Test of Faith - Chapter Five

(ooc: Special thanks here to Ace Kaller for participating and for supporting my crazy ideas when I pitched the current Faith plotline to him, and for agreeing to let me weave one of his characters into the Faithscape. Also note that I treat time VERY roughly in my writing, it's not meant to be precise or exact. Things move at the speed of "plot". And thanks for continuing to read. )

Test of Faith - Chapter Five

4TCR Barracks Complex
Outskirts of the Forbidden City
Sian
Capellan Confederation
24 March, 3075


     The 4th Tau Ceti Rangers had taken to having a kind of impromptu parlor and lounge immediately inside the entrance to what was supposed to have been their temporary barracks on Sian. That had been five years ago. The temporary barracks had become their home for the last trying years of the Jihad, as they came and went in the struggle to survive the conflagration sweeping the entire Inner Sphere.

     Having passed inspection at the outer checkpoint, Acadia McCarron pushed through the swinging doors into the lounge with a burst. She spun around in an energetic and almost flamboyant way, letting her hair swirl around her with it's alternating streaks of her natural raven-black color and the brilliant sapphire blue that she had taken to dying her hair in. "BAM! Count 'em people, FIVE toasters burned on that last raid. In a Phoenix Hawk!"

     She hadn't expected a chorus of applause, but usually people at least played along somewhat with her particular style of braggadocio. This time it seemed to fall as flat as a bad joke told to a room full of DCMS warlords. Her eyes darted around the room. Some people forced a smile, others deliberately avoided her gaze. Something was wrong. "Tough crowd," she muttered under her breath as she passed through the room and took the corridor towards the command center.

     She didn't bother showing her ID badge to the desk officer, and for the first time she could remember since this particular man had been assigned to the post, he didn't seem particularly flustered by her ignoring of protocol. She passed a bend in the corridor and the entrance to the command center came into view. In addition to the regular guard posted at the door, who she recognized, there was also a Death Commado standing watch, meaning one or more of the Strategios were inside.

     She reached the door and moved to enter, but the Death Commando barred her way with his arm. She gave the man an exaggerated eye-roll, and produced her ID badge from her shirt pocket. As he examined it, she turned to the other guard. "What's going on, Pete? Something is off around here."

     The sergeant's eyes looked away for a second, and his facial expression did not bode well. "You're gonna have to talk to Ork or your dad about that one. Sorry, little lady." She frowned. The Death Commando handed her badge back to her, and the 4TCR sergeant opened the door for her.

     The command area was fully staffed, and most of the senior officers were standing around the center table holomap with one of the Strategios. The map was focused, as it seemingly always was, on the Confederation border with the Word of Blake Protectorate. She approached the small crowd of people and waited for a pause in the speaking.

     "So, anyone want to tell me what's going on around here? You all look like a Tetatae ate your cat." At her words, all the eyes in the room darted back and forth between her and Ace. Well, all except for the Strategio Jiang-jun, who gave her a foul look of displeasure, and Ace, who gestured for her to join him in his office. She followed him in and closed the door behind her. She wasted no time getting to the point.

     "So.....what the hell is going on?" She could tell from his hesitation that something was seriously wrong now. She waited impatiently with her arms crossed across her chest.

     Ace let out a deep breath, then started to speak. "Acadia, your mom didn't make it back from the raid on Pleione."

     She cocked her head to the side and blinked, as if confused. "What do you mean she 'didn't make it back'? She's.....she's dead? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Her mind raced uncontrollably. It couldn't be true.

     "We don't know." He was purposely making his statements short, and it was annoying her.

     She furrowed her brow, and raised her voice slightly, "What do you mean you don't know? How can you not know? I know the force made it back, I saw the Yong Huo parked on the tarmac as I came in. So how can you not know?" She gestured in the direction of the spaceport as she spoke to emphasize her point.

     Ace ran his hand through his hair. "The raid went bad. At least part of a Shadow Division was also on the planet, and they had to break off the attack early. Your mom's company nearly got cut off heading back to the exfil point. They were taking heavy losses and weren't going to make it to the LZ, so she made a choice. She turned and delayed the pursuers, and the rest of the guys made it to the dropship. Last readings were her mech shut down and then went off the grid just as they lifted off."

     Acadia took a second to soak it all in. "So then, she's probably still alive. I mean, they would have taken her prisoner, right?"

     "With the Blakists......we just don't know. We know they took a few of our people prisoner earlier in the fight, but who the hell can figure these robes out."

     "So when are we leaving to go get her back?" Acadia's mech hadn't taken too severe damage in her last fight, they could have it ready in time for her to join the rescue effort. That must be what they were planning outside with the Strategios.

     Ace looked down and to the side, and closed his eyes. "We're not."

     The two words hit her like the fist of an Atlas. "What?!" She shouted, her composure shattered and anger spewing out. "What the hell do you mean we're not going to get her? We can't just leave her there. This is crazy!"

     He held up his hand to stop her tirade, and the angst weighed on his face. "We can't mount a rescue mission. Not for one person."

     She stormed closer to him, pointing angrily at him as she continued to yell, heedless of what anyone outside in the command center might hear. "What is wrong with you? We have to. She would go back for you."

     "No, she wouldn't. Not in this situation."

     She was up in his face now, and she hit him in the chest with her open palm. "That's crap! You know she would. Look, this isn't like she got captured by the DavRats and they're going to ransom her back or something. Do you have any idea what those freaks are probably doing to her right now while you're doing nothing? They're probably frakking torturing her right now and you're going to write her off? Like hell!"

     Having faced considerable of her fury, Ace raised his voice in response. "You think I want to? You think I have any choice? Even if right now we break every rule and go back for one person, I can scrape together maybe a battalion worth of mechs and support. They've got three whole damn militia divisions on planet, plus however many of their cyber-freaks they decided to bring. How am I supposed to crack a malfing Star League fortress with those odds? I can't."

     "You can't just leave her there, we're talking about my mom!"

     "I have no choice!"

     She smacked him in the chest one last time, "Stroke off!" and with that she stormed out the door slamming it behind her and running out of the command center.

*****

     As Acadia left, Cat entered the command center, just in time to witness the tumultuous sendoff. The officers gathered outside were silent, not knowing what to do or say. And who could blame them. Cat made her way over to the XO's office and knocked on the door gently before entering and quickly closing the door behind her.

     "I take it delivering the news did not go well?"

     Ace laughed in frustration. "Yeah, you could say that. But," he paused for a moment, "I can't blame her. Hell, I'm angry at myself, how can I blame her for the same."

     Cat took off her coat and hung in on the back of the door before taking the seat opposite the XO's desk. "If it is any consolation, you are making the right choice. That is the simple truth."

     Ace walked over to the storage cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Scotch. He poured two glasses,  handing one to Cat before taking a swig himself. "No, it's the wrong choice, but it's the only one I have."

     "She will come around to understand it in time."

     Ace scoffed, "I'm not sure I understand it. But I understand that she sure as hell won't"

     Cat leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs before taking a long, slow drink of the Scotch, giving it ample time to slightly burn in her mouth. "Look, I know that I am the last person in all of the universe to comment on parental/child relationships. But I do know that girl well, and she will adapt."

     Ace took another drink from his glass. "She had a good teacher."

     Cat smirked slightly. "I taught her to pilot a mech. You two taught her how to be a good person. There is one hell of a difference."

     He appeared to think long and hard on his next words, and Cat was not inclined to rush him. "We both know that she is very much her mother's daughter. And so I've been asking myself, what would Faith have done if she were in this position 25 years ago. And the answer I'm left with, is that she would have gone after her mother."

     Cat looked him in the eye. "And so you are convinced that Acadia will also?"

     He met her gaze and she could see the resolution in his eyes. "Yes. I'd stake my life on it. And so I'm going to ask something of you, Cat. Probably the hardest thing I've ever asked."

     Cat preempted what she assumed he was going to say next. "Ace I can try to talk her out of it, but if she is determined, I am not sure what I can do to stop her that you cannot."

     He held up his hand to cut her off. "I'm not going to ask you to stop her. I'm going to ask you to go with her. Hear me out. She's young, she's brash, and she's bold. But she's also smart. She knows that she doesn't have the contacts or the skill set to pull off any kind of rescue mission on her own. But she knows someone who does. You."

     Cat was thrown for a loop with the direction the conversation had gone. She had never in a million years imagined that Ace would want her to go along with such a long shot of a plan. She took a moment to think and recover her wits. "I think you overestimate my abilities."

     He smiled. "No I don't. Look, I'm not saying it's easy. That's why I said it's the hardest thing I've ever asked of you. Odds are this is a one-way trip. And you should also know, there's a deadline. That planning session out there is a briefing on a new campaign set for July. One of the worlds being hit is Pleione. But it's not an invasion or a raid. It's a strike mission. They're going to go in, hit the Blakists on the ground and in space with everything they have, and jump out. We're talking WMD deployments here. If they've got Faith, they've got her in Thunder Rock. And that fortress is coming down. So.....you in?"

Test of Faith - Chapter Four

Test of Faith - Chapter Four

Fortress Thunder Rock
Pleione
Word of Blake Protectorate 
23 March, 3075


     Faith moved her arms and legs, more just because she could than anything else. After the deranged Word of Blake fanatic had left, the locks on the restraints binding her wrists and ankles to the chair had released. She was confused, frightened, and angry. She had assumed that the fanatical Blakists would interrogate, and probably torture her for information about the unit, Capellan force dispositions and the like, but this was far, far worse.

     Ever since the dawn of the Blakist Jihad, there had been rumors of prisoners being brainwashed and sent to fight for the Word. In the most famous incident, Colonel Fritz Donner had nearly wiped out a gathering of anti-Blakist leaders on Arc-Royal, and the rumors were that the Word had programmed him into doing so. But that's all they had been, rumors. Now she found herself here, face to face with a woman who was doubtless insane, who was intent on making her 'reclamation' very much a real thing.

     Pull it together, Faith. You just have to outlast them. Keep saying 'no' until it kills you, or you get rescued. After a few moments, she stood up and began walking around the room. There was no way out, of course, but just to explore the surroundings felt good. At least she was doing something. She rubbed her arm absentmindedly. The witch had injected her with something. There was nothing she could do about it except try to battle through whatever it was they had injected her with.

     After a few minutes, she started to notice a slight ringing in her ears, a mild sense of disorientation. She made her way to the chair and sat down, closed her eyes, and tried to focus on her breathing. Something was wrong. Her entire sense of equilibrium was wrong. She found herself gripping the arm rests of the chair trying to steady herself, even though she was seated. A moment later, she was so disoriented that she somehow fell out of the chair and onto the cold ferrocrete floor.

     A moment later, she felt a painful, wrenching spasm rip through her abdomen. Before long, her stomach and diaphragm were rocked by painful spasms and she vomited uncontrollably. Just as she would begin to relax and orient herself relative to the overhead light, she would be rocked by more spasms and vomiting. In the end, the disorientation overcame her, and she drifted into unconsciousness.

     She awoke curled in the fetal position on the floor. She had no idea how much time had passed. The cell had obviously been cleaned while she was unconscious, as the floor was free of any sign of her induced vomiting. She sat up on the floor and tried to get her bearings. She felt as if she had just awakened from a fever, with a kind of hangover effect. Her mouth was terribly dry.

     Then suddenly, the door opened and two guards entered, followed by the woman she had seen before. The second guard wheeled some sort of small cart in with him, but before Faith could examine it in any detail, the two guards picked her up off the floor and forced her into a kneeling position. The Blakist walked over to her. Rather than the seemingly formal robes she had worn yesterday, today she wore a rather simple white jumpsuit, adorned only with the downward facing broadsword insignia of the Word of Blake. "Symbolism surrounds us. We cannot escape it. No doubt you are feeling weak from all the purging last night. We purge ourselves to rid ourselves of excesses, and are left with that which is the strongest. Our time together today is short, Faith. But we embark on the first step of your journey of reclamation."

     One of the guards had wheeled the cart closer to where they had her kneeling. The Manei Domini looked deep into Faith's eyes, hers burning an artificial bright blue in contrast to the natural blue of Faith's eyes. "Let go of pride, vanity, pretentiousness. Let them fall away and realize your true potential as an instrument of the Word of Blake." The woman picked up an object from the cart. Faith kept her eyes locked on the Blakist's gaze. She heard a soft hum, and felt cold metal against her skin as the Precentor ran some kind of trimmer over her scalp. Her blonde locks fell to the floor, and after several more passes, her head had been shaven clean.

     She fought hard to control her breathing and her heart rate, not wanting to give the fanatic any satisfaction. The guards pulled her to her feet, and manacled her hands in front of her with a pair of relatively loose fitting cuffs connected by a solid bar of metal with a hole through the center. They forced her arms above her head and slipped the manacles over a rod protruding from the ceiling that she had not noticed before. A ring locked into place, securing the cuffs to the pole, ensuring that her arms remained over her head, locked at such a height that the soles of her feet still touched the floor.

     The Precentor gestured to the guards, and they both left the cell, the door sealing shut behind them. "We must cut away the false trappings that you have been bound by." As she spoke, she produced a rather ceremonial looking knife from her belt. Delicately, she took Faith's 4TCR tank top in one hand and slipped the knife between the fabric and Faith's skin with the blade facing outward and slit it open down the front. A few more quick slices to both straps and it came loose entirely, the Manei  Domini casting it to the floor. Using a similar, blade-outward motion, she slid the blade directly down the center of Faith's chest, the razor sharp blade cutting through the moisture-wicking fabric of her sports bra with ease. Two more cuts and it went the way of her tank top. Having stripped Faith to the waist, Eisheth walked around to stand directly behind her. She felt the cold steel of the blade against her skin again, and with a few slices, her captor was soon able to peel away her leggings, leaving her now totally naked and exposed.

     "Just as we cut away garments to lay bare the flesh, we will soon slice away the old notions that bind you to an outdated way of thinking and seeing. I will leave you for a time to ponder on that." As she left, the Precentor issued a series of commands with her thoughts.

     First, the lighting in the room increased to an almost blinding intensity, as if shining on Faith from every angle. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open against the intense flood of light.

      Secondly, the bar to which her manacles were attached retracted slightly, leaving her in somewhat of an awkward position. If she stood on her tip-toes, she could loosen the tension on her arms, chest, and back. If not, she hung suspended with incredible stress on her upper body. At first, she tried to alternate between the two positions, switching when one became too painful or taxing. But after a time, she could not sustain it any further. The temperature in the cell had dropped, tightening her muscles, and when she tried to stand on her toes, her calves burned with an excruciating pain.

     After a while, she began losing track of time. She knew she was sleepy, and her upper body was in pain, but she could not sleep. In the intense light, she began to see things, as if someone was appearing and disappearing suddenly as soon as they attracted her gaze. She felt as if hands were softly touching her at various times, and as she would try to wrest herself from the touch, the change in position would send more arcs of pain through her already screaming muscles.

     She was left to hang there in a terror world, neither sleep nor waking, tormented by slight figments of her imagination, and completely at the whims of her captors.

Test of Faith - Chapter Three

Test of Faith - Chapter Three

Fortress Thunder Rock
Pleione
Word of Blake Protectorate
22 March, 3075


     Manei Domini Poltergeist Demi-Precentor-Delta Eisheth stood on the command deck above the primary control center of the Thunder Rock facility. Her eyes were closed, but she was listening. She was monitoring all the pertinent situations unfolding, but keeping them in the background. The Capellan raiders were fleeing. The heretics had expected far less resistance than they met, and would be returning with their tails between their legs. All business with the planetary puppet government were running smoothly, which she took note of, as she left the daily interactions with the government and population to the Protectorate Militia Precentor in charge.

     A pre-set alert notified her that a file of particular interest had been accessed. She called the file up in her mind, barely even taxing her implanted Triple Core Processor. MCCARRON, FAITH ALEXANDRA had just been registered into the detention wing of the facility. She glanced over the file to refresh her memory. Subject female, 48 years of age, hair color blonde, eye color blue, height 1.67 meters. She had been something of an athlete in her youth before injuries forced her from competition. She had trained as a mechwarrior and risen quickly to prominence, both for her career in the field and her exploits on Solaris VII. Exceptional mechwarrior skills, but a quick temper. Never married. One child, daughter, Acadia, born 3050, also a mechwarrior.

     "Precentor Eisheth, you asked to be notified when your reclamation was ready. She is being taken to a cell now" The voice, though inaudible to all the world, nevertheless she heard. Linked directly to the fortress computer network, with her mind she reached out and found the cell number where the guards were taking her newest project. She was certain that this was one of which Apollyon and even The Master himself would be proud when she was done.

     Walking silently, passing through the hallways and corridors as if she were a ghost, virtually unnoticed by the dedicated personnel around her, she made her way quickly, but not hurriedly, to the detention wing. While security in the facility was heavy, she was beyond the need to show identification or credentials. Those were inconveniences of the world of the frails. The ascended had no use for such mundane obstacles. They were, just as the Master's vision had sought, virtually one with the technology around them. At times, she felt almost like a god, existing on a plane above all those frail humans around her. No, not a god, she reminded herself, simply a servant. A servant to destiny and the will of the Master.

     As she entered the cell, she continued to use unaugmented vision. She listened carefully, and could make out the rapid beat of the woman's heart. She could smell, almost taste the adrenaline and fear of a trapped creature, though as she came to stand in front of the woman and regarded her with normal vision, she could see that Faith was doing all she could to hide and control those things that Eisheth's Manei Domini senses had allowed her to pick up on. To her credit, Faith did not struggle in any futile attempt at a show of strength. Still, Eisheth could see the anger in the woman's eyes, as if she wanted to wrest herself free of the restraints and attack Eisheth on the spot. Good, your spirit is as strong as I imagined it would be. It shall be all the more rewarding to shatter it, tear it down, and refocus it in service to the divine will of Blake and the Master.

     She drew back the hood of her robe to afford her subject a look at her. She blinked her vision over to thermal to take in the heat of the anger and fear radiating off of the restrained mechwarrior. "Faith McCarron" She paused between each word, as if sizing up the woman before her. "Tell me, Faith, do you believe in coincidence? Are events guided by the blind hand of chance, or the steady hand of fate?"

     Faith kept her gaze locked on Eisheth. "What I know is that if by chance, you released me from this chair, I would kick your little cyborg ass."

     Eisheth smiled genuinely, and began to pace out a slow circle around her prisoner. "Your vitriol is unnecessary. I am not your enemy.

     Faith scoffed in response. "Am I supposed to sing Kumbaya before you start torturing me or something?"

     Eisheth continued her walk. Faith's heart rate remained high, in spite of her bravado. "I am not your jailer, your interrogator, or your torturer. I am here as your guide."

     "Well I hope you brought your 'A' game, because you're going to need it if you want anything out of me."

     Eisheth stopped her pacing, stepped towards Faith, and put her hand gently on the woman's shoulder. "I'm not asking anything of you. I'm not going to try to pry any precious secrets from you. I am not here for your interrogation, I am here for your reclamation."

     Faith looked away for a moment. "Is that some kind of code word for turning me into one of your zombies?"

     "Faith....it is a lovely name. And so fitting for our work here. Deep down, you and I want the same thing. We want humanity united in peace across the stars. That is the true vision of Blake's words. What I have is faith in those words, and in the Master's vision for bringing them about." She paused for a moment. "We all come to our faith in different ways. I grew up in what you callously would call the Chaos March. Governments abandoned me, nobles abandoned me, all the false institutions that heretics rely on abandoned me. But when my mother gave me over to the order as a child, she gave me the greatest gift she possibly could have. For when I joined the order, my eyes were opened to the uselessness of all of those things on the outside, the Marches and Commonalities and nobles and House Lords. We can only be lifted up by vision, true vision, and it has been there for us all along, since the sainted Blake laid it out in his Word."

     Faith struggled for the first time against her bonds. "Yeah well you have a funny way of showing it, sister. I fight for the Confederation, for my home. I've got nothing in common with you and your band of crazies.

     Eisheth continued to smile, "I asked earlier if you believe in chance or in fate. The reason I asked, is that because when your band of raiders touched down, we quickly identified your unit, and from the mechs, the likely roster. I looked it over, and none of the people stood out, none but you. You were the one that struck me as worthy of reclamation, and now, here you sit. I do not believe in coincidence."

     Faith shook her head. "You keep using that word, 'reclamation', you're not going to brainwash me."

     Eisheth took a deep breath. She still does not understand. "As I said before, we all come to our faith in different ways. I discovered mine of my own volition, through years of study. Yours is buried deep inside you. You know the wisdom of Blake's words, and that they are humanity's greatest hope. But all your life you have been trained to ignore it. You have been coerced by corrupt, impure systems and monarchs. You have built up walls and defenses to keep the truth locked away, so that you can go on pretending and living the farce that petty house lords would have you live. But now you are here, and guided by the wisdom of the Master and the blessed Apollyon, I will be your guide as we tear down those walls, shatter the false belief systems you have been shackled to, and open your eyes. You have many skills and talents, and when we have revealed your inner truth, they will be put to glorious use in serving the will of the Master."

     Faith started to laugh. "You are off your rocker, sister. If you expect me to believe any of that garbage, you have another thing coming. I'm not going to serve you or your crackpot master, and I'm not going to break, so you might as well kill me now."

     Eisheth caressed Faith's cheek softly. "I have no desire to kill you. And you will only be broken so far as it is necessary for you to be rebuilt and reborn."

     Faith pulled her head away at Eisheth's touch. "So I should just sit back, relax, and it's all going to be fine, right?"

     In her mind, Eisheth called up a file image of Faith's daughter. "You are going to be reborn, Faith. You are a mother, you know that with any birth there is pain. The same must be true here. But I can promise you that the reward will be far in excess of the burden."

     Eisheth reached into her robes and removed a syringe from an inner pocket. She removed the seal cap and gently pushed the needle into Faith's arm. "I must go, for a time. When I return, we shall begin the process of peeling back the barriers to your enlightenment."

     With that, she walked away and left the cell. As the door slid shut behind her, she activated the release for the restraints binding Faith to the chair. The drug she had just administered would take 12 hours to run it's full course. In the meantime, she would meditate on the great task of reclamation set before her.

   

Test of Faith - Chapter Two

Test of Faith - Chapter Two

Jezrael Desert

Pleione

Word of Blake Protectorate

22 March, 3075

 "Bring her," a female voice boomed over external speakers. The voice was cold and metallic from the speakers, but the sense of authority carried in the words somehow was not lost in the transmission. With those words, the Deva first, then the other omnis, turned and moved off, leaving Faith and the six-man battlearmor level II alone seemingly in the middle of the desert. She said nothing to them, and they said nothing in return. All they did was disarm her of her Python pistol, and then proceeded to wait.

     It seemed like an eternity waiting there alone amid the gently blowing sand. The battlearmor troopers kept an alert watch for any sign of trouble, but other than that, made no moves. The sound of the windswept sand was almost serene, punctuated only occasionally by the soft whirring of some component or other on the armored infantrymen who stood guard over her. She had started to let her mind relax slightly to the soft sounds, when suddenly, the telltale sound of a hovercraft could be heard approaching. A few seconds later, the craft came into view, kicking up clouds of sand as it stopped.

     Four infantrymen disembarked from the side hatch that swung open, and they quickly made their way over to where she was still kneeling in the sand. Two of the soldiers grabbed her by the arms and helped her up before leading her over to and then into the hovercraft. With all the unarmored infantry back aboard, the hovercraft sped away to wherever it was going.

     Faith didn't look up at any of the four guards in the vehicle. For an instant, her mind thought of escape, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Though this would undoubtedly be her best chance at escape in who knew how long, the odds of her overpowering the four troopers were depressingly small. No, there would be no quick escape. She was going to have to tough this one out, and hope that a chance for escape or rescue would come in it's own good time.

     She spent the rest of the trip in silence, and after several minutes, she could feel the vehicle coming to a stop once again. The guards ushered her out, and she found herself in some kind of vehicle loading and offloading bay. There were vehicles of all sorts, most returning, some damaged, and a small army of techs crawling over the place. Her captors led her through a maze of hallways and corridors, twice using a lift car, to the point that she had absolutely no sense of how large the facility was. Judging from the walls, which cosmetically displayed an air of Star League about them, she had to be in Fortress Thunder Rock, a Star League era facility that had survived and was the military hub of the desert world during it's days under Capellan rule, and now clearly also under Blakist rule as well.

     There were robed Word of Blake personnel everywhere, seeming to scurry this way and that. Finally, they reached a set of doors, which hissed open to reveal a small room with another set of doors on the opposing wall. Off to the left was a small desk, behind which a robed adept sat, while two guards in gray jumpsuits stood in front of her. The two infantrymen who had escorted her this far let go of her arms, passing her off to the new guards. These new guards, she could tell, weren't combat soldiers, but security personnel. One of the guards grabbed her forearm and led her the few steps to the desk, took her hand and pressed her thumb against a small sensor pad.

     Almost instantly, the holodisplay in front of the robed Blakist sitting behind the desk flashed to life with a flurry of files. She could see her picture, her CCAF ID photo from the look of it, and the header MCCARRON, FAITH ALEXANDRA, but couldn't read any more. It was only natural that the Blakists had a file on her, after all, they had been running the HPG networks in the Confederation for over almost two decades before the white-out. The amount of data they must have had on her just from that was probably enough, not even factoring in any work that their ROM agents had done.

     Whatever the desk clerk was doing, after a moment, he seemed satisfied and nodded to the guards. "Peace of Blake be with you, and may we reclaim all to the blessed Word." She felt like screaming some obscenities at him, but she knew it would do no good. No, here, she had to be a survivor. The guards led her through the second set of doors, which opened to a small enclosure, an almost airlock-like set up. One of the guards helped her out of her cooling vest, while the other unbuckled and removed her empty gunbelt. They gestured to a small ledge on one side of the small space, just about the right height to serve as a bench. "Take off your boots". She sat down on the ledge and proceeded to unlace her knee-length boots, realizing that this was the first time in quite a while that any of the Blakists had addressed her at all. She stood the boots up on the floor, then neatly tucked her socks, which she had removed as well, into them, then raised her gaze towards the guards, who gestured for her to stand up. She was now clad only in her black form-fitting leggings and matching athletic-type bra which were both made of a durable moisture wicking and heat transferring fabric, and her 4TCR tank top.

     They led her through the opposing set of doors, which hissed shut with a disturbing degree of finality behind them. The steel floor was cold beneath her now bare feet, almost comfortably so. They led her down a long corridor with more doors on the walls than she could count. It was at this point that she noticed the aesthetics had changed. Gone were the familiar Star League vibes, replaced with a sense of cold darkness.

     None of the doors were marked, and she had no idea what differentiated the door they stopped at from any other. The guard on her left hit a button on the panel next to the door, and the door opened with a slight hiss. The room they led her into seemed spacious, probably because there was only a single chair in the entirety of the room. So this is your Word of Blake torture chamber, she thought to herself. The guards led  her to the chair and sat her down in it. They quickly fastened restraints at her wrists and ankles which seemed to use some kind of magnetic locking system. Then, without saying a word, they left, and the door hissed shut behind them.

     She tried to take stock of her surroundings. The lighting was somewhat dim, but she could make out the four bare walls around her. The way that the light shone down from above her made it hard to see the ceiling, and the ferrocrete floor was barren except for a single drain that she was just able to see beneath her chair. All she could do was sit there and wait. It was annoying. She could feel her tension rising with the passing moments, like waiting in an empty room at a doctor's office for the doctor to come in.

     After what seemed like an eternity, she jumped, startled slightly as the door opened. The chair was situated facing away from the door, so she could not get a good look at the person entering at first. She heard the sound of the persons boots on the floor, before a robed figure walked around her and stopped a few meters in front of her. The woman pulled back the hood of her robe, and the lighting in the room seemed to increase a small amount. The woman standing in front of her seemed, at first glance, quite normal. Her Word of Blake styled robes were white, trimmed in a deep red that matched her hair, which was pulled back in a severe ponytail. She was striking, even beautiful, yet something about her was off. Her eyes glowed with an almost unnatural blue hue.

     "Faith McCarron", the woman paused almost unnaturally between saying Faith's name aloud. "Tell me, Faith, do you believe in coincidence? Are events guided by the blind hand of chance, or the steady hand of fate?" As she spoke, she blinked slowly, an almost unnatural, cat-like gesture. When her eyes opened, they shone a fiery shade of red.

Test of Faith - Chapter One

Test of Faith - Chapter One

Jezrael Desert

Pleione

Word of Blake Protectorate

22 March, 3075

     "We're about two minutes from getting cut off from the drop zone, guys. I don't know about you, but I don't want to end up left behind in this pile of rocks. Disengage as fast as you can." Faith barked the orders over the company frequency, but there wasn't a company left. The raid hadn't been a total disaster, but things had started to go south quickly. She and her company had spent the last six hours in a fighting retreat across the desert in an attempt to get back to their dropship. Unfortunately, from out of nowhere, the Word of Blake Militia forces had been bolstered by a level II of OmniMechs that she suspected were a Manei Domini formation.

     They had whittled her unit down along the way, and now she could only field five mechs in addition to her Grasshopper. "They're on us too tight, there's no way we can turn and flank out of here." She heard the anxious voice of one of her mechwarriors over the comm as she checked the tactical display. The Blakists were indeed to close, and too fast. The fighting withdrawal was slowing the Capellans down, but if they turned and made for the dropship at full speed, the Blakists would tear them apart.

     She couldn't shake the sinking feeling in her stomach as she realized what she had to do. Her surviving machines were all fast mediums. They could outpace her even at a full clip. The extraction zone was hot, and they didn't have much time, but if they pushed their machines to the max, they could reach it before the dropship had to lift off with the rest of the raiding force. All except her Grasshopper, which couldn't keep pace, and would only slow them down.

     She brought her machine to a halt near a small rock outcropping. "Ok guys, listen up. I want you all to turn tail and run balls to the wall to the extraction point. Understand? I'll speed-bump the robes long enough to give you guys a clear shot."

     A chorus of protests came over the comm, but she dismissed them all. "I know what I'm doing. And you know what you have to do. Now move before I turn around and start shooting at you guys!" She knew they didn't like it. She knew they would prefer a final stand. But that wasn't the best option here. There was no need for them to die, not just to save her ass. But they followed orders, and made for the dropship as fast as their mechs could take them.

     I guess this is it, the end of the line. I have to admit, I never thought my end would come facing madmen alone on some desert. She knew the Blakists would be on her any second. She would go down fighting. But she would never know how this Jihad would end. Would the Confederation survive? Would her friends and comrades survive? For that matter, would humanity survive this massive conflagration that threatened to tear everything mankind had built to pieces? Would her daughter survive?

     A PPC bolt ripped her from her daydream. It slammed into her mech's right shoulder with a crash. As if the PPC shot had been a signal, Word of Blake mechs appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She focused fire on a Preta that stood in front of her, savaging it with an alpha strike that tore gaping holes in its armor, but did not fell the mech. The heat from the alpha strike washed over her, forcing her to blink away the disorientation. More hits rocked her mech, too many to count or differentiate from where they came. Her damage readout paper doll lit up like a Christmas tree of red.

     She pulled the trigger for another alpha, heedless of the heat at this point, but only two of her pulse lasers responded. A 70-ton Deva stepped between her and her target and absorbed the blast, moving faster and with more agility than a mech that size should have. It stopped for a second, as if taking her in, then gestured with it's left-arm blade towards her mech.

     At that instant, she noticed the tiny forms of battlearmored troops around the Deva's feet. Their mimetic armor had obscured them from her view until now. Several of them raised their weapons and fired at her.

     Suddenly, the systems in her mech blinked brightly for an instant, and then suddenly went out. All her displays were blank, the hum of the fusion reactor could be heard shutting down. She smashed the override button, but to no avail. Somehow, her mech was dead.

     She could only watch as the six battlearmor troopers scurried towards her striken mech, and began scaling it. She pulled her neurohelmet off and threw it as hard as she could to the cockpit floor. There was nothing she could do. Either the battlearmor troopers were going to crack her cockpit and kill her, or she was going to end up a prisoner to these madmen who were destroying the Inner Sphere. Her hand rested for a second on the handle of her Sternsnacht Python. It would do nothing to the armored battlesuits coming for her, but for a brief moment, she entertained the thought of using it to end everything right then and there, killing herself before being captured. No, that's giving up. That's punching out. If this is the end, then they have to force it.

     After a few seconds of the terrible sound of wrenching, screeching metal, the cockpit hatch was suddenly torn away, the desert air entering the cockpit. One trooper pointed his weapon at her, and she thought for an instant that he was going to fire. Instead, he gestured for her to get up out of her command couch. She unbuckled herself and started to stand, but as she did so, the trooper grabbed her arm with the articulated hand of his suit and pulled her free.

     For a moment, she thought the trooper was going to fling her to the ground like a ragdoll, but instead, he used the strength of the suit to hold her while he jumped clear of the mech, feathering his jump jets for a smooth landing. When the reached the ground, he forced her to her knees. As the desert wind swept her tangled hair around her face and provided some sense of cool as it passed over the beads of sweat on her skin, she was aware of a sound now that she was free of the confines of her mech. She glanced behind her in the direction of the noise, and she could see an Overlord class dropship burning it's way out from the planet. The rest of the Rangers had escaped.

Pozoristu Mountain Range
Tukayyid
Free Rasalhague Republic
26 April, 3050



     "Something tells me this is a bad idea," Faith was more musing to herself, but still keyed it over the company-wide channel. The 1st Company of the 4th Tau Ceti Rangers was carefully maneuvering their way through a series of steep valleys and ravines in the Pozoristu mountain range. Her tactical map read blank, and there were no enemy contacts on her HUD, yet something felt wrong.

     "Stay tight through Echo three," came Orkdung's reply. The scouts ahead hadn't yet run afoul of any enemy forces, but ECM had been thick through the early goings of the battle. So far, the battle had gone well. After meeting fairly stiff initial resistance, her lance had kept a steady pace through the first day's fighting. Then they had linked up with the Tikonov Rangers in force, and had smashed through the lead elements of Clan Wolf. Things had gone well, almost too well.

     At the moment, they were moving through a fairly narrow canyon, and she had her King Crab's throttle pushed into the high range as she and Ace led the formation of the heavier elements of the company. There was barely enough room for the two King Crabs to walk abreast.

     "This is the perfect place for-" her words trailed off as some of her readouts briefly flickered. The diminished signal strength of her sensors barely had time to register when lasers seemed to erupt from every angle. Her damage readout had already started to change color, but she could not afford to keep her eyes on it, instead letting her vision dart around for the closest, and greatest threat.

     She thumbed the trigger for her autocannons a brief instant before her comrade on the left did, and the combined hail of shells from the two assault machines tore into a Timber Wolf directly ahead. The combined 50mm and 20mm slugs savaged the Clan Wolf machine, but it still seemed to take an eternity to die. Each second of it's life, her heat crept higher, and the laser vomit from it's compatriots melted away at her armor. Finally, the Clan machine fell, but she had no time to cool off. There seemed to be Timberwolves and Stormcrows everywhere in her field of vision.

     Her pulse quickened and the soaring cockpit heat smashed into her as she swung her guns to the nearest Timber Wolf. She felt her aim rock slightly as an almost unbelievable number of missiles, hurled from the Stormcrow just to the right of her target, peppered her mech and tried to knock it backwards. She fought momentum and struggled to keep her aim true as the Timber Wolf added it's lasers to the fight. In spite of the fact that the rounds from her autocannons tore through the armor and internal structures of her prey, the Wolf stayed alive, twisting it's fresh side to face her onslaught.

     Just then, the second volley of SRM's from the Stormcrow struck her, and she saw the indicator on one of her small-bore ACs wink out. She kept firing through the damage, and through the warnings calmly announced by her mech's computer begging her to allow time for the cooling system to bleed some of the massive amounts of heat that were threatening to overwhelm her machine. The laser volley from her target cut out midstream, and she watched the clanner mech twist and slump to the ground, finally subdued. The mental timer in her head made her brace for what she expected would be a third salvo of missiles from the streak Crow, but it never came, as a seemingly ungodly stream of blue laser fire from behind her almost evaporated the sickly looking omnimech.

     She started to twist her torso to the right to search for her next target, and to find and thank whichever of the laser boats to her rear had helped her by demolishing the streak machine, when the Gauss round struck. Time seemed to freeze for an instant, her vision blurring and everything seemingly fell silent for an instant. She felt an impact, and started to black out by the time the metallic thud of the enemy round reached her ears. She blacked out for an instant, then her senses sprung suddenly to life in time to see a blur of color in front of her and to feel the most intense pain jolt through her left side. Time seemed to proceed excruciatingly slowly, and all she could focus on was the sound of groaning metal and the sensation that some demon was sucking every last molecule of air from her lungs.

     For her last instant of consciousness, all she could think to herself was "It can't end here..."



Dropship Yong Huo
Tukayyid System
Free Rasalhague Republic
6 May, 3050



     Faith could hear a shrill beeping, and her only thought was that she wanted to kill it. For what seemed like hours she tried to kill it with her mind, but it kept going. Then slowly, she became aware of her heartbeat. It was slow and steady, almost too slow. Then the beeping. Then she realized that the two were in sync.

     She told herself that she had to open her eyes. She struggled for a moment trying to open them, before realizing that they were already open and she was blinking furiously against a harsh, artificial light. She tried to cry out, but all she could muster was a soft moaning sound.

     "Relax, it's ok, just relax, Lieutenant," a female voice tried to reassure her. She struggled to move, but was unaware if she succeded or not. She was still disoriented. She could hear the voice again, but couldn't make out any of the words.

     Then suddenly, she was aware of staring into the spectacle-rimmed eyes of  Doctor Ling. Doctor Melissa Ling was one of the Ranger's permanent medical staff, and had been with the unit since before Faith had joined up.

     "Just try to relax. Your system has had quite a shock. Take your time to get your bearings."

     Faith closed her eyes for a moment, trying to focus, before opening them again. "Where are we?"

     "You're back on the Yong Huo. We're still in-system at Tukayyid. You've been out for over a week. You took some pretty bad injuries, and there was some slight brain swelling, so we've kept you under to be on the safe side. You also broke a couple of ribs. Your cockpit was breached, by a gauss round I think they said."

      If she had been out for over a week, that meant the battle must have been over by now. The last thing she could remember was they were only a few days in. That could only mean she missed most of the fight. Part of her wanted to slam her fist into something, and her arm moved slightly, enough to make her aware of the IV still inserted in it.

     "The battle?" she asked. She had to know the outcome. Had they won or lost? What happened in the canyon? Was anyone else still alive?

     "The battle is over. Our side lost in the end." As Faith started to try to sit up, the doctor anticipated her reaction and laid a hand on her shoulder to forestall any attempt. "I'm not the person to give you details about the inner workings of it. The unit is banged up pretty bad, but the command staff and the officers are all ok. In fact, they've been stopping by pretty regularly to check on you. In time, I'm sure you'll get all the details of what happened, but for now, you need to rest. It's going to be a long trip home, you'll have plenty of time."

     A long trip home indeed...

   

Stratford
Avon
Irece Prefecture, Pesht Military District
Draconis Combine
15 April, 3050

     The bar was dark, as it seemed most were anymore, but this one was lit mostly by candles. Or some approximation of candles.  Faith had to admit, the decor in here was fairly impressive. The surfaces reflected the light from the candles in a way that, while dim, still set an ambiance of wealth and status. This was no dive. The tables were fairly ornate, the carvings visible through their glass tops. The spacious bar itself had a solid dark wood top which gave an air of stability to the entire establishment.

     The female waitstaff deftly moved among the customers like a choreographed dance, ensuring that no patron wanted for food or drink any longer than was necessary. The three bartenders behind the bar moved efficiently, but with an air of style about them as they served drinks to the patrons who chose the bar over the myriad of tables throughout the room.

     Faith made her way to an empty seat at the bar, smiling subtly at the sidelong glances and hushed whispers that accompanied her entrance. From her quick survey of the room, the information in the briefing had been correct. The bar was filled almost entirely with DCMS officers, with a few civilians sprinkled in, probably important figures in the local community. And they were almost exclusively men.

     If she had thought the Confederation was a patriarchal society, it certainly had nothing on the Draconis Combine. In the brief time that they had already spent in Combine space, she had already nearly tussled with more than a few misogynistic DCMS officers, and it was beginning to get on her nerves. She had always avoided the Kobe district during her days on Solaris, and now she remembered why.

     The cultural briefing had described this bar as one of the best, but had also noted that it catered to the Combine elite. Mercenaries were certainly encouraged to stay away, and to frequent the lower class establishments in the poorer district of the capital city. Such information, of course, had been like blood to a shark with Faith, and as soon as the unit had gotten their gear stored and secured at their temporary barracks, she had set out to find this place.

     And that was how she found herself sitting at the bar, sporting her field jacket which bore the patches both of the 4th Tau Ceti Rangers and the House of Lords stable. This was the bar for the elite, and she considered herself such.

     After several minutes with no service, she finally piped up. "Barkeep! What's a girl gotta do to get a drink in this place?"

     The bartenders each shot her a nervous glance, and then their eyes darted towards a man standing further back at the bar, almost at the doors to the rear area. He was Japanese, likely in his late forties, impeccably groomed and clothed in a suit that absolutely screamed money. If he wasn't the owner, he was at least some kind of big shot. She locked eyes with him. He stood motionless for a time, before slowly making his way over to where Faith sat.

     "In this establishment, decorum is important. I ask that you not raise your voice." Without looking, she knew that the attention of the room, be it overt or subtle, had shifted to their conversation.

     "And I would ask for a drink, but your staff seems...inattentive."

     "Yes, well I am sure there are many establishments where a person such as yourself might get a drink far more quickly, miss...?" The disrespect in his tone was glaring.

     "McCarron. Lady McCarron. And I'm here at this establishment. I didn't see a sign on the door telling me to keep out. Maybe you should think about hiring a bouncer."

     By now, several of the DCMS officers in the room had stood up and made their way over to the bar, crowding around her. "Here in the Combine, there is no need for such things, people know their place and need not be reminded of it. Perhaps it is different where your kind of people come from, but here, we have respect.

     "Yeah, well you might want to work on that. There are some Clans kicking your front door in, and you need help from outside the little boys club to keep them out." She knew the clan reference would raise the hackles of all of the Combine soldiers around her, but she threw it in anyway.

     One of them, a Captain, or whatever the Kurita equivalent was, took the bait. "We are keeping the Clan out with our steadfast devotion to the coordinator. We do not need your sell-swords. There was a time when the Coordinators words were 'Death to Mercenaries'. And while I do not recall any of us placing an order for a woman to come here to sell her...services, we would be happy to entertain you. I see you come from the Capellan Confederation, no doubt your rates are cheap enough."

     That was all she needed. The Drac was not expecting her punch, and the blow caught him squarely in the face, sending him reeling. The crowd that had gathered around her stepped back quickly, as stools clattered to the floor. The Kuritan replied with a punch-drunken swing at her which she easily deflected, sending him sprawling on the floor.

     She started to turn to face the crowd, but she was interrupted by a sharp blow to the right side of her head. She didn't know where it came from, but it sent her vision spiraling into chaos. The next few minutes were a jumbled blur of double vision, blows given and received, and a sea of disorientation. She vaguely remembered being manhandled, and feeling the cool outside air on her face, before a sharp crack sent her into unconsciousness.

     The next thing she remembered was gasping, the shock and confusion of awakening in an unfamiliar environment. She sat bolt upright, as someone had thrown a bucket of extremely cold water on her face to snap her awake. It took her a few seconds of spitting and sputtering to gain her bearings, and she was aware that she was sitting on some kind of cheap cot. The room was still spinning somewhat, but she made out the form of a man in uniform holding a bucket, clearly the villain that had brought her back to consciousness. As she blinked away the cobwebs in her vision, she realized she was in a cell, and that three men stood just inside the door. She relaxed, recognizing Orkdung, Ace, and Vandril.

     "Morning boys. How was your night?"