Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
3 February, 3150
Count Gunnar Logan sat straight in his chair, facing the holoprojector in his office, which currently displayed a standby message. Off to the side, out of sight of the camera, Freyja stood in her mechwarrior leggings, top, and combat boots, with a parka over it but unzipped. Her golden hair was meticulously braided and hung over her left shoulder, a stern, firm expression on her face as Gunnar nodded to her.
A few seconds later, the stubble-covered face of Raiden Trogg appeared on the other end of the holo screen. He gave a mischievous smile. "Mr. Logan, I trust that arrangements for my visit are in order?"
Gunnar fought back his disdain for the villain and smiled. "Indeed, Mr. Trogg. The drop port is standing by for your arrival. I trust my payment arrived without incident?"
Trogg nodded. "All verified. I see you even threw in a bonus."
Gunnar cocked his head slightly. "Just making sure everything is smooth between us. I don't like disruption to my routine."
The pirate leader spread his hands wide. "You're all payed up, Count. Just my kind of citizen. I'll bring a couple of wenches by that I picked up at the last....inspection we made of a passenger liner that drifted too close to our patch of space. Maybe you and I can break 'em in a little, I hear you're one for the ladies."
Though he could see the anger seething off of Freyja, her fists clenched, Gunnar gave no outward sign. "Of course. Once things get settled. Just a friendly word of warning, you might want to be prepared to ride out hot once you land. My people here in the capital are all settled and know their place, but word is some of the rabble out further in the countryside aren't too happy with your rates and are spoiling for a fight."
Trogg burst out laughing. "Well, I guess it's nice to see some of them have balls. Might be sporting to shoot them up a bit. I'll handle it. I guess I'll see you after I swat them!" Trogg's image dissolved in laughter.
Logan stood up and walked over to Freyja. Her expression was grim. "I'm going to kill that bastard, Gunnar. I swear."
Gunnar nodded and put his hand on her shoulder. "I know you will. Just save some for the rest of us, okay?"
She chuckled and nodded, and they made their way together toward the large bay where the resistance mechs were all waiting. As they walked, she gave him a sidelong glance. "Ask you something?" she waited until he nodded before she continued. "Ever since you pulled me out of the river, you've looked at me....I don't know....differently somehow. Is everything alright between us? I mean, I know I apologized for not trusting you. I hope that's not going to get in the way of things with us."
He ran a hand through his dark auburn hair. "It's nothing like that. I know you've been under a lot of stress, more than I can imagine, lately. We're fine. I promise."
She paused and faced him as they reached the doors leading to the mech bay. "What is it then? Something is different."
He looked to the side and inhaled deeply before meeting her gaze. "Ask me when this is all over, and we'll talk about everything. You have my word."
She locked her eyes with his, as if trying to measure his soul somehow. Finally she nodded. "Alright. I guess that just means we both have to make it out of this mess alive."
He smiled, and she thought she detected just a hint of relief in his expression. "Deal."
They entered the bay, and passed several motionless war machines until they reached a Phoenix Hawk and a Hatchetman standing side by side. She caught sight of Peter Bakker making his way over towards one of the converted industrial mechs. "Master Peter," she called out, waiting until he turned and spotted her, then jogged over in his own mechwarrior gear to where the two of them stood. "You're heading the wrong way, Master Peter. Your family Hawk is right here."
He looked at her with a puzzled expression for a moment. "I thought you were going to pilot it. You've got way more experience than I do."
She smiled softly and reached out a hand to rest on the boy's shoulder. "But it's your family's mech. It's your mech. Besides, after recent events, this Hatchetman over here has turned out to be without a pilot, and we can't have that. So you better get the Hawk warmed up."
His smile could have melted the planetary ice caps. She was about to send him off, and Gunnar off to his Black Knight, when another voice spoke up from behind her. "Don't you run off just yet either, young lady."
She turned to face Ned Bakker, with his wife at his side. "What are you doing here, sir? I thought you would be off making sure everything was battened down and in order back at the estate."
He nodded as he pulled an envelope out of his jacket. "Aye, we will be shortly. We'll catch a ride back and make sure Madeline is safe, and all the staff is buttoned up tight in case things go crazy. But there was one thing we had to do before we left." He handed the envelope to her.
She looked at it quizzically. "What is it?"
He looked at Clarissa, then back at Freyja. "They're your official documents of manumission. It's your legal release from any and all slavery contracts in the Lothian League and Marian Hegemony. Officially signed and filed this morning at the capital building."
She looked at the two of them, then at Gunnar, then back to the Bakkers. "I don't understand, I mean, you didn't have to."
Ned took Clarissa's hand. "Yes, we did. You've already done more for our family than you'd ever need to in order to earn it. And now you're going to go out and fight for us and a whole lot of other people. We can't ask you to do that as anything other than a free woman."
She stood with her mouth slightly open for a moment, then jumped forward to wrap both of them in a hug. "Thank you. I will do right by the both of you. I promise."
After a few seconds, they finally released each other. It was Clarissa who then spoke up. "Just come back in one piece. Drive those scum off, and come home safe."
Monday, April 8, 2019
Sunday, April 7, 2019
Forging Freyja - Chapter 12.1
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
31 January, 3150
The doctor closed the door behind him, and Gunnar Logan, Ned, and Clarissa Bakker all stood expectantly as he walked toward them. He nodded reassuringly at them.
"She is going to be alright. She is sleeping now and we have her on fluids. Her core temperature is fine, and her oxygen levels seem to be normal. It appears that you got her out and recovered in time. We've done only preliminary tests, but it looks as though she avoided any permanent damage. It's too early to tell how it will affect her condition, but other than that, she will be fine."
The three of them looked at each other confusedly. It was Gunnar who spoke up. "What condition are you referring to?"
The doctor looked puzzled for a moment, then seemed to retreat into himself. "I may have said too much. Just know, she will be ok." He patted Gunnar on the shoulder and left. The three assembled people glanced back and forth at each other.
"Does anyone know what he's talking about?" Gunnar asked. The Bakkers shook their heads in the negative.
After a few moments of confused discussions, Clarissa Bakker, it was decided, would take a glance at Freyja's medical chart that sat outside the door to the hospital room where she lay sound asleep. After glancing over the papers for a few moments, the former combat medic returned and pulled the two men closer.
"They did all sorts of routine blood tests. When a few of them returned elevated results, they ordered another round. The second round included one that shows an elevated level of hormones indicative of pregnancy."
None of them spoke at first. Finally it was Gunnar who broke the silence. "How far along is she?"
Clarissa thought for a moment before responding. "Based on the levels, she's very early on, probably 6 to 8 weeks. That would put conception about a month ago, maybe a little more. Probably around Christmas." She paused and looked at Ned. Gunnar caught the look, but remained confused.
"Why wouldn't she have told me about this?" he asked.
"She probably doesn't even know yet herself, Gunnar. I'm sure she would have told you if she did." something in Clarissa's tone left Gunnar uneasy. He looked back and forth between the two Bakkers.
"There's something else, isn't there? What's wrong?" he demanded.
Clarissa Bakker touched his arm. "Gunnar, you have to understand, it's reasonable that she might not have wanted to tell you."
He narrowed his eyes. "Tell me what? I didn't know there was anyone else, but it doesn't matter."
"Two days after the Solstice Ball, Raiden Trogg came to our estate to levy his new payment requirements. He came with two battlemechs, he practically held the house hostage. He stayed the night, and in that time..." she paused. "He attacked Freyja."
Gunnar clenched his jaw. "Attacked her? You mean...."
Clarissa nodded. "She didn't talk about what exactly happened with any of us. But it's safe to assume that yes, he raped her."
Gunnar pulled away from her grip and slammed his hand against the wall, eliciting glances from several of the nearby staff. He breathed angrily for several seconds before turning to the Bakkers again. "So what you're saying is that she's laying in there now, probably not knowing that there's a child growing inside her, and we don't even know who the father is? It could be me, or that bastard of a pirate that's going to drop on us in a few days time? How the hell do we break this to her?"
After another long pause, Ned Bakker spoke up. "We don't." Clarissa and Gunnar both stared at him.
"What do you mean we don't? How can we not?" Gunnar asked in disbelief.
Ned put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Listen to me. You've not been in combat before, have you?" When Gunnar nodded a negative, Ned continued. "From what she tells me, she's only been in combat once. And now, in two days time, she's going to be leading people into battle with the fate of all of us at stake. She's been through too much already, and now you're going to spring on her not only that she has to worry about another life other than her own, but that for all we know, the father may be the very scum who's out there shooting back at her? You put those sort of distractions on her, she is liable to crack. At the very least, she's likely to hesitate in battle, and that's liable to get her hurt or killed."
Gunnar shook his head in frustration. "Is there any way to determine paternity this early?"
Clarissa shook her head. "On a core world, at a top hospital, yes. But here, not for a good month or two."
He paced back and forth for several anxious minutes. He stopped at the door to her room and peered in through the glass, watching her chest rise and fall rhythmically with her breathing. "If she finds out that we held this back from her, she will never forgive us. You realize that?"
Ned Bakker placed his hand on Gunnar's shoulder. "But at least she'll be alive to hold a grudge."
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
31 January, 3150
The doctor closed the door behind him, and Gunnar Logan, Ned, and Clarissa Bakker all stood expectantly as he walked toward them. He nodded reassuringly at them.
"She is going to be alright. She is sleeping now and we have her on fluids. Her core temperature is fine, and her oxygen levels seem to be normal. It appears that you got her out and recovered in time. We've done only preliminary tests, but it looks as though she avoided any permanent damage. It's too early to tell how it will affect her condition, but other than that, she will be fine."
The three of them looked at each other confusedly. It was Gunnar who spoke up. "What condition are you referring to?"
The doctor looked puzzled for a moment, then seemed to retreat into himself. "I may have said too much. Just know, she will be ok." He patted Gunnar on the shoulder and left. The three assembled people glanced back and forth at each other.
"Does anyone know what he's talking about?" Gunnar asked. The Bakkers shook their heads in the negative.
After a few moments of confused discussions, Clarissa Bakker, it was decided, would take a glance at Freyja's medical chart that sat outside the door to the hospital room where she lay sound asleep. After glancing over the papers for a few moments, the former combat medic returned and pulled the two men closer.
"They did all sorts of routine blood tests. When a few of them returned elevated results, they ordered another round. The second round included one that shows an elevated level of hormones indicative of pregnancy."
None of them spoke at first. Finally it was Gunnar who broke the silence. "How far along is she?"
Clarissa thought for a moment before responding. "Based on the levels, she's very early on, probably 6 to 8 weeks. That would put conception about a month ago, maybe a little more. Probably around Christmas." She paused and looked at Ned. Gunnar caught the look, but remained confused.
"Why wouldn't she have told me about this?" he asked.
"She probably doesn't even know yet herself, Gunnar. I'm sure she would have told you if she did." something in Clarissa's tone left Gunnar uneasy. He looked back and forth between the two Bakkers.
"There's something else, isn't there? What's wrong?" he demanded.
Clarissa Bakker touched his arm. "Gunnar, you have to understand, it's reasonable that she might not have wanted to tell you."
He narrowed his eyes. "Tell me what? I didn't know there was anyone else, but it doesn't matter."
"Two days after the Solstice Ball, Raiden Trogg came to our estate to levy his new payment requirements. He came with two battlemechs, he practically held the house hostage. He stayed the night, and in that time..." she paused. "He attacked Freyja."
Gunnar clenched his jaw. "Attacked her? You mean...."
Clarissa nodded. "She didn't talk about what exactly happened with any of us. But it's safe to assume that yes, he raped her."
Gunnar pulled away from her grip and slammed his hand against the wall, eliciting glances from several of the nearby staff. He breathed angrily for several seconds before turning to the Bakkers again. "So what you're saying is that she's laying in there now, probably not knowing that there's a child growing inside her, and we don't even know who the father is? It could be me, or that bastard of a pirate that's going to drop on us in a few days time? How the hell do we break this to her?"
After another long pause, Ned Bakker spoke up. "We don't." Clarissa and Gunnar both stared at him.
"What do you mean we don't? How can we not?" Gunnar asked in disbelief.
Ned put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Listen to me. You've not been in combat before, have you?" When Gunnar nodded a negative, Ned continued. "From what she tells me, she's only been in combat once. And now, in two days time, she's going to be leading people into battle with the fate of all of us at stake. She's been through too much already, and now you're going to spring on her not only that she has to worry about another life other than her own, but that for all we know, the father may be the very scum who's out there shooting back at her? You put those sort of distractions on her, she is liable to crack. At the very least, she's likely to hesitate in battle, and that's liable to get her hurt or killed."
Gunnar shook his head in frustration. "Is there any way to determine paternity this early?"
Clarissa shook her head. "On a core world, at a top hospital, yes. But here, not for a good month or two."
He paced back and forth for several anxious minutes. He stopped at the door to her room and peered in through the glass, watching her chest rise and fall rhythmically with her breathing. "If she finds out that we held this back from her, she will never forgive us. You realize that?"
Ned Bakker placed his hand on Gunnar's shoulder. "But at least she'll be alive to hold a grudge."
Saturday, April 6, 2019
Forging Freyja - Sassy Valkyrie Interlude
Authors note: I first got the idea for the sassy Valkyrie interlude a while back, and used it in one of my Faith stories, and I've been itching to write another one since. I like taking the idea of a near death experience and flipping it on it's head. What if, instead of all somber and serious, we had a near death experience where there was a sassy sarcastic Valkryie giving us the business? As always, I leave it up to the reader to decide, is this just a product of our girl's imagination, or are there really Valkyries out there taking fallen warriors to Valhalla, albeit with a sassy and sarcastic twist? I know it might not be for everyone, but I really hope you enjoy.
Freyja didn't really wake up, so much as she became aware of her own consciousness slowly. She found herself walking through a dimly lit stone corridor, the cold of the stone floor pressing against her bare feet with each step. She was wearing a flowing white dress, and continued walking forward for what seemed like ages. Finally a voice snapped her to focus. Against the wall ahead of her, a strikingly beautiful woman leaned against the wall, dressed to perfection in snug fitting jeans, silver heels, and a blouse that had an almost metallic shimmer to it as the light caught it. Her face seemed somehow perfectly made up, yet devoid of makeup at the same time in some impossible way.
"You McCarron girls are a bitch, let me tell you," she frowned.
Freyja stopped and stared at the woman. Her mind was racing, there was too much to process. She had just been running for her life, then she remembered cold, and now this. Nothing made sense.
The woman put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, I know, you're confused, yada yada. I wish just once in my life I would get a call where the girl had a grasp of what was going on. But, I guess it's an imperfect world. Sucks to be ethereal I guess."
Freyja shook her head. "Wait, you're saying you're some kind of angel? Am I supposed to be dead or something?"
The woman rolled her eyes and walked over to where Freyja stood. "Hmm, really girl? You're a warrior, you're blonde, you have bone structure to die for, and you're freaking named Freyja. You're more archetypal than I am, and I'm the real deal. I know you just got done drowning, but put it all together and work it out."
Freyja closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, as if the scene would somehow change. "Okay so you're saying you're some kind of Valkyrie. That still leaves my question. Am I dead? You said I just drowned."
The woman sighed disapprovingly at her. "Sister, you did more than drown. You fucked this one up big time. I know the women in your family are a pain in the ass, but you are taking the cake here. Normally I get to go haul your dead ass off a battlefield or something and give you the whole 'befitting a warrior' treatment, but you haven't even really become a warrior yet and you certainly don't know how to make an entrance. I guess you more than just look a hell of a lot like Faith, you've got her ability to fuck up a timeline too."
"Wait, you're talking about my great-grandmother? I just saw her in a holo the other day, this is just all a figment of my imagination. You need to go away. I don't know what this mess is, but I'm done," she said defiantly.
"Yeah, she didn't believe me either the first time I met her. It's ok. Even if this is just a fucked up product of your brain and a lack of oxygen, you're still not getting out of this. You woke my ass up out of bed this morning, way earlier than you should have, and we're going to work this out."
"Work what out?" Freyja asked.
"Come here, you're young and stupid, I see i have to walk you through your fuck up before you get the idea. Let's go." She reached out and took Freyja's hand, and suddenly, they were standing in the snow on a riverbank. They should both be frigid, but neither showed any signs of feeling the cold. It was dark, it was clearly nighttime, and the wind was blowing a few flakes of snow through the air as the river passed by. "Here we are, the scene of the crime."
It was then that Freyja realized where they were standing. They were in the capital city on Lummatii, the river was the one that ran past the docks she had just been running through. Then she spotted two figures in the snow just where the water ended. One was laying on the ground and the other kneeling beside the first. "What the hell is this?"
The woman patted her on the back. "This is your doing, sister. Come on." She pulled Freyja gently by the hand, then more firmly when she did not at first move along. "The banks of the river in the middle of winter on some cold ass rock out in the Periphery. At least Faith had the good sense to pick better spots, I'll give her that."
She led Freyja over to the two figures, who lay as if time were frozen. As she got closer, she didn't need any explanation. She knew who the figures were, or were supposed to be. Nonetheless, the woman led her over until they stood beside the pair. She saw her own body, appearing lifeless, soaked and frail laying on the ground. Her eyes were closed and her lips were blue. Gunnar Logan hunched over her, his face awash with a mixture of despair and frustration.
Freyja turned to the mysterious woman. "I don't understand. What is this. He was trying to kill me. Why would he bother dragging me out of the river?"
The other woman cocked her head. "And here we've reached the point of the fuck up. You see, your crazy ass jumped to conclusions, probably because you've been bounced around and battered this last little bit. Hard to judge which way is up sometimes. But you judged him wrong. He was trying to save your ass the whole time. Even after you bashed him over the head and ran off. He dove his cute little ass into the river to haul you out because he didn't want you to die of your own stupidity."
Freyja shook her head frantically. "No, no that's not what happened. He was trying to kill me. He and that crooked warden were in league, he was buying me off him."
The woman gave her a look of disbelief. "You really are dense, aren't you? No, the silly boy was trying to buy you back because your ass fell for some cheap smash and grab and almost got killed that way. And then you banged him over the head, and he still ran after you. He didn't try to shoot you, he tried to help you. And when you fell into the river, he dove that gorgeous body of his into the icy cold water to drag your ass out because he didn't want you to die. As we speak right now, he's beating on your chest trying to get the water out in the desperate hope that you'll somehow come back to life. Don't kid yourself, he wouldn't go to that much trouble if you were just a piece of ass. You ain't that good a piece of ass, sister."
Freyja started to cry. "No, no this cant be."
The woman rolled her eyes yet again. "Well yes, it can be. And it is, unless you get your sorry ass in gear and get back to him. I'm not supposed to be hauling your ass off a battlefield for....well...I'm not really allowed to say that. But suffice it to say, it wasn't supposed to be today. You need to get right with your life. You've got a gorgeous chunk of man candy that cares about you and has half a brain, a world about to be looted by pirates, and a nasty-ass pirate douche who had the gall to stick his little pirate bits where they didn't belong to go kill. Or, you could just go to sleep and let it all end here. Your call. But make up your mind, because my pizza is getting cold back at the longhouse."
Forging Freyja - Chapter 11.3
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
28 January, 3150
Freyja walked along the street almost gleefully. She knew she shouldn't be so taken with Gunnar Logan, not with all that was going on, but she found it impossible not to think of him. Far from playboy with a lack of brains that she had been led to believe he was, she had come to see a smart, funny, and genuine man.
It couldn't possibly last. He would grow bored with her, find someone new, show his true colors. Things were crazy out here in the Periphery, and life wasn't going to let her get the upper hand, she just knew it. She had to stay focused. Focused on fighting and killing the bastard of a pirate that had attacked her and now haunted her nightmares.
The air was crisp, and she shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her parka as she walked the distance from Count Logan's estate and the building that Ned Bakker had rented to store the Phoenix Hawk.
Suddenly, a man was running at her from the curb. "Can you help me?! My wife, I think she's hurt!" He gestured to a nearby car where the back drivers side door was open and a figure inside hunched over as if in pain.
Freyja ran with the man over to the car. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"I don't know, she just doubled over and started crying out. I didn't know what else to do, so I pulled over. I hope it's not our baby!" The man gestured towards the back seat of the car. Instinctively, Freyja bent over to assess the situation.
A blow struck her from behind, and the man shoved her forcefully into the car. The woman, who just seconds before had appeared doubled over in pain, sat up and grabbed Freyja's arm, pulling her in, and then slapping some kind of sticky patch onto the exposed flesh of the arm. She tried kicking out the door, but her sense of balance was already swaying into chaos. Within seconds, she had passed out, her struggles ceasing as her consciousness faded away.
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
30 January, 3150
The Blue Note was the name of the establishment, but Malcolm Connors couldn't find anything blue as he looked around the dingy bar and diner. He had selected it for his meeting with Count Logan because it was just another hole in the wall establishment that would not draw much attention.
Gunnar Logan walked in, suitably dressed down to the point that he would not stand out for his noble background in a place as everyday city streets as the Blue Note. He sat down opposite Malcolm and ordered a cheap beer. "Mr. Connors, I take it?" There was something condescending in his voice, as if looking down on the Warden. Two could play at that game, as Malcolm Connors had a very low opinion of the count. Logan was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, had everything handed to him by way of his name and birth, and languished into the life of a womanizer. Malcolm Connors had worked hard and fought for every rung of the ladder that he climbed.
Well, that was fine, because Connors was now going to make a dropship load of money off of this weak minded fool. He couldn't believe his luck. He had several of his associates grab Freyja McCarron off the street, and truthfully, he was just waiting for the right time to be able to have her killed and her body dumped in such a way that there would be no connection to him. Surely the chaos of the upcoming fight with the pirates would suffice.
But then something remarkable had happened. Gunnar Logan had started putting out feelers and offers of reward money for information on the little blonde problem. Connors was cautious, to be sure, but things had passed the sniff test, and besides, this silly philanderer couldn't really be dangerous, could he?
"Mr. Logan, a pleasure to meet you. I've had rumors come my way that you are interested in a certain girl."
Logan nodded. "The McCarron girl, I wasn't done playing with her and she up and disappeared. There are pirates only a few days from planetfall, and we need mech pilots. Plus, she was a nice diversion.
Connors smiled. "Nothing special, she was just a slave, and one that had crossed paths with me before. You understand, I have ambitions on this world, your grace, and they're not served by playing subordinate to some silly slave girl. I can provide you with another pilot for the mech, if need be. I was more interested in the fact that you put out feelers so quickly to get her back. Surely a nobleman such as yourself, these girls are a dime a dozen. So I realized you had some special interest in her, and thought we could come to some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement."
Gunnar Logan shook his head. "We can haggle over prices and what not, the deal is simple, I buy her back."
Malcolm bit his lip. "Unfortunately, your grace, things are not that simple. First of all, I was trying to get rid of her for my own ambitions. Those ambitions cannot be served by a simple sum of money. Also there is the danger of her opening her mouth and causing complications. I can't have her getting out."
Logan shrugged. "So if you won't sell her back to me, what the hell are we here for?"
Connors relaxed, feeling as though he had now gotten the count off his game, and negotiations would progress more smoothly. "I said that I have ambitions on this world, and if that's to be the case, we might as well be working with each other rather than against. What I'm proposing is a little back scratching. I can't have her getting out, and you want her, so we split the difference. I'll sell her back to you for one night. After that, we dispose of her. Think of the possibilities, your grace. I know you have your pick of the women and all, but there are some limits. Not here. She's going to turn up dead in the morning, so you can do anything you like, your darkest desires fulfilled. I will handle the dirty work of disposing of the body and such. And we begin a profitable partnership."
He could see the wheels turning behind Count Logan's eyes. "What if I just turn this all over to the authorities, then I get my girl without having to pay up to the likes of you?
Connors dismissed the young count's concerns with a wave of his hand. "First of all, you forget, I am a provincial warden. I am the authorities. Secondly, you get dragged through the mud and when all this comes out, I would think your supply of willing young ladies would dry up rather quickly. And I know you wouldn't want that. This all works out for you, your grace. And me as well. Do we have a deal?"
Gunnar Logan thought for a moment, rubbed his chin, and then looked Malcolm Connors straight in the eye. "Let's talk price."
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
31 January, 3150
Freyja snapped awake as the hood was pulled from her head. She had lost track of time since she had been grabbed off the street, but she guessed it had to have been days. Her body ached. She sat as she had nearly the entire time, feet bound together and hands bound behind the back of the chair. The only times she had been untied were to allow her to use the bathroom and to eat the little food and water that her captors had given her.
This time was different. She recognized the man who had removed the hood this time. Shit. If he's letting you see, then he's planning on killing you. "How's your nose?" she couldn't resist taking a shot at her captor. After all, what more was he going to do? This might be the end of the line for her.
Malcolm Connors grinned. "You think you're funny now? I'm going to be the one who has the last laugh. Just like back in Abercrombie. I told you, you should have learned your place. Now look what you've gotten into."
She blinked away the confusion from the sudden influx of light into her world. "Yes, heaven forbid I should stand up to defend the planet from pirates. Although if it's the likes of you I'm saving, I think I might have changed my mind."
He wagged a finger at her. "Don't be so quick and snotty there. I'll be out fighting the good fight for the people of Lummatii against the pirates in my Hatchetman, but what I won't be doing is fighting under your command. I'll be closer to the one in charge.
"Is that what this is about? Who's in charge? I didn't even see you at the meeting the other day."
He shook his head. "I couldn't get there in time. Had I been there, make no mistake, you wouldn't have been putting up your little mechwarrior in charge act. I know what you are, nothing but a damn slave girl rolled in from one of the pirate raids. I won't have you stealing my thunder, not when I get a chance to prove myself and climb the ladder above that old fool of a Lord Governor we have back home. I get to play the saving hero, and you, little girl, have no part in my story. I'm not going to lose my chance just because you happen to be there are the right time, sucking the damn Count's cock to work your way up into the head of things."
Freyja laughed. "You stupid little bastard. You think that's what this is about? That I'm trying to make a name for myself and cover myself in glory? I just want that pirate dead. And I want to kill him. That's all this is about to me."
He shrugged. "Well, you ain't going to get your chance, little girl. You see, I was just going to wait till the pirates hit, then whack you good and dead, dump your pretty little ass in all the chaos, and who would know anything different. But I got myself an even better deal. Seems that Count you've been riding your way to the top with has developed a taste for you. Offered to pay me a handsome little sum of money to let him have his way with you one last time, before we off you and go on our merry way."
Her mind raced. How could she have been so foolish as to have trusted Gunnar Logan. This was the Periphery, everyone out here was cutthroat. How had she even started to fall for the man. She wanted to scream in rage and frustration, but she refused to give Connors that satisfaction.
"In fact, he should be here any minute. Now, I don't pretend to know what goes on in the minds of these noble types, but I'm sure whatever he has planned for you will be something memorable."
She ran though a million scenarios in her head. How could she have been so wrong about Gunnar? Why had she even bothered to trust him? As she processed these thoughts, the door to the large, open warehouse bay opened and none other than Gunnar Logan himself walked though the door. Even in betrayal she found him striking as he closed the distance to where she and Malcolm Connors had been talking. He was somewhat dressed down, and he wore a long coat with a scarf that she noticed matched the colors of his family crest that she had seen on his estate just days before. Back then, she could have imagined him striding through the door to her rescue. Now he was going to be the end of her silly adventure in the Periphery.
Try as she might, she could not disguise the fear in her eyes as she met his gaze. His own expression was cold, almost matter of fact. This was just a transaction. She was just another toy to him.
"Count Logan, I present to you, your Freyja McCarron, just as we agreed upon. I trust you have the sum we agreed upon?" Freyja couldn't stand it any longer as Connors talked, she looked first to the bag that Gunnar Logan carried, then to the cold ferrocrete floor. "I'm sure you understand the need to keep her here. I'm sure we can arrange for anything that you had in--"
The warden's sentence was cut off midway, and Freyja sensed a blur of motion. She looked up to see Malcolm Connors slumping to the floor, a neat and smoking hole etched in his forhead, and Gunnar Logan holding a large Sunbeam laser pistol in his hand. He was already cleaning up his tracks. he was even more of a monster than she guessed, he had killed Connors to keep the money for himself. Now she was dead, she knew, the only question being how quickly he would grant her death. Would he just kill her here as a loose end? Or would he follow through with what Connors had described, toying with her mercilessly up until her death.
She wanted to speak, to say something, but all she could do was cry. Count Logan quickly ran over to her chair and pulled out a knife, first cutting the bonds at her feet, and then freeing her wrists.
"Freyja, we don't have much time, we have to--" Panic, shock, and fight or flight instinct all kicked in as soon as her limbs were free and she put her hands together and slammed them down in one furious blow to the back of Gunnar Logan's head as he knelt from untying her. She didn't even look back as she sprinted towards the door that the Count had entered from. As she reached the door, sh heard him calling her name, but she ignored it and ran.
She burst out onto the street, or what was more appropriately, docks. The capital was ice bound at the moment and the wide swath of the river was dotted alternately with patches of ice and places where the water still flowed free. She shivered, not having her parka. She had no idea where she was, she just knew she had to run.
"Freyja, wait!" she turned to see Logan sprinting after her. She turned to run again, but lost her footing, dropping a relatively short distance, but into the frigid ice water of the river. Her entire body wracked with the spasms of the shock of the cold, and her instincts betrayed her. Normally a good swimmer, the shock of the ice water caused her to gasp, taking in a lungful of water. She fought, tried to cough it out, but it was no use. She was disoriented. She could see spears of light flashing from all directions in the water, but there was nothing she could do as the blackness closed in on her from all sides.
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
28 January, 3150
Freyja walked along the street almost gleefully. She knew she shouldn't be so taken with Gunnar Logan, not with all that was going on, but she found it impossible not to think of him. Far from playboy with a lack of brains that she had been led to believe he was, she had come to see a smart, funny, and genuine man.
It couldn't possibly last. He would grow bored with her, find someone new, show his true colors. Things were crazy out here in the Periphery, and life wasn't going to let her get the upper hand, she just knew it. She had to stay focused. Focused on fighting and killing the bastard of a pirate that had attacked her and now haunted her nightmares.
The air was crisp, and she shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her parka as she walked the distance from Count Logan's estate and the building that Ned Bakker had rented to store the Phoenix Hawk.
Suddenly, a man was running at her from the curb. "Can you help me?! My wife, I think she's hurt!" He gestured to a nearby car where the back drivers side door was open and a figure inside hunched over as if in pain.
Freyja ran with the man over to the car. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"I don't know, she just doubled over and started crying out. I didn't know what else to do, so I pulled over. I hope it's not our baby!" The man gestured towards the back seat of the car. Instinctively, Freyja bent over to assess the situation.
A blow struck her from behind, and the man shoved her forcefully into the car. The woman, who just seconds before had appeared doubled over in pain, sat up and grabbed Freyja's arm, pulling her in, and then slapping some kind of sticky patch onto the exposed flesh of the arm. She tried kicking out the door, but her sense of balance was already swaying into chaos. Within seconds, she had passed out, her struggles ceasing as her consciousness faded away.
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
30 January, 3150
The Blue Note was the name of the establishment, but Malcolm Connors couldn't find anything blue as he looked around the dingy bar and diner. He had selected it for his meeting with Count Logan because it was just another hole in the wall establishment that would not draw much attention.
Gunnar Logan walked in, suitably dressed down to the point that he would not stand out for his noble background in a place as everyday city streets as the Blue Note. He sat down opposite Malcolm and ordered a cheap beer. "Mr. Connors, I take it?" There was something condescending in his voice, as if looking down on the Warden. Two could play at that game, as Malcolm Connors had a very low opinion of the count. Logan was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, had everything handed to him by way of his name and birth, and languished into the life of a womanizer. Malcolm Connors had worked hard and fought for every rung of the ladder that he climbed.
Well, that was fine, because Connors was now going to make a dropship load of money off of this weak minded fool. He couldn't believe his luck. He had several of his associates grab Freyja McCarron off the street, and truthfully, he was just waiting for the right time to be able to have her killed and her body dumped in such a way that there would be no connection to him. Surely the chaos of the upcoming fight with the pirates would suffice.
But then something remarkable had happened. Gunnar Logan had started putting out feelers and offers of reward money for information on the little blonde problem. Connors was cautious, to be sure, but things had passed the sniff test, and besides, this silly philanderer couldn't really be dangerous, could he?
"Mr. Logan, a pleasure to meet you. I've had rumors come my way that you are interested in a certain girl."
Logan nodded. "The McCarron girl, I wasn't done playing with her and she up and disappeared. There are pirates only a few days from planetfall, and we need mech pilots. Plus, she was a nice diversion.
Connors smiled. "Nothing special, she was just a slave, and one that had crossed paths with me before. You understand, I have ambitions on this world, your grace, and they're not served by playing subordinate to some silly slave girl. I can provide you with another pilot for the mech, if need be. I was more interested in the fact that you put out feelers so quickly to get her back. Surely a nobleman such as yourself, these girls are a dime a dozen. So I realized you had some special interest in her, and thought we could come to some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement."
Gunnar Logan shook his head. "We can haggle over prices and what not, the deal is simple, I buy her back."
Malcolm bit his lip. "Unfortunately, your grace, things are not that simple. First of all, I was trying to get rid of her for my own ambitions. Those ambitions cannot be served by a simple sum of money. Also there is the danger of her opening her mouth and causing complications. I can't have her getting out."
Logan shrugged. "So if you won't sell her back to me, what the hell are we here for?"
Connors relaxed, feeling as though he had now gotten the count off his game, and negotiations would progress more smoothly. "I said that I have ambitions on this world, and if that's to be the case, we might as well be working with each other rather than against. What I'm proposing is a little back scratching. I can't have her getting out, and you want her, so we split the difference. I'll sell her back to you for one night. After that, we dispose of her. Think of the possibilities, your grace. I know you have your pick of the women and all, but there are some limits. Not here. She's going to turn up dead in the morning, so you can do anything you like, your darkest desires fulfilled. I will handle the dirty work of disposing of the body and such. And we begin a profitable partnership."
He could see the wheels turning behind Count Logan's eyes. "What if I just turn this all over to the authorities, then I get my girl without having to pay up to the likes of you?
Connors dismissed the young count's concerns with a wave of his hand. "First of all, you forget, I am a provincial warden. I am the authorities. Secondly, you get dragged through the mud and when all this comes out, I would think your supply of willing young ladies would dry up rather quickly. And I know you wouldn't want that. This all works out for you, your grace. And me as well. Do we have a deal?"
Gunnar Logan thought for a moment, rubbed his chin, and then looked Malcolm Connors straight in the eye. "Let's talk price."
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
31 January, 3150
Freyja snapped awake as the hood was pulled from her head. She had lost track of time since she had been grabbed off the street, but she guessed it had to have been days. Her body ached. She sat as she had nearly the entire time, feet bound together and hands bound behind the back of the chair. The only times she had been untied were to allow her to use the bathroom and to eat the little food and water that her captors had given her.
This time was different. She recognized the man who had removed the hood this time. Shit. If he's letting you see, then he's planning on killing you. "How's your nose?" she couldn't resist taking a shot at her captor. After all, what more was he going to do? This might be the end of the line for her.
Malcolm Connors grinned. "You think you're funny now? I'm going to be the one who has the last laugh. Just like back in Abercrombie. I told you, you should have learned your place. Now look what you've gotten into."
She blinked away the confusion from the sudden influx of light into her world. "Yes, heaven forbid I should stand up to defend the planet from pirates. Although if it's the likes of you I'm saving, I think I might have changed my mind."
He wagged a finger at her. "Don't be so quick and snotty there. I'll be out fighting the good fight for the people of Lummatii against the pirates in my Hatchetman, but what I won't be doing is fighting under your command. I'll be closer to the one in charge.
"Is that what this is about? Who's in charge? I didn't even see you at the meeting the other day."
He shook his head. "I couldn't get there in time. Had I been there, make no mistake, you wouldn't have been putting up your little mechwarrior in charge act. I know what you are, nothing but a damn slave girl rolled in from one of the pirate raids. I won't have you stealing my thunder, not when I get a chance to prove myself and climb the ladder above that old fool of a Lord Governor we have back home. I get to play the saving hero, and you, little girl, have no part in my story. I'm not going to lose my chance just because you happen to be there are the right time, sucking the damn Count's cock to work your way up into the head of things."
Freyja laughed. "You stupid little bastard. You think that's what this is about? That I'm trying to make a name for myself and cover myself in glory? I just want that pirate dead. And I want to kill him. That's all this is about to me."
He shrugged. "Well, you ain't going to get your chance, little girl. You see, I was just going to wait till the pirates hit, then whack you good and dead, dump your pretty little ass in all the chaos, and who would know anything different. But I got myself an even better deal. Seems that Count you've been riding your way to the top with has developed a taste for you. Offered to pay me a handsome little sum of money to let him have his way with you one last time, before we off you and go on our merry way."
Her mind raced. How could she have been so foolish as to have trusted Gunnar Logan. This was the Periphery, everyone out here was cutthroat. How had she even started to fall for the man. She wanted to scream in rage and frustration, but she refused to give Connors that satisfaction.
"In fact, he should be here any minute. Now, I don't pretend to know what goes on in the minds of these noble types, but I'm sure whatever he has planned for you will be something memorable."
She ran though a million scenarios in her head. How could she have been so wrong about Gunnar? Why had she even bothered to trust him? As she processed these thoughts, the door to the large, open warehouse bay opened and none other than Gunnar Logan himself walked though the door. Even in betrayal she found him striking as he closed the distance to where she and Malcolm Connors had been talking. He was somewhat dressed down, and he wore a long coat with a scarf that she noticed matched the colors of his family crest that she had seen on his estate just days before. Back then, she could have imagined him striding through the door to her rescue. Now he was going to be the end of her silly adventure in the Periphery.
Try as she might, she could not disguise the fear in her eyes as she met his gaze. His own expression was cold, almost matter of fact. This was just a transaction. She was just another toy to him.
"Count Logan, I present to you, your Freyja McCarron, just as we agreed upon. I trust you have the sum we agreed upon?" Freyja couldn't stand it any longer as Connors talked, she looked first to the bag that Gunnar Logan carried, then to the cold ferrocrete floor. "I'm sure you understand the need to keep her here. I'm sure we can arrange for anything that you had in--"
The warden's sentence was cut off midway, and Freyja sensed a blur of motion. She looked up to see Malcolm Connors slumping to the floor, a neat and smoking hole etched in his forhead, and Gunnar Logan holding a large Sunbeam laser pistol in his hand. He was already cleaning up his tracks. he was even more of a monster than she guessed, he had killed Connors to keep the money for himself. Now she was dead, she knew, the only question being how quickly he would grant her death. Would he just kill her here as a loose end? Or would he follow through with what Connors had described, toying with her mercilessly up until her death.
She wanted to speak, to say something, but all she could do was cry. Count Logan quickly ran over to her chair and pulled out a knife, first cutting the bonds at her feet, and then freeing her wrists.
"Freyja, we don't have much time, we have to--" Panic, shock, and fight or flight instinct all kicked in as soon as her limbs were free and she put her hands together and slammed them down in one furious blow to the back of Gunnar Logan's head as he knelt from untying her. She didn't even look back as she sprinted towards the door that the Count had entered from. As she reached the door, sh heard him calling her name, but she ignored it and ran.
She burst out onto the street, or what was more appropriately, docks. The capital was ice bound at the moment and the wide swath of the river was dotted alternately with patches of ice and places where the water still flowed free. She shivered, not having her parka. She had no idea where she was, she just knew she had to run.
"Freyja, wait!" she turned to see Logan sprinting after her. She turned to run again, but lost her footing, dropping a relatively short distance, but into the frigid ice water of the river. Her entire body wracked with the spasms of the shock of the cold, and her instincts betrayed her. Normally a good swimmer, the shock of the ice water caused her to gasp, taking in a lungful of water. She fought, tried to cough it out, but it was no use. She was disoriented. She could see spears of light flashing from all directions in the water, but there was nothing she could do as the blackness closed in on her from all sides.
Forging Freyja - Chapter 11.2
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
27 January, 3150
Malcolm Connors sat back in the hardened plastic covering of the bench seat in the booth where he was relaxing with a locally brewed beer. He wasn't particularly happy about having to come to the capital to fight, but things could have been worse. The coming fight would at least give him a chance to supplant that simpering fool of a Lord Governor he served. A little fighting, and he could play the combat hero card, protector of the people. So long as he took a step up.
One of his men slid into the seat opposite him. "Hey boss, you're not going to like this, but I've got some news for you." He hadn't been able to make the meeting of those assembled to fight against the impending pirate raid, having to send a lieutenant in his stead. No doubt the pompous Count Logan would be trying to soak up all the glory, but he could work around that.
"So spill it. Can't be that bad. What's Logan got himself up to?"
"Yeah, um, that's the thing. Count Logan isn't the one in charge. At least not totally." He hated when his underlings spoke cryptically.
"Well who is? There's nobody else with a mech and enough clout to take the top spot."
The man looked to his left and right nervously. "You remember that girl that broke your nose last year? Well she and the Count are thick as thieves, and it's her that's calling the shots."
"What?! That's impossible. That little bitch should be cleaning floors somewhere on the Bakker estate." His mind ran wild with concerns. There was no way he was going to be outshone by some little slave girl. It didn't matter if she had the Count's ear, there was no way he was going to allow her to run the show and supplant him. He would have to get rid of her before things got too far ahead of him, and definitely before the battle.
"I'm not going to let this go on." A plan began to form in his mind. "I'll need your help. We are going to get rid of this little bitch before she becomes a nuissance!"
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
27 January, 3150
Malcolm Connors sat back in the hardened plastic covering of the bench seat in the booth where he was relaxing with a locally brewed beer. He wasn't particularly happy about having to come to the capital to fight, but things could have been worse. The coming fight would at least give him a chance to supplant that simpering fool of a Lord Governor he served. A little fighting, and he could play the combat hero card, protector of the people. So long as he took a step up.
One of his men slid into the seat opposite him. "Hey boss, you're not going to like this, but I've got some news for you." He hadn't been able to make the meeting of those assembled to fight against the impending pirate raid, having to send a lieutenant in his stead. No doubt the pompous Count Logan would be trying to soak up all the glory, but he could work around that.
"So spill it. Can't be that bad. What's Logan got himself up to?"
"Yeah, um, that's the thing. Count Logan isn't the one in charge. At least not totally." He hated when his underlings spoke cryptically.
"Well who is? There's nobody else with a mech and enough clout to take the top spot."
The man looked to his left and right nervously. "You remember that girl that broke your nose last year? Well she and the Count are thick as thieves, and it's her that's calling the shots."
"What?! That's impossible. That little bitch should be cleaning floors somewhere on the Bakker estate." His mind ran wild with concerns. There was no way he was going to be outshone by some little slave girl. It didn't matter if she had the Count's ear, there was no way he was going to allow her to run the show and supplant him. He would have to get rid of her before things got too far ahead of him, and definitely before the battle.
"I'm not going to let this go on." A plan began to form in his mind. "I'll need your help. We are going to get rid of this little bitch before she becomes a nuissance!"
Forging Freyja - Chapter 11.1
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
27 January, 3150
Freyja awoke with a start, her heart racing, an her skin clammy with perspiration. She sat bolt upright,trying to force herself to relax after having just burst awake from a nightmare.
"What's wrong, are you okay?" she recoiled at first at the feeling of Gunnar's hand on her back, then closed her eyes as if trying to will a sense of calm over herself.
"Yeah, I'm fine, just a nightmare." she turned to face Gunnar Logan, who had groggily sat up beside her in the bed. "I'll be fine."
"Must have been some nightmare, that scream probably woke half the city," he smiled reassuringly. She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, but the truth of the matter was that he was right. Ever since the night of her attack at the hands of Raiden Trogg, she hadn't slept well, wracked by nightmares and waking in fits of panic.
"What time is it?" she rubbed her eyes as if doing so could wipe away the fatigue.
"It's only about three thirty. We don't meet with everyone until ten. Plenty of time for you to rest up." he pulled her into his embrace. She wished she felt safer wrapped in those arms, as she knew she should. But the closer to the confrontation with the pirate band they came, the more nervous and unsettled she became.
"I'll try," she said, not sure if she was trying to convince Gunnar or herself.
Seven hours later, they found themselves standing at the head of a table, where an impromptu map of the planet had been drawn up. Raiden Trogg's jumpship had appeared at the system's jump point, and his dropship was three days away from making planetfall. The various leaders, and those committed to the fight against Trogg stood gathered around the table, with the goal of organizing the resistance.
Freyja had thought a lot about the coming fight. They had managed to scrounge up seven battlemechs, mostly mediums. They had a further dozen agro and industrial mech mods converted to some kind of fighting shape. On top of that, they had a smattering of combat vehicles and vehicles that could be counted on for some kind of fighting spirit when the time came. She had the rough outline of a plan in her head, and she knew it would work, but the trick was getting everyone to go along with it.
"So what you propose is splitting your force and giving up the capital? That hardly seems reasonable." The speaker was a rather rotund man, one of the planet's senators to the Lothian Senate.
Freyja sighed. "Not when you put it like that, Senator." She tried to give the man due deference, but it was hard. Over the last few days, that had been one of the hardest things for her, balancing the fact that she was, in essence, still just a slave here with no standing, against the fact that she was now the de facto leader of the opposition to Trogg's pirates. "There's reasons for everything that I'm proposing. First of all, Trogg doesn't know we're opposing him on a large scale. We use that to our advantage. Count Logan is going to preemptively pay his share of Trogg's fee, make it look like we are capitulating here in the capital at least."
"The senator has a good point though, why not hit Trogg with everything we've got? Why split up?" The man who spoke up this time was Lord Governer Pitcairn, the man in charge of the province where the Bakker's hold lay, and the man who had passed judgement on her months before for striking one of his wardens.
Freyja responded firmly. "Our forces are naturally broken into two groups regardless. We have the Battlemechs, whose advantage is mobility, and the conversions, vehicles and infantry, which pack equal if not more punch, but lack mobility. What I'm saying is that we play to both of those strengths. When Trogg lands, I'll take a lance of the Battlemechs and make a show of force out by Abercrombie. It should be enough for Trogg to commit the bulk of his forces to crush us. When he comes out, we lead him on in a running battle, while the bulk of our people hit the capital and drop port. We seize his rear area, and lead the battle back in that direction. He will think he's going to have us pinned between his two forces, when in reality, we will be leading him into a trap."
"And if he doesn't play along?"
"That's why we have a few mechs in reserve, to escalate things if need be, to draw him out. If he doesn't, we fight a running battle with him and take his forces out piecemeal. Either way, we dictate the terms of things. That's the main point. We dictate the terms of the fight, not him." She tried to sound confident in her plan to the assembled crowd.
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
27 January, 3150
Freyja awoke with a start, her heart racing, an her skin clammy with perspiration. She sat bolt upright,trying to force herself to relax after having just burst awake from a nightmare.
"What's wrong, are you okay?" she recoiled at first at the feeling of Gunnar's hand on her back, then closed her eyes as if trying to will a sense of calm over herself.
"Yeah, I'm fine, just a nightmare." she turned to face Gunnar Logan, who had groggily sat up beside her in the bed. "I'll be fine."
"Must have been some nightmare, that scream probably woke half the city," he smiled reassuringly. She knew he was just trying to make her feel better, but the truth of the matter was that he was right. Ever since the night of her attack at the hands of Raiden Trogg, she hadn't slept well, wracked by nightmares and waking in fits of panic.
"What time is it?" she rubbed her eyes as if doing so could wipe away the fatigue.
"It's only about three thirty. We don't meet with everyone until ten. Plenty of time for you to rest up." he pulled her into his embrace. She wished she felt safer wrapped in those arms, as she knew she should. But the closer to the confrontation with the pirate band they came, the more nervous and unsettled she became.
"I'll try," she said, not sure if she was trying to convince Gunnar or herself.
Seven hours later, they found themselves standing at the head of a table, where an impromptu map of the planet had been drawn up. Raiden Trogg's jumpship had appeared at the system's jump point, and his dropship was three days away from making planetfall. The various leaders, and those committed to the fight against Trogg stood gathered around the table, with the goal of organizing the resistance.
Freyja had thought a lot about the coming fight. They had managed to scrounge up seven battlemechs, mostly mediums. They had a further dozen agro and industrial mech mods converted to some kind of fighting shape. On top of that, they had a smattering of combat vehicles and vehicles that could be counted on for some kind of fighting spirit when the time came. She had the rough outline of a plan in her head, and she knew it would work, but the trick was getting everyone to go along with it.
"So what you propose is splitting your force and giving up the capital? That hardly seems reasonable." The speaker was a rather rotund man, one of the planet's senators to the Lothian Senate.
Freyja sighed. "Not when you put it like that, Senator." She tried to give the man due deference, but it was hard. Over the last few days, that had been one of the hardest things for her, balancing the fact that she was, in essence, still just a slave here with no standing, against the fact that she was now the de facto leader of the opposition to Trogg's pirates. "There's reasons for everything that I'm proposing. First of all, Trogg doesn't know we're opposing him on a large scale. We use that to our advantage. Count Logan is going to preemptively pay his share of Trogg's fee, make it look like we are capitulating here in the capital at least."
"The senator has a good point though, why not hit Trogg with everything we've got? Why split up?" The man who spoke up this time was Lord Governer Pitcairn, the man in charge of the province where the Bakker's hold lay, and the man who had passed judgement on her months before for striking one of his wardens.
Freyja responded firmly. "Our forces are naturally broken into two groups regardless. We have the Battlemechs, whose advantage is mobility, and the conversions, vehicles and infantry, which pack equal if not more punch, but lack mobility. What I'm saying is that we play to both of those strengths. When Trogg lands, I'll take a lance of the Battlemechs and make a show of force out by Abercrombie. It should be enough for Trogg to commit the bulk of his forces to crush us. When he comes out, we lead him on in a running battle, while the bulk of our people hit the capital and drop port. We seize his rear area, and lead the battle back in that direction. He will think he's going to have us pinned between his two forces, when in reality, we will be leading him into a trap."
"And if he doesn't play along?"
"That's why we have a few mechs in reserve, to escalate things if need be, to draw him out. If he doesn't, we fight a running battle with him and take his forces out piecemeal. Either way, we dictate the terms of things. That's the main point. We dictate the terms of the fight, not him." She tried to sound confident in her plan to the assembled crowd.
Friday, March 29, 2019
Forging Freyja - Solaris Flashback
The Glass Tower, Cathay
Solaris City
Solaris VII
Federated Commonwealth
14 May, 3052
Faith felt the prick of the needle in her arm and gently pressed down on the plunger. Seconds later, she felt the warmth of the synthetic opiate rushing through her body. She leaned back, opened her eyes, and exhaled. The evening's fight was over, and the rush of combat had ended. It had been a closer victory than she liked, but it was a victory all the same. The purse hadn't been huge, but money wasn't the reason she fought anymore. She fought because she liked it. She fought for the thrill. And she fought for the rush.
A knock at the door to her suite interrupted her reverie. "Fuck. Go away." she whispered. Her suite in the Glass Tower was pretty secure, she knew she didn't really have to worry about intruders or fans harassing her, security and the local crime lords both took care of that. And the police wouldn't be up here, especially at this time of night and especially without her being tipped off beforehand.
The knock repeated itself, and she sat up. She set the empty syringe down on the table, unwrapped the elastic tourniquet from her arm and tossed it on the table as well, then slowly stood and made her way to the door.
She opened the door to find Catherine Black, her opponent from the evenings earlier fight, standing there. Black cut a striking figure, clad all in black, with her raven hair pulled back into a ponytail, and her smoke grey eyes seeming to take in everything without any movement.
"Didn't expect to see you turn up on my doorstep. If you wanted to see me, you shouldn't have skipped the post-fight presser. But I guess if you were willing to take the money hit on that, you really don't care much anyhow."
Cat's expression didn't change. "Can I come in? I thought we might talk?" She spoke with a cultured, almost haughty accent that Faith couldn't quite pin down.
"Sure, why not. I don't have anything else going on." she left the door open and shrugged Cat an invitation to enter.
The other woman walked through the door, and at Faith's gesture, removed her long black coat and hung it on the rack beside the door. As she did so, Faith let her eyes gaze her over subtly. She wore heavy black boots, and black synthleather pants that clung to her, displaying her obviously toned curves. Her black tee shirt suited her just as well, hugging her slim figure and accentuating her firm chest in a way that was subtle, yet alluring. It contrasted sharply with her relatively pale but flawless white skin, completing a package that was sensual and downright sexy, in spite of the obvious vibe of danger that she gave off. Or perhaps because of it.
Easy Faith. That girl was shooting at you a few hours ago. Faith led her into the main room and gestured towards a chair, while she turned to the island that separated the kitchen off, and which had an assortment of liquor bottles along it. "Something to drink?" she asked.
"Whatever you are having, thank you."
Faith poured two glasses of a cheap Davion whiskey that she kept around in abundance for times when she just felt like getting drunk. This wasn't one of those times, but she could still feel the opium buzz in her head, and there was no need to waste the good liquor when she already had a decent buzz going. She placed a glass on the table in front of Cat, then sat back in her own chair and took a sip of her own drink.
Cat glanced down at the syringe, tourniquet, and small vial of liquid that still lay out on the table. "Drugs will dull a warrior's edge," she said softly as she took a sip of her own drink.
Faith smirked. "This warrior's edge was fine enough to kick your ass earlier today just so you remember. And if you're thinking of reporting me to the gaming board, go ahead, but you needn't bother, I'll piss clean, I promise."
Cat shook her head. "That was not my implication. And I assure you, I am well aware of having lost earlier. It does not happen often. That is actually why I am here."
Faith slammed back a swig of the whiskey. "If you want a rematch, go through your stable. I'm not one to book my own fights."
"That would prove rather difficult. My stable voided my contract after the fight," she said in a very matter of fact way.
Faith scoffed. "That seems a bit harsh. They couldn't do that....unless...."
Cat nodded. "I was terminated for 'reckless misuse of stable property' in their words."
Faith shook her head disapprovingly. "You had a tap out clause. That makes the way you hung on after you were beaten even dumber. I offered you the chance. Twice."
Cat waived her hand dismissively. "I was not aware of the clause before they brought it to my attention. But I would not have submitted, regardless. That is no way to fight."
"It was your first loss, I know. You were 8-0 going into that fight. I did my homework, trust me."
Cat sat forward slightly. "I studied you as well. I should not have lost. Yet somehow, I did."
Faith emptied her glass before she responded. "You're a damn good shot. You fight cautiously, using your accuracy to your advantage. Then when your opponent is weakened just enough, you pounce."
The other woman's smokey eyes narrowed. "And you normally fight aggressively. Your fighting style matches your persona. But you fought differently this time. Even with that, however, I should have beaten you. Especially when your one autocannon jammed."
Faith let a smile creep into the corners of her mouth. "Except my left Ultra-5 never jammed."
Cat sat back and paused for a moment. "But I saw it. You only used your right gun. I saw the left one spinning with an ammo feed problem."
Faith let her grin grow. "The only ammo feed problem it had was it was trying to feed from an empty bin. I left that bin empty, and had two tons more armor bolted on. The pounding you gave me would probably have dropped me if I was running my standard loadout. But I saw you liked to play the long game. I just played a longer game, sister."
Cat glanced down and let out a sigh. "Subterfuge is something I will have to hone, I suppose."
Faith nodded. "Beats honesty every time. So is that why you came here, to find out how you lost?"
The dark haired woman took a small pouch from her hip and tossed it on the table. When Faith gave her a puzzled look, she sat back. "Those are my vineers. I keep my past a closed book, as you probably know. There is all manner of speculation, but I neither confirm or deny. There is little point. Until now, here with you. Black is simply a nom de guerre. My only given name is Catherine, I was born a warrior of Clan Nova Cat."
"You're a long way from home, sister. The tabloids would have a field day with that one, if you're telling the truth. Doesn't really matter to me though. Why are you telling me this, am I supposed to take you prisoner or something since I beat you in combat?"
Cat shook her head. "I am no longer truly clan. And even if I were, you would have had to claim the right of making me your bondsman at the time of my defeat. But I am here to pledge to fight at your side, in a way. It is a part of one of my visions that I did not fully understand until tonight."
Faith stood and poured herself another whiskey. "Yeah, I've heard you Nova Cats are into smoking peyote and playing with voodoo dolls and stuff like that." She returned to her seat and took another sip. "I don't see what that has to do with anything. Hell, I don't even believe in that kind of stuff."
Cat stared off into the distance for a moment. "I am here on the game world because of a vision. I was raised to put great stock in them." She paused for a moment and studied the remains of the amber liquid in her own glass. "My star was sent on a supply raid into the Draconis Combine. We struck quickly, took what we wanted, and departed. Shortly after we lifted off, there was an explosion on our dropship. I have no idea if it was an accident, or if some bandit managed to slip aboard our ship and sabotage it. Either way, we crashed on the surface. Only three of us survived the crash, and they died in the wilderness shortly after. I managed to make my way to civilization, and managed to stow away aboard a cargo vessel. When we linked with the jumpship, I slipped aboard and commandeered it, thinking to jump back into Nova Cat territory. The pilot somehow managed to double-cross me, and jumped to a Combine system, and I was taken prisoner."
Faith tipped her glass to Cat. "Sounds like you have shitty luck, sister."
Cat nodded. "What you would ascribe to luck, I ascribed to destiny. I managed to escape, but my faith in my path was shaken. As I eluded my pursuers in a dense forrest, I undertook my own version of the Rite of the Vision. What I saw convinced me that my life as a Nova Cat was over. For good or ill, my path lay elsewhere."
"Pardon my disbelief, but all this brings you to my door how?"
Cat thought for a moment before responding. "A vision is deeply personal. We do not share the vision itself with others, not entirely, except with the Oathmaster. But I saw myself vanquished and then raised again by a golden knight in a great Colosseum. There is more to it, much more, but suffice it to say that I am convinced that my path lies alongside yours, at least for a time."
Faith stood. "Well sorry, sister, but visions and bonfires aren't my thing. And besides, I fight alone. This girl is a clan of one."
Cat rose from her seat as well. "You will need me in the future. I promise. I have seen it."
Faith took a step closer, her temper rising slightly, helped no doubt by the alcohol fueled fire she could feel swelling inside her. "Fine, leave your business card. If I need you, I'll give you a call. Until then, take your voodoo dolls and lick your wounds from the ass kicking I gave you."
Cat shook her head, stepping closer to Faith. "Your flippancy is so.....frustrating. How am I supposed to get through to you?"
Faith raised her voice to match the other woman's ire. "Maybe you're not. So how about you just go."
Cat looked up at the ceiling and left out an angered sigh of frustration. Then she lowered her gaze to lock eyes with Faith, as if weighing something in her mind. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity as the fires behind each of their eyes burned. Then suddenly, before Faith could react, Cat took her face in her hands and locked her in a passion filled kiss.
At first, Faith started to pull away, but she stopped herself, soaking in the kiss as if fire were exploding between the two warriors as they collided. If it was possible to pour anger into a kiss, it was happening. Faith let her hands fall to Cat's waist and gripped firmly.
Cat was a few inches taller, and definitely more muscular than Faith, and used her dominant pose to walk Faith backwards until she was pressed against the wall. Only then did their lips part, and each of the women hungrily took in air.
"If you wanted to fuck me, you didn't have to bother with your whole life story, you could have just asked." Faith chuckled.
"Damn your stubbornness, Faith McCarron," Cat quickly unbuttoned Faith's shirt and planted hungry kisses over her shoulders and chest. Faith wrapped her legs around Cat's waist as she let the other woman's desire flow over her.
She dug her fingers deeply into Cat's jet black hair. "Bedroom is that way."
The sex was aggressive, not quite combative. Cat used her superior size and strength to retain dominance throughout most of the session, but Faith held her own, breaking free several times to seize the initiative and dig her fingers into the flesh and well toned muscle of her partner.
While Faith was vocal, Cat at first was almost silent. Then, as Faith broke free of her grip on one occasion, she managed to take one of Cat's ample, firm breasts in her mouth, running her tongue over the other woman's nipple and eliciting a moan of pleasure.
Faith's dominance was short lived, as Cat quickly turned the tables and flipped Faith onto her back. Gripping her with one arm, and entering her with one, then two fingers, the two warriors bodies slid against each other rhythmically as Cat slowly brought Faith to a thundering climax. Faith let out a scream, not caring what other occupants of the building might hear.
The night went on for hours, the two women who mere hours before had been trading deadly blows in combat now taking turns bringing each other up to and over the precipice of pleasure. Finally exhausted, they settled into a tangle of limbs while they caught their breath and let their pulses steady out to a relaxed rate.
"So that was your plan?" Faith quipped with a smile.
"What?" Cat gazed at her with eyes only partially recovered from the depths of pleasure.
"That was your plan, tell me your life story, and when I didn't buy into your fireside fairy tale, you'd fuck me into submission?" she said wryly.
Cat propped herself up on her elbows and allowed herself a slight smile. "I did not plan on the fucking part, as you so eloquently put it. But I am drawn to you. I do not expect that you would understand without having had my vision."
Faith rolled onto her side. "You keep talking about these visions as if they're some kind of magic. I don't believe in that kind of shit. There's no such thing as divining the future. We make our future. Or we die trying."
Cat shook her head. "It is not about knowing a future set in stone. It is about seeing a path so that you can embrace it fully, realize it's potential. I grew up with one path set down for me. To become a warrior and help fulfill Kerensky's vision for the future. We all saw Operation Revival as our part in that future. But now things have fractured. Nothing is as clear as it was when I was a child. And so now we have to find our paths again."
Faith raised an eyebrow. "And now you think your path is fighting alongside me. I don't get it."
"Not as such. But when you defeated me, things came into focus, my vision suddenly had clarity. You go on to build great things, Faith McCarron. Things greater than yourself. But you are the start, and my heart tells me I must be by your side."
Faith slid closer to Catherine and began gently tracing her fingers over Cat's skin. "Maybe it's the orgasm talking, or maybe it's just my vanity, but let's say I buy into this a little bit. What's that mean?"
Cat pulled her in closer and they settled into a resting position, their bodies pressed together, their limbs intertwined. "Just that we remain in each other's orbit, and let fate forge the rest."
Solaris City
Solaris VII
Federated Commonwealth
14 May, 3052
Faith felt the prick of the needle in her arm and gently pressed down on the plunger. Seconds later, she felt the warmth of the synthetic opiate rushing through her body. She leaned back, opened her eyes, and exhaled. The evening's fight was over, and the rush of combat had ended. It had been a closer victory than she liked, but it was a victory all the same. The purse hadn't been huge, but money wasn't the reason she fought anymore. She fought because she liked it. She fought for the thrill. And she fought for the rush.
A knock at the door to her suite interrupted her reverie. "Fuck. Go away." she whispered. Her suite in the Glass Tower was pretty secure, she knew she didn't really have to worry about intruders or fans harassing her, security and the local crime lords both took care of that. And the police wouldn't be up here, especially at this time of night and especially without her being tipped off beforehand.
The knock repeated itself, and she sat up. She set the empty syringe down on the table, unwrapped the elastic tourniquet from her arm and tossed it on the table as well, then slowly stood and made her way to the door.
She opened the door to find Catherine Black, her opponent from the evenings earlier fight, standing there. Black cut a striking figure, clad all in black, with her raven hair pulled back into a ponytail, and her smoke grey eyes seeming to take in everything without any movement.
"Didn't expect to see you turn up on my doorstep. If you wanted to see me, you shouldn't have skipped the post-fight presser. But I guess if you were willing to take the money hit on that, you really don't care much anyhow."
Cat's expression didn't change. "Can I come in? I thought we might talk?" She spoke with a cultured, almost haughty accent that Faith couldn't quite pin down.
"Sure, why not. I don't have anything else going on." she left the door open and shrugged Cat an invitation to enter.
The other woman walked through the door, and at Faith's gesture, removed her long black coat and hung it on the rack beside the door. As she did so, Faith let her eyes gaze her over subtly. She wore heavy black boots, and black synthleather pants that clung to her, displaying her obviously toned curves. Her black tee shirt suited her just as well, hugging her slim figure and accentuating her firm chest in a way that was subtle, yet alluring. It contrasted sharply with her relatively pale but flawless white skin, completing a package that was sensual and downright sexy, in spite of the obvious vibe of danger that she gave off. Or perhaps because of it.
Easy Faith. That girl was shooting at you a few hours ago. Faith led her into the main room and gestured towards a chair, while she turned to the island that separated the kitchen off, and which had an assortment of liquor bottles along it. "Something to drink?" she asked.
"Whatever you are having, thank you."
Faith poured two glasses of a cheap Davion whiskey that she kept around in abundance for times when she just felt like getting drunk. This wasn't one of those times, but she could still feel the opium buzz in her head, and there was no need to waste the good liquor when she already had a decent buzz going. She placed a glass on the table in front of Cat, then sat back in her own chair and took a sip of her own drink.
Cat glanced down at the syringe, tourniquet, and small vial of liquid that still lay out on the table. "Drugs will dull a warrior's edge," she said softly as she took a sip of her own drink.
Faith smirked. "This warrior's edge was fine enough to kick your ass earlier today just so you remember. And if you're thinking of reporting me to the gaming board, go ahead, but you needn't bother, I'll piss clean, I promise."
Cat shook her head. "That was not my implication. And I assure you, I am well aware of having lost earlier. It does not happen often. That is actually why I am here."
Faith slammed back a swig of the whiskey. "If you want a rematch, go through your stable. I'm not one to book my own fights."
"That would prove rather difficult. My stable voided my contract after the fight," she said in a very matter of fact way.
Faith scoffed. "That seems a bit harsh. They couldn't do that....unless...."
Cat nodded. "I was terminated for 'reckless misuse of stable property' in their words."
Faith shook her head disapprovingly. "You had a tap out clause. That makes the way you hung on after you were beaten even dumber. I offered you the chance. Twice."
Cat waived her hand dismissively. "I was not aware of the clause before they brought it to my attention. But I would not have submitted, regardless. That is no way to fight."
"It was your first loss, I know. You were 8-0 going into that fight. I did my homework, trust me."
Cat sat forward slightly. "I studied you as well. I should not have lost. Yet somehow, I did."
Faith emptied her glass before she responded. "You're a damn good shot. You fight cautiously, using your accuracy to your advantage. Then when your opponent is weakened just enough, you pounce."
The other woman's smokey eyes narrowed. "And you normally fight aggressively. Your fighting style matches your persona. But you fought differently this time. Even with that, however, I should have beaten you. Especially when your one autocannon jammed."
Faith let a smile creep into the corners of her mouth. "Except my left Ultra-5 never jammed."
Cat sat back and paused for a moment. "But I saw it. You only used your right gun. I saw the left one spinning with an ammo feed problem."
Faith let her grin grow. "The only ammo feed problem it had was it was trying to feed from an empty bin. I left that bin empty, and had two tons more armor bolted on. The pounding you gave me would probably have dropped me if I was running my standard loadout. But I saw you liked to play the long game. I just played a longer game, sister."
Cat glanced down and let out a sigh. "Subterfuge is something I will have to hone, I suppose."
Faith nodded. "Beats honesty every time. So is that why you came here, to find out how you lost?"
The dark haired woman took a small pouch from her hip and tossed it on the table. When Faith gave her a puzzled look, she sat back. "Those are my vineers. I keep my past a closed book, as you probably know. There is all manner of speculation, but I neither confirm or deny. There is little point. Until now, here with you. Black is simply a nom de guerre. My only given name is Catherine, I was born a warrior of Clan Nova Cat."
"You're a long way from home, sister. The tabloids would have a field day with that one, if you're telling the truth. Doesn't really matter to me though. Why are you telling me this, am I supposed to take you prisoner or something since I beat you in combat?"
Cat shook her head. "I am no longer truly clan. And even if I were, you would have had to claim the right of making me your bondsman at the time of my defeat. But I am here to pledge to fight at your side, in a way. It is a part of one of my visions that I did not fully understand until tonight."
Faith stood and poured herself another whiskey. "Yeah, I've heard you Nova Cats are into smoking peyote and playing with voodoo dolls and stuff like that." She returned to her seat and took another sip. "I don't see what that has to do with anything. Hell, I don't even believe in that kind of stuff."
Cat stared off into the distance for a moment. "I am here on the game world because of a vision. I was raised to put great stock in them." She paused for a moment and studied the remains of the amber liquid in her own glass. "My star was sent on a supply raid into the Draconis Combine. We struck quickly, took what we wanted, and departed. Shortly after we lifted off, there was an explosion on our dropship. I have no idea if it was an accident, or if some bandit managed to slip aboard our ship and sabotage it. Either way, we crashed on the surface. Only three of us survived the crash, and they died in the wilderness shortly after. I managed to make my way to civilization, and managed to stow away aboard a cargo vessel. When we linked with the jumpship, I slipped aboard and commandeered it, thinking to jump back into Nova Cat territory. The pilot somehow managed to double-cross me, and jumped to a Combine system, and I was taken prisoner."
Faith tipped her glass to Cat. "Sounds like you have shitty luck, sister."
Cat nodded. "What you would ascribe to luck, I ascribed to destiny. I managed to escape, but my faith in my path was shaken. As I eluded my pursuers in a dense forrest, I undertook my own version of the Rite of the Vision. What I saw convinced me that my life as a Nova Cat was over. For good or ill, my path lay elsewhere."
"Pardon my disbelief, but all this brings you to my door how?"
Cat thought for a moment before responding. "A vision is deeply personal. We do not share the vision itself with others, not entirely, except with the Oathmaster. But I saw myself vanquished and then raised again by a golden knight in a great Colosseum. There is more to it, much more, but suffice it to say that I am convinced that my path lies alongside yours, at least for a time."
Faith stood. "Well sorry, sister, but visions and bonfires aren't my thing. And besides, I fight alone. This girl is a clan of one."
Cat rose from her seat as well. "You will need me in the future. I promise. I have seen it."
Faith took a step closer, her temper rising slightly, helped no doubt by the alcohol fueled fire she could feel swelling inside her. "Fine, leave your business card. If I need you, I'll give you a call. Until then, take your voodoo dolls and lick your wounds from the ass kicking I gave you."
Cat shook her head, stepping closer to Faith. "Your flippancy is so.....frustrating. How am I supposed to get through to you?"
Faith raised her voice to match the other woman's ire. "Maybe you're not. So how about you just go."
Cat looked up at the ceiling and left out an angered sigh of frustration. Then she lowered her gaze to lock eyes with Faith, as if weighing something in her mind. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity as the fires behind each of their eyes burned. Then suddenly, before Faith could react, Cat took her face in her hands and locked her in a passion filled kiss.
At first, Faith started to pull away, but she stopped herself, soaking in the kiss as if fire were exploding between the two warriors as they collided. If it was possible to pour anger into a kiss, it was happening. Faith let her hands fall to Cat's waist and gripped firmly.
Cat was a few inches taller, and definitely more muscular than Faith, and used her dominant pose to walk Faith backwards until she was pressed against the wall. Only then did their lips part, and each of the women hungrily took in air.
"If you wanted to fuck me, you didn't have to bother with your whole life story, you could have just asked." Faith chuckled.
"Damn your stubbornness, Faith McCarron," Cat quickly unbuttoned Faith's shirt and planted hungry kisses over her shoulders and chest. Faith wrapped her legs around Cat's waist as she let the other woman's desire flow over her.
She dug her fingers deeply into Cat's jet black hair. "Bedroom is that way."
The sex was aggressive, not quite combative. Cat used her superior size and strength to retain dominance throughout most of the session, but Faith held her own, breaking free several times to seize the initiative and dig her fingers into the flesh and well toned muscle of her partner.
While Faith was vocal, Cat at first was almost silent. Then, as Faith broke free of her grip on one occasion, she managed to take one of Cat's ample, firm breasts in her mouth, running her tongue over the other woman's nipple and eliciting a moan of pleasure.
Faith's dominance was short lived, as Cat quickly turned the tables and flipped Faith onto her back. Gripping her with one arm, and entering her with one, then two fingers, the two warriors bodies slid against each other rhythmically as Cat slowly brought Faith to a thundering climax. Faith let out a scream, not caring what other occupants of the building might hear.
The night went on for hours, the two women who mere hours before had been trading deadly blows in combat now taking turns bringing each other up to and over the precipice of pleasure. Finally exhausted, they settled into a tangle of limbs while they caught their breath and let their pulses steady out to a relaxed rate.
"So that was your plan?" Faith quipped with a smile.
"What?" Cat gazed at her with eyes only partially recovered from the depths of pleasure.
"That was your plan, tell me your life story, and when I didn't buy into your fireside fairy tale, you'd fuck me into submission?" she said wryly.
Cat propped herself up on her elbows and allowed herself a slight smile. "I did not plan on the fucking part, as you so eloquently put it. But I am drawn to you. I do not expect that you would understand without having had my vision."
Faith rolled onto her side. "You keep talking about these visions as if they're some kind of magic. I don't believe in that kind of shit. There's no such thing as divining the future. We make our future. Or we die trying."
Cat shook her head. "It is not about knowing a future set in stone. It is about seeing a path so that you can embrace it fully, realize it's potential. I grew up with one path set down for me. To become a warrior and help fulfill Kerensky's vision for the future. We all saw Operation Revival as our part in that future. But now things have fractured. Nothing is as clear as it was when I was a child. And so now we have to find our paths again."
Faith raised an eyebrow. "And now you think your path is fighting alongside me. I don't get it."
"Not as such. But when you defeated me, things came into focus, my vision suddenly had clarity. You go on to build great things, Faith McCarron. Things greater than yourself. But you are the start, and my heart tells me I must be by your side."
Faith slid closer to Catherine and began gently tracing her fingers over Cat's skin. "Maybe it's the orgasm talking, or maybe it's just my vanity, but let's say I buy into this a little bit. What's that mean?"
Cat pulled her in closer and they settled into a resting position, their bodies pressed together, their limbs intertwined. "Just that we remain in each other's orbit, and let fate forge the rest."
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