whatever flavored hot mush the ratio pack was pretending to be. “It seems like everything is about efficiency to the Clans. And we are about the bottom of the barrel, so ‘nutrient dense supper like product’ it is.

Dirk gave her a once over, probably thinking she wasn’t paying attention. “Well you’re looking good for a prisoner. You look...I don’t know...meaner.”

She laughed dismissively. “You, Dirk Masterton, certainly know how to woo a ladies’ heart with talk like that.”

He caught himself. “No, I meant it as a compliment. I remember you as very much a ‘nobility mechwarrior’, but now you’re like….almost ripped. What have they got you training to do?”

She grinned coyly at him. “Are you going to swoon over me all night with your romantic streak, or are you just going to fuck me?”

He stammered for a moment, his eyes widening slightly. “I...um….that’s an option?”

She quickly unzipped her jumpsuit. “We are light years from home, crammed in a metal egg with the descendants of General Kerensky come back for blood...pretty sure that’s an option.”

The sex was hard, aggressive, and hungrier than was usual for her. She worked the Hauptmann to his limits before collapsing on the cot beside him. She stared up at the ceiling, contemplating the usual post-coitus freeing of mental boundaries, mixed with something that surprised her. For the first time, she was aware of a sense of her own strength and power. At that moment, she thought she could stare down all of Kerensky’s children at once and send them home with a glare.

She was interrupted in her reverie by her partner. “Ok, so I definitely know that was different from the last time. There’s a lot that has changed about you. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.” He was still preoccupied with running his hands over her bare flesh. She laid back and relaxed letting the sensation of his touch merge with the myriad of other sensations flooding over her. “What are they training you for?”

She exhaled slowly. “You know, to fight again. To be a Mechwarrior. That’s what I am.”

He stopped where he was, his hand cupping her left breast over her heart. “What do you mean. Like...for them?”

She focused her attention on his face. “Yes, as a Jade Falcon. Like it or not, we are Jade Falcon right now.”

He pulled back, sighing heavily as he rolled onto his back. “So, you think you’re going to become a mechwarrior again? Even if that’s true, then what? You’re going to go out there and gun down our own people?”

She rolled onto her side, facing him sternly. “How long do we have to rot here before the AFFC stops becoming ‘our own people’? They dusted off and left us for dead. Now I’m not in this for some Prince on New Avalon. I’m in this to survive. I’m a mechwarrior, that's what I do.”

He looked shocked. “Even if it means turning your guns on the people you swore to protect?”

She scowled. “And what you’re doing is somehow better? It’s ok to fix their mechs, just not to use them? Is that it?”

He sat upright. “Damn straight. No look, I’m doing what I have to in order to survive. You, you’re doing something more. Don’t you think about escape or freedom?”

She sat up to mirror him. “Every day. But my freedom is becoming a warrior again, becoming a person again. You might want to wallow away in servitude as some undercaste hand-me-down, but I don’t.” She stood and gathered her clothes quickly. “I guess this was a bad idea”.